Blade Archer ~ Twelve
Nov. 17th, 2004 02:07 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annarti.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
yrae
Waiting for his arm to heal, Kael was already behind the rest of the class by the time his sling was removed and he was finally able to wield a blade. Even then, he could only really swing it with his left hand for a month afterwards. He’d turned up to the sword lessons, but there was only so much he could do with such limited mobility.
“And here you were thinking I couldn’t fall correctly,” Niloren sneered at him.
While his arm had still been in a sling, the sword master had partnered him with weaker and weaker opponents. Each and every one of them seemed to delight in Kael’s injury—all through last year, Kael had been the best with both dagger and bare knuckles. They didn’t pass up the opportunity to best him at something, even if it was a weapon he’d never wielded and only had one arm with which to wield it.
The bonus was that, like with the daggers, they began fighting with wooden blades, so at least he wouldn’t be cut at all. Instead, he was poked, tapped and prodded in his arm. The boys tried to make it look accidental, but their apologies were far from genuine. For his part, Kael decided the best option was to simply grit his teeth and bare it until the sword master gave him yet another new opponent, until he’d gone through just about every boy without a red swordsman shirt in the training group.
The five weeks it took for his broken bone to mend itself seemed to take considerably longer than five weeks. For the last week or so, he was certain he would have been able to take the sling and splint off, but the healers had insisted on leaving it on, ‘just in case’. He’d been flexing his fingers in anticipation that whole week, itching to grip a sword or dagger hilt with them. When the splint finally did come off and Kael kneaded his fingers over the mended bone, he could feel the lump in his forearm where it had been broken and hadn’t set quite straight.
Upon returning to sword training with both arms operational, he was more than a little annoyed to note how much weaker his right arm had become over the intervening weeks. His right arm had always been the weaker, but now it was so much so that he could barely grip the hilt. He often found himself falling back to rely on just the one hand, holding his right against his chest where it had been for so long. It was more of a conscious act to keep both hands on the hilt than it should have been, and regardless of how many times the sword master or Wilari, his eventual partner, tried to drum it into him to use both hands, it just wouldn’t happen.
“It shall be the death of you, Kael,” Wilari told him, his wooden blade tip levelled at Kael’s throat.
Kael shrugged, slapping his right hand over his heart and holding it, palm out, to the victor. “I plan on using shorter blades.”
“And I plan on taking bow and arrow to hand on my first ride to Kazin, but it is still required that we each win seventy points in the examination at the end of final year.”
Kael frowned and brought his wooden sword to his near-one handed version of the ready position. “I’ll work it out by then.”
Wilari sighed and swung his sword up. By the time the two blades clacked together, Kael only had one hand gripping the hilt.
Not long before the Winter Solstice celebrations, when Kael arrived at one of his sword training sessions, two other men in red swordsmen shirts stood chatting with the sword master. Both had their swords sheathed at their hips, and from what Kael could see, they weren’t regulation army swords.
“Aeia, no,” he muttered under his breath.
He looked with disdain at the ostentatious, glittering sword hilts. The nervous but excited chatter he caught from the other boys confirmed his thoughts. These two men fought with the Queen’s Own.
The sword master pushed himself away from the wall and clapped a few times for silence. “Okay gentlemen,” he called over the rabble. The boys quietened, but there was still a hum in the air that rang of their expectations of what was to come.
“As you have no doubt guessed by now, the two gentlemen behind me ride with the Queen’s Own. You may have heard they are due to depart for Kazin in a few days time—”
“Tomorrow, actually,” the shorter of the men interrupted.
“—tomorrow,” the sword master amended, “and we are therefore very lucky to—”
“It’s more borderlands than Kazin, really, wouldn’t you say, Laeron?” He nudged the other swordsman, who rolled his eyes and gave a non-committal shrug.
The sword master sighed and pressed on. “We are very lucky to have these two incredibly skilled swordsmen here today, taking time out of their rigorous training schedule to show you boys how to wield a blade. They’ll give a demonstration, after which you may pose any questions you may have.”
“You forgot the bit about noble quests and protecting the kingdom’s borders.”
