Blade Archer ~ Nine
Nov. 11th, 2004 12:08 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
It was the day after the Winter Solstice, when Kael, now sixteen, and the other boys were finally allowed to begin training with their own metal daggers, and the smooth wooden ones were put away until the next new bunch of army trainees picked them up at the end of the year. Kael could feel the new spring in his step as he took out his faithful dagger. It had served him well over the years, and he had never grown used to the uncomfortable feeling of being defenceless with the wooden blade in his hand.
Evidently Qinen had noticed too. Any minute hint of confidence he had built up over the months of training in Summer and Autumn had drained from him like the blood from his face as he brandished his shining dagger against Kael’s tarnished one.
Kael frowned critically at the boy’s dagger. The steel was spotless. Not a hint of rust, no blackened patches, not even where the blade met the hilt. Most disturbing of all was that there was not a single dent or scratch to mar the blade’s immaculate surface.
“What?” Qinen asked carefully, not daring to lower his blade.
Kael indicated the shimmering blade with his own. “Have ye even used that before today?” The thought baffled him.
Qinen’s fingers worked self consciously at the hilt, bound in pale brown, almost white leather. “I’ve practiced with it,” he said defensively, “with the moves Master’s taught us.”
“Aeia,” Kael swore, the curse coming out as a heavy sigh. “Try attacking more. Ye’re no challenge. I’m losing me touch with no-one to fight but ye.”
Qinen nodded, but as every other time, Kael suspected he hadn’t listened at all.
They’d only been fighting a few minutes—or rather, Kael had been attacking, Qinen defending—when Kael got the distinct feeling that he was being watched. The other boys were all attacking each other with clashes of steel, and he could hear the dagger master’s clipped voice instructing a pair to his left, but he could nevertheless feel someone’s eyes on him.
He ended the fight quickly, pressing the flat of his blade under Qinen’s chin.
The other boy yelped, instinctively dropping his dagger so it clattered to the ground. “Please don’t kill me,” he pleaded pitifully.
Kael cocked an amused eyebrow at his training partner, then took his dagger away. “We’re only training,” he scorned. “Why in Lin’s name would I want to kill ye, anyway?”
Qinen bent to pick up his dagger, mournfully examining the nicks that now marked the otherwise pristine blade. “It just seems like that’s your plan every time.”
At that moment, the dagger master clapped his hands to gain the attention of the boys. Kael turned around, now catching sight of a young man and woman standing by the door. The woman Kael recognised from the Summer Solstice earlier that year. That, along with the blue swirls and small red jewels that decorated her pale blue dress, marked her as Alurié, crown princess of Raykin.
Kael assumed the man to her left with his arm around her waist was her husband, Prince Mithé. His purple blade archer’s shirt had the same blue swirl on his shoulder, but there was no red dot to accompany it. Alurié was to be the reigning monarch when her mother passed on, as seemed increasingly certain each day. Most were surprised the queen had made it through the last Summer.
Kael shifted his weight uneasily to his other foot. The princess had her eyes fixed on him.
“Gentlemen,” the dagger master began, “I have the great honour of presenting to you the future king and queen of Raykin.” He swept one hand out to the royal couple at the door, and all the boys instinctively bowed deeply to them. Kael merely dipped his head. Anything less would earn him a flogging of some kind, but he was far from willing to do anything more.
Both royal members narrowed their eyes at him, though Kael was almost sure he could see amusement behind the princess’ glare as she tossed dark curls over her shoulder.
The dagger master had apparently not seen him. “Their Highnesses have a special interest in daggers, Prince Mithé himself being a member of the blade archers Second Company, and will be watching you train today.” He bowed his head respectfully to the royal couple, then turned back to the boys. “You won’t be tested, but you will be expected to do your very best.”
Kael didn’t miss the warning behind the dagger master’s request, indicating that it was most certainly an order.
“Before you begin,” the dagger master continued, “It is important that you realise that the best way of winning a fight is not to try and stab your opponent, rather to disarm him.” He was looking directly at Kael when he said this, stressing the last two words heavily. “You may have heard the turn of phrase that a wounded snake’s fangs are sharper than those of a healthy snake.
“This is no less true of a man with a dagger in his hand. When wounded, he will strike out blindly, not caring whether he is harmed a second time. This fearlessness gives him the advantage. It is far better to relieve him of his weapon before you target his flesh. Attack his dagger hand, not his heart.”
