The Brightest Shadow, page 21
Yet it was a different man. Then the previous one couldn't have been the Hero - of course there could only be one. That fact seemed so obvious that he could barely even remember the pure smile and the gleaming sword untouched by blood.
Slaten raised his arm to his teeth and bit down until he tasted blood. The harsh taste helped him think a little clearer.
But he still couldn't see a way through the light.
Chapter 13
-
"Please, do not do this. Though we have lost a precious part of our next generation, we cannot allow our grief to drive us to suicidal anger. This Deathspawn commander would allow us to surrender in name only and go about our way of life. He even contracted a Nelee girl to return our texts to us. Will you send your people through burning rain for a few bright promises?"
- excerpt from a letter written by a Yevee master
-
Their party gathered before the mound of stones, ragged but overflowing with new purpose. Everywhere Melal turned, he saw eyes filled with the same light. Even the dourest of his companions were inspired by the man who stood before them. The Hero stood atop one of the boulders, finishing his sweeping words and moving to practical matters.
"During the rains, the Deathspawn fell upon a group of our allies. Many were brutally killed, but more were captured." The Hero abruptly swung an arm to point out over the horizon. "And they are being held in the outpost of Keval!
"The outpost is poorly defended, but remote. We need to not only take it back from the Deathspawn, but to feed all those we can rescue. Now, thanks to the acquisition of supplies, we can make the journey. In one stroke, we can increase our forces and strike down a bastion of Deathspawn oppression! Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow, we march to battle!"
When the Hero raised his sword into the sky, Melal couldn't help but pump a fist into the air. His shouts joined those of all the others around him. While they were cheering, he could believe that all of them would come together as the Hero's Army.
It was a scattered group, even he had to admit. As they left the wagons, they had met up with other small groups. Mostly men and a few women, Coran except for one group of Rhen. All were trained in internal strength and seemed tough to Melal, though Veron and Efeinas were clearly far above the rest. At the back of the army walked their little group: Melal, Napenel, Tani, Eraes, and Slaten.
They had stayed somewhat together simply because they knew each other, but now Melal found himself being herded toward them by Veron. Soon he was standing with the others, and to his surprise, the Hero came to address them directly.
"Our cause requires every hand that can hold a weapon." The Hero spoke more softly now, just to them, but his voice resonated as it always did. "The five of you have begun your training, but you have a long path to walk. It will be eleven days until we reach Keval. In that time, all of you need to train as hard as you can - Veron, you will guide their training."
"Wait, what the fuck?" Veron had been about to take a drink and now lowered her flask. "Why me?"
"They require a strong hand, and Efeinas is not suited for teaching. Besides, I believe your Coran arts would be of more use to them in such a short time than anything else they could be taught."
Veron looked liked she wanted to say something else, then swallowed it. She bowed slightly to the Hero. "I'll do what I can."
"I know you will." With that he turned away, tunic shining in the sun. Melal wanted to watch him go, but felt equally driven by this new purpose. As they followed Veron away from their camp, he thought of what was to come.
Proud as he was of his strength, Melal knew that he needed more. The idea of fighting alongside the Hero, of being able to help him in even the smallest way... he'd do anything to reach that point one day! It pained him to say that Veron was much stronger than him, so he'd learn what he could from her.
And training with the bandit woman wouldn't be bad either. Now that she was no longer against them, Melal had been spending plenty of time watching her. She'd stayed in the same armor the entire time and didn't seem to sweat no matter how hot it was, but he'd give an arm to see that body covered in sweat underneath him...
Veron looked over all of them and Melal thought her gaze lingered on Eraes and Napenel. They did have the least training, so she could do the least with them. Melal resolved to set himself apart from the others, to get her respect and maybe more.
"I need more booze." Veron pulled a jug off her belt, tipped her head back, and drank. After swallowing a surprising amount, she finally took a breath, wiped off her mouth, and looked at them. "Alright, kids. I've never done this before, so... hit each other, or something? That's training."
Though Melal would have been happy to throw himself into wrestling, especially because it played to his strengths, Tani stepped forward and spoke clearly. "Master Veron... if we will be going into battle in a few days, please, we need more help than that."