The other swordsman, Laeron, grinned apologetically, then jerked a thumb at his colleague. “Ralul’s the one who stole the dear sword master’s position with the Own,” he explained, drawing his sword and slapping the shorter man’s nose with the flat of the blade.
Ralul frowned and drew his own sword, following Laeron into the ‘ring’. “I won my place quite fairly, thank you very much.”
Laeron grinned and brought his sword up, the intricate patterns on the guard visible even in the dim light of the barracks. “You didn’t win it through me, though.”
Kael rolled his eyes. He supposed that eventually the banter would cease, they would clash swords a few times, banter some more, and then he could go home while the rest of the boys inflated their egos more than was healthy. They already rode horses, held specialised swords and had half of the kingdom cheering them on whenever they left or returned from a campaign, or indeed, whenever they were seen. There was really no need for this. They had more recognition than they deserved already.
Finally, the men fell into silence and began circling each other, swords ready. For all Kael knew about picking another’s strengths and weaknesses from the action, he couldn’t identify anything of either style. Neither leg appeared stronger than the other, no muscles twitched uneasily in their arms. Doubtless, after having trained with each other so long, they knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses already, but force of habit made them hide any indications.
All Kael had learnt from living where he did was redundant in the face of these two warriors. As far as he was concerned, that was enough to tell him they were good. There was no need for street celebrations whenever one of them showed his face in public.
The boys, however, seemed to be growing restless. They whispered to each other, wondering when the men were going to actually start fighting. Kael folded his arms. Trust the upper-class to love something they understood nothing about. He suspected it was simply the name of the Queen’s Own that they loved, rather than any actual fighting skills behind that name.
Ralul’s grin grew almost imperceptibly wider; Laeron gave a near-indistinguishable nod of his head, and the two swordsmen flew at each other.
Kael blinked, completely unprepared for the battle that ensued before him. He almost caught himself letting out a stunned “wow” with the other boys as the silver blades flew in a ringing storm of blurred steel.
The swordsmen dodged, defended and parried each other’s blows with the skill and speed that only came after years of practice and training with the best. Their bare feet slid and kicked up small dust storms of their own, turning their shins dull red from the floor of the barracks. It seemed sometimes that one blade was absolutely certain to hit, but either the other blade crashed hard into it, or its barer managed to somehow twist out of the way of the razor-sharp edge.
In the time it took to blink, Laeron had lodged the tip of his sword under Ralul’s hilt, flicked it away behind him, and had the glinting tip of his sword levelled at the younger man’s throat before Ralul’s blade had come clattering to the earth behind him.
Ralul grinned broadly and yielded briefly with his right hand. “That was always going to happen,” he said between breaths.
Laeron nodded. “Probably,” he admitted, sliding his sword back into its sheath.
Ralul turned to gather his fallen blade, but not before glancing at the stunned crowd before him. His eyes managed to catch Kael’s, and he jerked his eyebrows a few times.
Kael set his brow back in a frown, glaring as much at the stuck-up swordsman as at himself for having been so impressed at the performance. Now the Own would see him as just another among the crowd of pathetic young boys wishing to join the ranks.
The swordsman evidently didn’t know what to make of Kael’s obvious annoyance, and bent down to retrieve his fallen sword and return it to its sheath, deliberately not making eye contact with Kael again.
The sword master applauded the two warriors from his position by the wall. “Good, very good. I hope you boys were taking notes. Now, if anyone has any questions, about the Own or anything like that, now is the time to ask them.”
Kael rested back on his hands and yawned, preparing himself for more banter and boasting as the two riders of the Queen’s Own raised themselves higher yet on their pedestals.
~ ~ ~
Chapter~ 1651
Total~ 20 443
Time~ 2hrs, 10mins
Total~ 28hrs, 27mins
Notes~ I'm so behind~ =3;;; Blame that on essay and work and... I swear something else has come up. Meh, whatever, I'll catch up. I actually had other plans for this chapter, but~ they didn't happen so I'll have to do them tomorrow, I guess. It stretched longer than I'd previously expected. I like swords X)~ (Everyone: No~ shit =D;)
“And here you were thinking I couldn’t fall correctly,” Niloren sneered at him.