Kael folded his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised dubiously. This was the most ridiculous philosophy he had heard. In his personal experience, a wounded man was more likely to surrender than one who felt he had the upper hand. Why bother to try and knock down the wall when the gate was already open?
He shrugged and turned to his training partner, brandishing his dagger so that Qinen brought his own up in something resembling defence. The boy’s defences were no stronger than a dust mouse’s skin, and his attacks were far less vicious than its bight.
“His blade, Kael,” the weapons master told him sternly, “Not his body.”
Kael shrugged as Qinen held his fingers over a fresh cut in his shoulder. “Wouldn’t a man of yer stature think it unfair to attack an unarmed man?”
The dagger master snorted. “Rich words, from one who does the very same on a nightly basis for a living.”
“That’s entirely different,” Kael argued, “Besides, I can count on one hand the number of men who attacked once he had blood dripping from his arm.”
“Is that so?” The dagger master mused. Kael gripped his dagger tighter, knowing what was coming next.
Sure enough, the dagger master flicked his own dagger from its sheath, slashing wildly at Kael. Although Kael held his own against the master, he knew he couldn’t expect to win. He had, after all, been one of the King’s Own for his skill with the short blade.
He managed to break the shorter man’s defences once, making a shallow slice through the fabric of his shirt, but the tough leather of his nira-skin armour prevented further damage. The weapons master merely grinned, continuing to slash and jab at the blade held in Kael’s left hand.
Inevitably, the dagger master was able to lock his blade with Kael’s and fling it from his hand, catching the tip on the webbing between Kael’s thumb and forefinger, before pressing the flat of it under Kael’s chin.
Kael could feel a trickle of warm liquid running down his neck from where the honed edge of the dagger master’s blade made contact with his skin. He glared down the length of the master’s arm, reluctantly making the sign of defeat with his right hand.
“That proves nothing,” Kael said defiantly, “Only that ye’re better than me.”
“And why do you think that might be, Kael?”
Kael glared at him, hating the way he spoke as though he were speaking to a five-year-old. “Ye’ve been wielding a blade longer.”
“No, Kael, it’s because I listened to what my dagger master taught me, obeyed his instructions. I respected my superiors, wasn’t cocky and didn’t try to think myself better than my peers.”
It was all Kael could do not to roll his eyes. He’d made it into the Own, the epitome of cockiness.
“If I were in your shoes, I’d take his word for it.” The deep voice came from the prince, who’d come over from the doorway, the tiny princess at his side.
Princess Alurié’s eyes were fixed curiously on Kael’s blade. “You’re the southern boy, I imagine.” Her disapproval was as plain in her voice as on her face, delicate nose scrunched slightly as she took in the uncared-for blade, then the scars on his opposite wrist.
“That I am. Sorry to tarnish your army’s immaculate reputation.”
The princess lifted her head slightly. Kael had to admit that, despite her size, she managed to carry quite an air of authority about her. “No matter,” she said airily, “You’ve many years ahead of you before you have any chance of doing that. And even then it’s only a chance.”
Kael blinked, unaware that he posed quite so much of a threat to the future queen’s reputation. “If that’s yer reckoning,” he said finally.
Princess Alurié smiled smugly, taking the response as a sign of defeat, then she and her husband strode off to watch the other boys practicing.
Kael watched after them a moment. The princess did nothing to dispel the rumours he’d heard of royalty. In fact, she’d only confirmed them. Why anyone would aspire to be a part of the Queen’s Own, to be at that woman’s command, he could never know.
“I can’t wait until she’s off the throne,” Qinen muttered beside him.
Kael turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “She’s not even on it yet.”
Qinen shrugged. “Even so.” He sighed. “Did you know, she already talks to the Own as though she commands them, even the Own’s General!”
“Shock,” Kael said, completely disinterested. “The Own needs to be brought down a few pegs anyway.”
Qinen shook his head. “The Own’s fine. She’s the one who needs to be brought down.”
“Yes, well, she’s going to be queen sooner or later, so I can’t see that happening any time soon.” He frowned. “How is it ye knows so much of the Own, anyway?”
“My brother trained with one of them.” He tried to make it sound casual, like it wasn’t a big thing, but to Kael it sounded like he was showing off.
He narrowed his eyes at the prince’s back, then brandished his dagger once more. As far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t go home happy until he’d given Qinen so many cuts and grazes that he needed the aid of the healers.
