Blade Archer ~ Seven
Nov. 9th, 2004 12:35 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
The next day, the weapons master in charge of teaching the boys hand to hand combat was not in the barracks to greet them. Instead, the short, bearded man who had given Kael and the other training blade archers their uniforms rested against the wall in the corner. His head bobbed as he counted the boys in the room. Another three wooden crates lay beside him as more warriors-in-training filtered in.
When he was satisfied that the majority had gathered, he clapped his hands for silence, balancing on one of the crates so he was more easily seen.
“I trust each of you has a dagger,” he said, his heavily-browed eyes flicking from one dagger hilt to another. “Take of your sheaths and leave them, with the dagger, by the wall.”
Confused murmurs scattered through the room.
“It’s been my experience,” the dagger master explained, “that a group of fifty inexperienced boys aged in their mid teens, added with another fifty steel blades, inevitably brings bloodshed. I wish to give the dear healers as little unnecessary work as possible, so at least until Winter, you’ll be using wooden blades. Take one from a box, then blade archers over to my left, everyone else to the right.”
The boys who hadn’t already learnt this fact groaned in disbelief. Those who had narrowed their eyes as they unclipped dagger sheaths and tossed them to the wall, annoyed that their fears had come true. They all eyed each other warily, Kael in particular, much to his amusement. There were bonuses in owning a dagger that no-one else would.
The wooden blade felt strange in Kael’s hand, but he couldn’t place the exact reason. As far as he could tell, it was the same weight as his iron blade, maybe a bit lighter. The leather-bound hilt had the same worn look as Kael’s own, only the sweat stains that darkened the brown leather hadn’t come from his own hand, rather scores of other fifteen-year-old boys training to be part of the Raykinian army.
Maybe it was more the fact that he knew the blade could do little harm. He could probably defend himself better without the wooden blade in his hand. As far as he could remember, he’d never been without his dagger. As did everyone in the district, he slept with it under his pillow and kept it sheathed at his hip in his waking hours. It was a part of his anatomy as his hands.
This length of acacia, no longer than his hand and worn smooth from years of use, couldn’t even give his opponent a splinter. Holding what was essentially a defunct weapon made Kael feel defenceless. He didn’t like it.
None of the other boys in purple shirts seemed to be quite as affected by the virtual lack of weaponry. Instead they exchanged glances that evidently said, ‘I can’t believe we’re supposed to fight with these things.’
Kael shifted uneasily, working the grip with one hand and trying to pretend, to himself as much as anyone else, that nothing was wrong.
The dagger master, instead of pairing them off according to any prior knowledge or skill, instead put the tallest boys with the tallest, the shortest with the shortest.
“He’s assuming we all know as much or as little as each other,” Kael’s partner, a boy of average height with scruffy hair whose name was Qinen, muttered under his breath.
Kael cocked an eyebrow at him, spinning the wooden dagger nervously on his finger. “And which end of the scale does ye fit into?”
“The opposite end to your good self,” Qinen answered, indicating Kael’s dagger with a nod.
Kael gripped the hilt of his makeshift weapon to force himself to stop twirling it. Nobody in here was going to attack him. Even if they did, they were all in the same virtually weaponless state as he was. All the same, he couldn’t keep himself from fidgeting.
“Say that again?” he asked, realising Qinen had asked him something.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry,” the boy repeated.
Kael blinked, momentarily forgetting the wooden dagger. “Whatever,” he said finally.
The blade archer looked as though he was struggling with himself as to whether or not to repeat his question. Finally, he gave in to curiosity. “I was just curious… You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…”
Kael frowned expectantly. “Well, spit it out.”
“Did it hurt?” Qinen asked finally. He shifted fretfully on his feet and scratched at an elbow, knowing he was on shaky ground.
Kael’s frown deepened, not having the faintest idea what the boy was on about. “Did what hur—oh.” He looked down at the scars on his wrist, covering them with his other hand. “Of course it hurt! Why else would they do it?” He tapped the middle one. “That one was with a hot blade too.”
“So… why do you keep doing it?”
“Same reason anyone else does what they does; make money.” He shrugged. “Pain’s only temporary anyway. Why’re ye asking so many questions?”