While his arm had still been in a sling, the sword master had partnered him with weaker and weaker opponents. Each and every one of them seemed to delight in Kael’s injury—all through last year, Kael had been the best with both dagger and bare knuckles. They didn’t pass up the opportunity to best him at something, even if it was a weapon he’d never wielded and only had one arm with which to wield it.
The bonus was that, like with the daggers, they began fighting with wooden blades, so at least he wouldn’t be cut at all. Instead, he was poked, tapped and prodded in his arm. The boys tried to make it look accidental, but their apologies were far from genuine. For his part, Kael decided the best option was to simply grit his teeth and bare it until the sword master gave him yet another new opponent, until he’d gone through just about every boy without a red swordsman shirt in the training group.
The five weeks it took for his broken bone to mend itself seemed to take considerably longer than five weeks. For the last week or so, he was certain he would have been able to take the sling and splint off, but the healers had insisted on leaving it on, ‘just in case’. He’d been flexing his fingers in anticipation that whole week, itching to grip a sword or dagger hilt with them. When the splint finally did come off and Kael kneaded his fingers over the mended bone, he could feel the lump in his forearm where it had been broken and hadn’t set quite straight.
Upon returning to sword training with both arms operational, he was more than a little annoyed to note how much weaker his right arm had become over the intervening weeks. His right arm had always been the weaker, but now it was so much so that he could barely grip the hilt. He often found himself falling back to rely on just the one hand, holding his right against his chest where it had been for so long. It was more of a conscious act to keep both hands on the hilt than it should have been, and regardless of how many times the sword master or Wilari, his eventual partner, tried to drum it into him to use both hands, it just wouldn’t happen.
“It shall be the death of you, Kael,” Wilari told him, his wooden blade tip levelled at Kael’s throat.
Kael shrugged, slapping his right hand over his heart and holding it, palm out, to the victor. “I plan on using shorter blades.”
“And I plan on taking bow and arrow to hand on my first ride to Kazin, but it is still required that we each win seventy points in the examination at the end of final year.”
Kael frowned and brought his wooden sword to his near-one handed version of the ready position. “I’ll work it out by then.”
Wilari sighed and swung his sword up. By the time the two blades clacked together, Kael only had one hand gripping the hilt.
Not long before the Winter Solstice celebrations, when Kael arrived at one of his sword training sessions, two other men in red swordsmen shirts stood chatting with the sword master. Both had their swords sheathed at their hips, and from what Kael could see, they weren’t regulation army swords.
“Aeia, no,” he muttered under his breath.
He looked with disdain at the ostentatious, glittering sword hilts. The nervous but excited chatter he caught from the other boys confirmed his thoughts. These two men fought with the Queen’s Own.
The sword master pushed himself away from the wall and clapped a few times for silence. “Okay gentlemen,” he called over the rabble. The boys quietened, but there was still a hum in the air that rang of their expectations of what was to come.
“As you have no doubt guessed by now, the two gentlemen behind me ride with the Queen’s Own. You may have heard they are due to depart for Kazin in a few days time—”
“Tomorrow, actually,” the shorter of the men interrupted.
“—tomorrow,” the sword master amended, “and we are therefore very lucky to—”
“It’s more borderlands than Kazin, really, wouldn’t you say, Laeron?” He nudged the other swordsman, who rolled his eyes and gave a non-committal shrug.
The sword master sighed and pressed on. “We are very lucky to have these two incredibly skilled swordsmen here today, taking time out of their rigorous training schedule to show you boys how to wield a blade. They’ll give a demonstration, after which you may pose any questions you may have.”
“You forgot the bit about noble quests and protecting the kingdom’s borders.”
The other swordsman, Laeron, grinned apologetically, then jerked a thumb at his colleague. “Ralul’s the one who stole the dear sword master’s position with the Own,” he explained, drawing his sword and slapping the shorter man’s nose with the flat of the blade.