~ ~ ~
Chapter~ 1793
Total~ 15 303
Time~ 2hrs, 5mins (I've decided the story's moving too slowly for the word count/my enjoyment. Lotta chapters are going to be beginning with "the next summer," "a year later" et al >>;;)
Total~ 21hrs, 36mins
Evidently Qinen had noticed too. Any minute hint of confidence he had built up over the months of training in Summer and Autumn had drained from him like the blood from his face as he brandished his shining dagger against Kael’s tarnished one.
Kael frowned critically at the boy’s dagger. The steel was spotless. Not a hint of rust, no blackened patches, not even where the blade met the hilt. Most disturbing of all was that there was not a single dent or scratch to mar the blade’s immaculate surface.
“What?” Qinen asked carefully, not daring to lower his blade.
Kael indicated the shimmering blade with his own. “Have ye even used that before today?” The thought baffled him.
Qinen’s fingers worked self consciously at the hilt, bound in pale brown, almost white leather. “I’ve practiced with it,” he said defensively, “with the moves Master’s taught us.”
“Aeia,” Kael swore, the curse coming out as a heavy sigh. “Try attacking more. Ye’re no challenge. I’m losing me touch with no-one to fight but ye.”
Qinen nodded, but as every other time, Kael suspected he hadn’t listened at all.
They’d only been fighting a few minutes—or rather, Kael had been attacking, Qinen defending—when Kael got the distinct feeling that he was being watched. The other boys were all attacking each other with clashes of steel, and he could hear the dagger master’s clipped voice instructing a pair to his left, but he could nevertheless feel someone’s eyes on him.
He ended the fight quickly, pressing the flat of his blade under Qinen’s chin.
The other boy yelped, instinctively dropping his dagger so it clattered to the ground. “Please don’t kill me,” he pleaded pitifully.
Kael cocked an amused eyebrow at his training partner, then took his dagger away. “We’re only training,” he scorned. “Why in Lin’s name would I want to kill ye, anyway?”
Qinen bent to pick up his dagger, mournfully examining the nicks that now marked the otherwise pristine blade. “It just seems like that’s your plan every time.”
At that moment, the dagger master clapped his hands to gain the attention of the boys. Kael turned around, now catching sight of a young man and woman standing by the door. The woman Kael recognised from the Summer Solstice earlier that year. That, along with the blue swirls and small red jewels that decorated her pale blue dress, marked her as Alurié, crown princess of Raykin.
Kael assumed the man to her left with his arm around her waist was her husband, Prince Mithé. His purple blade archer’s shirt had the same blue swirl on his shoulder, but there was no red dot to accompany it. Alurié was to be the reigning monarch when her mother passed on, as seemed increasingly certain each day. Most were surprised the queen had made it through the last Summer.
Kael shifted his weight uneasily to his other foot. The princess had her eyes fixed on him.
“Gentlemen,” the dagger master began, “I have the great honour of presenting to you the future king and queen of Raykin.” He swept one hand out to the royal couple at the door, and all the boys instinctively bowed deeply to them. Kael merely dipped his head. Anything less would earn him a flogging of some kind, but he was far from willing to do anything more.
Both royal members narrowed their eyes at him, though Kael was almost sure he could see amusement behind the princess’ glare as she tossed dark curls over her shoulder.
The dagger master had apparently not seen him. “Their Highnesses have a special interest in daggers, Prince Mithé himself being a member of the blade archers Second Company, and will be watching you train today.” He bowed his head respectfully to the royal couple, then turned back to the boys. “You won’t be tested, but you will be expected to do your very best.”
Kael didn’t miss the warning behind the dagger master’s request, indicating that it was most certainly an order.
“Before you begin,” the dagger master continued, “It is important that you realise that the best way of winning a fight is not to try and stab your opponent, rather to disarm him.” He was looking directly at Kael when he said this, stressing the last two words heavily. “You may have heard the turn of phrase that a wounded snake’s fangs are sharper than those of a healthy snake.
“This is no less true of a man with a dagger in his hand. When wounded, he will strike out blindly, not caring whether he is harmed a second time. This fearlessness gives him the advantage. It is far better to relieve him of his weapon before you target his flesh. Attack his dagger hand, not his heart.”
Kael folded his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised dubiously. This was the most ridiculous philosophy he had heard. In his personal experience, a wounded man was more likely to surrender than one who felt he had the upper hand. Why bother to try and knock down the wall when the gate was already open?