“I was merely curious.” Qinen’s eyes flicked between Kael’s wrist and the ground, betraying that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. “My… father works with the police,” he amended.
Kael’s grip tightened on the dagger hilt, but he said nothing. Qinen must have noticed the growing tension, because he edged half a step away from Kael. “Sorry,” he mumbled again.
The dagger master had the boys practice defensive moves that day, taking turns attacking and defending. Kael couldn’t help but be unnecessarily aggressive towards his training partner, deliberately turning even his defensive moves into attacks to that Qinen had to in turn be defensive even when he was attacking. If he’d appeared tentative with his stabs and slashes to begin with, he grew more and more terrified of Kael’s advances as the day wore on.
“Kael!” he panted, trying drastically to fend of the worst of the other boy’s slices as he was pushed into the wall. “Kael, stop! I need a rest! Ow! Kael!”
“Ye’re lucky these things are only wood,” Kael hissed, pulling back after having drawn his blade in a line over Qinen’s chest that would indeed have had him bleeding badly had the blade been Kael’s own.
“Which is precisely the reason we don’t use them for another two seasons,” the dagger master told him. “Am I right in assuming you’re the southern boy?”
“What of it?”
The master smiled ruefully. “You will address me as ‘Sir,’ young Kael.”
Kael rolled his eyes. “What of it, Sir?”
The dagger master sighed, the faintest hint of a growl coming from the back of his throat. “Play by the rules, boy. We’re not here to kill each other. You have fairly good technique, but realise that the other boys will learn fast. Don’t get left behind. Learn it all again from the roots, so any problems can be addressed.”
Kael’s eyes narrowed and his fingers worked at the soft leather of his dagger hilt.
The dagger master turned to Qinen, who was still rubbing his chest and taking in big gulps of air to try and recover from the winding. “Attack more. Be more aggressive. You’re letting him get on top of you. I don’t care if you believe him to be better than you, attack.”
Qinen nodded dumbly to the dagger master’s instructions, mumbled ‘Yes, sir’s barely heard over the master’s strict tone. Kael wondered vaguely if he was taking in anything of what the short man was saying.
“Good,” the master said finally. “Continue.”
Kael obeyed, not changing anything he’d been doing prior to the master’s lecture.
He was still in a dark mood when he arrived home, though he felt considerably better with his iron blade at his hip.
“Ye’ve been quiet ever since ye got home,” his sister accused him, unravelling his short plait and raking her fingers through his hair. “What’s up?”
“Policeman’s son.”
Elara’s fingers paused momentarily. “He’s not thinking of turning ye in, is he?”
Kael snorted. “Nah, he’s too much of a wimp for that.” He drew his knees up and hooked his arms around them, gripping opposite wrists before he began wringing his fingers. “Does ye have any idea how wrong it is to fight with a wooden blade?”
“None whatsoever,” Elara admitted offhandedly. “Never given much thought to that, to be honest. Gets to ye, does it?”
Kael nodded silently, enjoying the tingling of his sister’s fingers on his scalp. She had evidently inherited her mother’s love of the feel of hair through her fingers. Kathani always used to run her fingers through her children’s hair, but had stopped when her husband Ril had died. Now Elara took up the practice. Neither Kael nor his brother objected.
“It’s just going to take some getting used to.”
“Mhmm.” Elara didn’t appear to be listening anymore, so Kael was left to his own thoughts while she knotted his hair in a new plait. “Ye know what’d be really nice?” she asked cheerily, “Clean hair. Ye has no idea how nice that’d be.”
Kael grinned as her fingers paused in their work. “Let’s go to the river tomorrow, Mama. Kael’s got tomorrow off.” Obviously she expected a positive answer.
Kathani laughed. “If that be yer wish, little miss. I won’t be going though.”
Elara gasped in mock disbelief. “Ye’re bluffing. Think how nice it’d be to have clean hair, Mama.”
“I kid ye not. I’m quite satisfied with me hair as it be.”
Kael tuned out of the ensuing debate. He didn’t know why his mother bothered to participate; Elara would win anyway. He and Ynuk exchanged glances, knowing better than to argue with the girl.