Ralul frowned and drew his own sword, following Laeron into the ‘ring’. “I won my place quite fairly, thank you very much.”
Laeron grinned and brought his sword up, the intricate patterns on the guard visible even in the dim light of the barracks. “You didn’t win it through me, though.”
Kael rolled his eyes. He supposed that eventually the banter would cease, they would clash swords a few times, banter some more, and then he could go home while the rest of the boys inflated their egos more than was healthy. They already rode horses, held specialised swords and had half of the kingdom cheering them on whenever they left or returned from a campaign, or indeed, whenever they were seen. There was really no need for this. They had more recognition than they deserved already.
Finally, the men fell into silence and began circling each other, swords ready. For all Kael knew about picking another’s strengths and weaknesses from the action, he couldn’t identify anything of either style. Neither leg appeared stronger than the other, no muscles twitched uneasily in their arms. Doubtless, after having trained with each other so long, they knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses already, but force of habit made them hide any indications.
All Kael had learnt from living where he did was redundant in the face of these two warriors. As far as he was concerned, that was enough to tell him they were good. There was no need for street celebrations whenever one of them showed his face in public.
The boys, however, seemed to be growing restless. They whispered to each other, wondering when the men were going to actually start fighting. Kael folded his arms. Trust the upper-class to love something they understood nothing about. He suspected it was simply the name of the Queen’s Own that they loved, rather than any actual fighting skills behind that name.
Ralul’s grin grew almost imperceptibly wider; Laeron gave a near-indistinguishable nod of his head, and the two swordsmen flew at each other.
Kael blinked, completely unprepared for the battle that ensued before him. He almost caught himself letting out a stunned “wow” with the other boys as the silver blades flew in a ringing storm of blurred steel.
The swordsmen dodged, defended and parried each other’s blows with the skill and speed that only came after years of practice and training with the best. Their bare feet slid and kicked up small dust storms of their own, turning their shins dull red from the floor of the barracks. It seemed sometimes that one blade was absolutely certain to hit, but either the other blade crashed hard into it, or its barer managed to somehow twist out of the way of the razor-sharp edge.
In the time it took to blink, Laeron had lodged the tip of his sword under Ralul’s hilt, flicked it away behind him, and had the glinting tip of his sword levelled at the younger man’s throat before Ralul’s blade had come clattering to the earth behind him.
Ralul grinned broadly and yielded briefly with his right hand. “That was always going to happen,” he said between breaths.
Laeron nodded. “Probably,” he admitted, sliding his sword back into its sheath.
Ralul turned to gather his fallen blade, but not before glancing at the stunned crowd before him. His eyes managed to catch Kael’s, and he jerked his eyebrows a few times.
Kael set his brow back in a frown, glaring as much at the stuck-up swordsman as at himself for having been so impressed at the performance. Now the Own would see him as just another among the crowd of pathetic young boys wishing to join the ranks.
The swordsman evidently didn’t know what to make of Kael’s obvious annoyance, and bent down to retrieve his fallen sword and return it to its sheath, deliberately not making eye contact with Kael again.
The sword master applauded the two warriors from his position by the wall. “Good, very good. I hope you boys were taking notes. Now, if anyone has any questions, about the Own or anything like that, now is the time to ask them.”
Kael rested back on his hands and yawned, preparing himself for more banter and boasting as the two riders of the Queen’s Own raised themselves higher yet on their pedestals.
Chapter~ 1651
Total~ 20 443
Time~ 2hrs, 10mins
Total~ 28hrs, 27mins
Notes~ I'm so behind~ =3;;; Blame that on essay and work and... I swear something else has come up. Meh, whatever, I'll catch up. I actually had other plans for this chapter, but~ they didn't happen so I'll have to do them tomorrow, I guess. It stretched longer than I'd previously expected. I like swords X)~ (Everyone: No~ shit =D;)
no subject
Date: 2004-11-16 08:41 am (UTC)(the other thing that came up was WoW, I believe X)
no subject
Date: 2004-11-16 08:49 am (UTC)(And yes, that was the other thing I was trying to think of =D Mmm~ WoW~)