He shrugged and turned to his training partner, brandishing his dagger so that Qinen brought his own up in something resembling defence. The boy’s defences were no stronger than a dust mouse’s skin, and his attacks were far less vicious than its bight.
“His blade, Kael,” the weapons master told him sternly, “Not his body.”
Kael shrugged as Qinen held his fingers over a fresh cut in his shoulder. “Wouldn’t a man of yer stature think it unfair to attack an unarmed man?”
The dagger master snorted. “Rich words, from one who does the very same on a nightly basis for a living.”
“That’s entirely different,” Kael argued, “Besides, I can count on one hand the number of men who attacked once he had blood dripping from his arm.”
“Is that so?” The dagger master mused. Kael gripped his dagger tighter, knowing what was coming next.
Sure enough, the dagger master flicked his own dagger from its sheath, slashing wildly at Kael. Although Kael held his own against the master, he knew he couldn’t expect to win. He had, after all, been one of the King’s Own for his skill with the short blade.
He managed to break the shorter man’s defences once, making a shallow slice through the fabric of his shirt, but the tough leather of his nira-skin armour prevented further damage. The weapons master merely grinned, continuing to slash and jab at the blade held in Kael’s left hand.
Inevitably, the dagger master was able to lock his blade with Kael’s and fling it from his hand, catching the tip on the webbing between Kael’s thumb and forefinger, before pressing the flat of it under Kael’s chin.
Kael could feel a trickle of warm liquid running down his neck from where the honed edge of the dagger master’s blade made contact with his skin. He glared down the length of the master’s arm, reluctantly making the sign of defeat with his right hand.
“That proves nothing,” Kael said defiantly, “Only that ye’re better than me.”
“And why do you think that might be, Kael?”
Kael glared at him, hating the way he spoke as though he were speaking to a five-year-old. “Ye’ve been wielding a blade longer.”
“No, Kael, it’s because I listened to what my dagger master taught me, obeyed his instructions. I respected my superiors, wasn’t cocky and didn’t try to think myself better than my peers.”
It was all Kael could do not to roll his eyes. He’d made it into the Own, the epitome of cockiness.
“If I were in your shoes, I’d take his word for it.” The deep voice came from the prince, who’d come over from the doorway, the tiny princess at his side.
Princess Alurié’s eyes were fixed curiously on Kael’s blade. “You’re the southern boy, I imagine.” Her disapproval was as plain in her voice as on her face, delicate nose scrunched slightly as she took in the uncared-for blade, then the scars on his opposite wrist.
“That I am. Sorry to tarnish your army’s immaculate reputation.”
The princess lifted her head slightly. Kael had to admit that, despite her size, she managed to carry quite an air of authority about her. “No matter,” she said airily, “You’ve many years ahead of you before you have any chance of doing that. And even then it’s only a chance.”
Kael blinked, unaware that he posed quite so much of a threat to the future queen’s reputation. “If that’s yer reckoning,” he said finally.
Princess Alurié smiled smugly, taking the response as a sign of defeat, then she and her husband strode off to watch the other boys practicing.
Kael watched after them a moment. The princess did nothing to dispel the rumours he’d heard of royalty. In fact, she’d only confirmed them. Why anyone would aspire to be a part of the Queen’s Own, to be at that woman’s command, he could never know.
“I can’t wait until she’s off the throne,” Qinen muttered beside him.
Kael turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “She’s not even on it yet.”
Qinen shrugged. “Even so.” He sighed. “Did you know, she already talks to the Own as though she commands them, even the Own’s General!”
“Shock,” Kael said, completely disinterested. “The Own needs to be brought down a few pegs anyway.”
Qinen shook his head. “The Own’s fine. She’s the one who needs to be brought down.”
“Yes, well, she’s going to be queen sooner or later, so I can’t see that happening any time soon.” He frowned. “How is it ye knows so much of the Own, anyway?”
“My brother trained with one of them.” He tried to make it sound casual, like it wasn’t a big thing, but to Kael it sounded like he was showing off.
He narrowed his eyes at the prince’s back, then brandished his dagger once more. As far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t go home happy until he’d given Qinen so many cuts and grazes that he needed the aid of the healers.
Chapter~ 1793
Total~ 15 303
Time~ 2hrs, 5mins (I've decided the story's moving too slowly for the word count/my enjoyment. Lotta chapters are going to be beginning with "the next summer," "a year later" et al >>;;)
Total~ 21hrs, 36mins
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Date: 2004-11-10 06:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-10 06:19 am (UTC)