Instead, he just leant back and let Elara’s fingers continue their work.
~ ~ ~
Chapter~ 1631
Total~ 11 908
Time~ 2hrs, 22mins
Total~ 16hrs, 21mins
When he was satisfied that the majority had gathered, he clapped his hands for silence, balancing on one of the crates so he was more easily seen.
“I trust each of you has a dagger,” he said, his heavily-browed eyes flicking from one dagger hilt to another. “Take of your sheaths and leave them, with the dagger, by the wall.”
Confused murmurs scattered through the room.
“It’s been my experience,” the dagger master explained, “that a group of fifty inexperienced boys aged in their mid teens, added with another fifty steel blades, inevitably brings bloodshed. I wish to give the dear healers as little unnecessary work as possible, so at least until Winter, you’ll be using wooden blades. Take one from a box, then blade archers over to my left, everyone else to the right.”
The boys who hadn’t already learnt this fact groaned in disbelief. Those who had narrowed their eyes as they unclipped dagger sheaths and tossed them to the wall, annoyed that their fears had come true. They all eyed each other warily, Kael in particular, much to his amusement. There were bonuses in owning a dagger that no-one else would.
The wooden blade felt strange in Kael’s hand, but he couldn’t place the exact reason. As far as he could tell, it was the same weight as his iron blade, maybe a bit lighter. The leather-bound hilt had the same worn look as Kael’s own, only the sweat stains that darkened the brown leather hadn’t come from his own hand, rather scores of other fifteen-year-old boys training to be part of the Raykinian army.
Maybe it was more the fact that he knew the blade could do little harm. He could probably defend himself better without the wooden blade in his hand. As far as he could remember, he’d never been without his dagger. As did everyone in the district, he slept with it under his pillow and kept it sheathed at his hip in his waking hours. It was a part of his anatomy as his hands.
This length of acacia, no longer than his hand and worn smooth from years of use, couldn’t even give his opponent a splinter. Holding what was essentially a defunct weapon made Kael feel defenceless. He didn’t like it.
None of the other boys in purple shirts seemed to be quite as affected by the virtual lack of weaponry. Instead they exchanged glances that evidently said, ‘I can’t believe we’re supposed to fight with these things.’
Kael shifted uneasily, working the grip with one hand and trying to pretend, to himself as much as anyone else, that nothing was wrong.
The dagger master, instead of pairing them off according to any prior knowledge or skill, instead put the tallest boys with the tallest, the shortest with the shortest.
“He’s assuming we all know as much or as little as each other,” Kael’s partner, a boy of average height with scruffy hair whose name was Qinen, muttered under his breath.
Kael cocked an eyebrow at him, spinning the wooden dagger nervously on his finger. “And which end of the scale does ye fit into?”
“The opposite end to your good self,” Qinen answered, indicating Kael’s dagger with a nod.
Kael gripped the hilt of his makeshift weapon to force himself to stop twirling it. Nobody in here was going to attack him. Even if they did, they were all in the same virtually weaponless state as he was. All the same, he couldn’t keep himself from fidgeting.
“Say that again?” he asked, realising Qinen had asked him something.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry,” the boy repeated.
Kael blinked, momentarily forgetting the wooden dagger. “Whatever,” he said finally.
The blade archer looked as though he was struggling with himself as to whether or not to repeat his question. Finally, he gave in to curiosity. “I was just curious… You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…”
Kael frowned expectantly. “Well, spit it out.”
“Did it hurt?” Qinen asked finally. He shifted fretfully on his feet and scratched at an elbow, knowing he was on shaky ground.
Kael’s frown deepened, not having the faintest idea what the boy was on about. “Did what hur—oh.” He looked down at the scars on his wrist, covering them with his other hand. “Of course it hurt! Why else would they do it?” He tapped the middle one. “That one was with a hot blade too.”
“So… why do you keep doing it?”
“Same reason anyone else does what they does; make money.” He shrugged. “Pain’s only temporary anyway. Why’re ye asking so many questions?”
“I was merely curious.” Qinen’s eyes flicked between Kael’s wrist and the ground, betraying that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. “My… father works with the police,” he amended.
Kael’s grip tightened on the dagger hilt, but he said nothing. Qinen must have noticed the growing tension, because he edged half a step away from Kael. “Sorry,” he mumbled again.
The dagger master had the boys practice defensive moves that day, taking turns attacking and defending. Kael couldn’t help but be unnecessarily aggressive towards his training partner, deliberately turning even his defensive moves into attacks to that Qinen had to in turn be defensive even when he was attacking. If he’d appeared tentative with his stabs and slashes to begin with, he grew more and more terrified of Kael’s advances as the day wore on.
“Kael!” he panted, trying drastically to fend of the worst of the other boy’s slices as he was pushed into the wall. “Kael, stop! I need a rest! Ow! Kael!”
“Ye’re lucky these things are only wood,” Kael hissed, pulling back after having drawn his blade in a line over Qinen’s chest that would indeed have had him bleeding badly had the blade been Kael’s own.
“Which is precisely the reason we don’t use them for another two seasons,” the dagger master told him. “Am I right in assuming you’re the southern boy?”
“What of it?”
The master smiled ruefully. “You will address me as ‘Sir,’ young Kael.”
Kael rolled his eyes. “What of it, Sir?”
The dagger master sighed, the faintest hint of a growl coming from the back of his throat. “Play by the rules, boy. We’re not here to kill each other. You have fairly good technique, but realise that the other boys will learn fast. Don’t get left behind. Learn it all again from the roots, so any problems can be addressed.”
Kael’s eyes narrowed and his fingers worked at the soft leather of his dagger hilt.
The dagger master turned to Qinen, who was still rubbing his chest and taking in big gulps of air to try and recover from the winding. “Attack more. Be more aggressive. You’re letting him get on top of you. I don’t care if you believe him to be better than you, attack.”
Qinen nodded dumbly to the dagger master’s instructions, mumbled ‘Yes, sir’s barely heard over the master’s strict tone. Kael wondered vaguely if he was taking in anything of what the short man was saying.
“Good,” the master said finally. “Continue.”
Kael obeyed, not changing anything he’d been doing prior to the master’s lecture.
He was still in a dark mood when he arrived home, though he felt considerably better with his iron blade at his hip.
“Ye’ve been quiet ever since ye got home,” his sister accused him, unravelling his short plait and raking her fingers through his hair. “What’s up?”
“Policeman’s son.”
Elara’s fingers paused momentarily. “He’s not thinking of turning ye in, is he?”
Kael snorted. “Nah, he’s too much of a wimp for that.” He drew his knees up and hooked his arms around them, gripping opposite wrists before he began wringing his fingers. “Does ye have any idea how wrong it is to fight with a wooden blade?”
“None whatsoever,” Elara admitted offhandedly. “Never given much thought to that, to be honest. Gets to ye, does it?”
Kael nodded silently, enjoying the tingling of his sister’s fingers on his scalp. She had evidently inherited her mother’s love of the feel of hair through her fingers. Kathani always used to run her fingers through her children’s hair, but had stopped when her husband Ril had died. Now Elara took up the practice. Neither Kael nor his brother objected.
“It’s just going to take some getting used to.”
“Mhmm.” Elara didn’t appear to be listening anymore, so Kael was left to his own thoughts while she knotted his hair in a new plait. “Ye know what’d be really nice?” she asked cheerily, “Clean hair. Ye has no idea how nice that’d be.”
Kael grinned as her fingers paused in their work. “Let’s go to the river tomorrow, Mama. Kael’s got tomorrow off.” Obviously she expected a positive answer.
Kathani laughed. “If that be yer wish, little miss. I won’t be going though.”
Elara gasped in mock disbelief. “Ye’re bluffing. Think how nice it’d be to have clean hair, Mama.”
“I kid ye not. I’m quite satisfied with me hair as it be.”
Kael tuned out of the ensuing debate. He didn’t know why his mother bothered to participate; Elara would win anyway. He and Ynuk exchanged glances, knowing better than to argue with the girl.
Instead, he just leant back and let Elara’s fingers continue their work.
Chapter~ 1631
Total~ 11 908
Time~ 2hrs, 22mins
Total~ 16hrs, 21mins
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