"None of that 'Master' shit. What do you want?"
"For example, your speed is quite impressive. If you could teach the arts by whi-"
"You don't got the sein for it." Veron took another drink, swirled it around in her mouth, then spat it out. "Honestly, what are you going to learn in eleven days? Hell, best I can do is teach you not to run around like cockatrices with their tails cut off."
Melal cleared his throat. "Can't you help teach us the basics? Not strength, just how to fight."
"Huh. Yeah, maybe I can keep you from acting like idiots. Thing is, a lot of it comes down to experience. I mean, any idiot can see that one of those big Catai isn't going to go down to a tiny little knife. But you need to look deeper to see that some short man with a lot of scars might be just as tough. And you can get a sense if someone's fast based on how they move, but they can hide that, ya know? First step is always to know what the hell you're dealing with."
After rambling for a while longer, Veron seemed to lose interest. She crooked a finger in his direction and Melal's heart leapt before he realized she was pointing at Napenel.
"You, come over here. Might as well show you directly."
Napenel moved to stand across from her somewhat stiffly. Veron hooked her jug back on her belt and looked at him.
"What do you know, kid? You've trained some, right? Got any tricks?"
"I..." Napenel had been staring blankly and only then started to focus on her. "I've learned the Flashing Kick of Eastern Corah."
"That'll do. Kick me. Try, I mean."
Napenel shifted his weight onto one foot, carefully gathering his sein. The technique was unpracticed, but clearly strong.
Before he could get into kicking position, Veron poked him in the chest with her sword sheath. He grunted and staggered back, wincing. Veron turned to the others.
"That's my biggest piece of advice for all of you: don't get wrapped up in the fancy shit. Maybe your granddaddy can split boulders with his Glorious Toes of Thunder or whatever. You ain't him. Combat is not the time to try out your flashy new skills. Stick to something solid that will make 'em hurt. Don't spin around like a fucking top unless you're damn sure it will work."
Melal glanced at the others and saw that they were starting to take her seriously as well. He wanted to ask a question, but Slaten spoke up first. "Doesn't always going for a direct blow make you predictable?"
"The way I figure, if your opponent is good enough to do any predicting, you've already got yourself a serious fight. And I said don't waste time, not that you have to go lunging for a deathblow every chance you get. Lots of so-so fighters will focus on defending their heart and head, which actually leaves them vulnerable. Attack for the chest, keep it up, then when they slow down... kick 'em in the crotch."
"What if it's a woman?" Eraes asked.
Veron considered that for a long moment, taking another drink from her jug before answering. "Kick 'em in the crotch. Nobody likes getting kicked in the crotch."
It sounded like good advice, though Melal was starting to wonder if she was really telling them anything they didn't already know. Obviously you didn't waste time. The reason she had beaten them before was that she was too fast and strong, not because of any strategy. But he held his tongue and listened. Didn't have a chance of getting Veron interested in him if he didn't look like he took her seriously.
"Alright, that's enough talking." Veron cracked her neck in both directions. "Now let's hit each other."
~ ~ ~
Though they were sore when they gathered to eat at the end of the night, the training had gone better than Tani had hoped. Veron could certainly never have passed as a master in any tribe, but she knew what she was doing. There was much Tani could learn from someone who had more experience fighting than training, so she tried to absorb as much as possible.
Once the work ended, the air felt different. It had grown colder and her sweat chilled her underneath her clothes. There was a single smokey fire that didn't provide much warmth, and their group was at the edge anyway. They'd been given nothing but Coran bread, but given how hard they'd worked, everyone ate without complaining.
Worst of all was the haze in her mind. It still hadn't cleared, but when Tani sat down next to Slaten and Eraes, it seemed like something changed. Eraes wasn't filled with hope like some of the others, her eyes had a cynical cast. And Slaten's flat stare was the opposite of optimism.
They made room for her, but said nothing. Eventually Tani decided that she would need to be the first one to speak. "Exactly what is happening here?"
"We're fighting a glorious battle with the Hero." Eraes smirked bitterly, then rubbed her back. "I'm going to have bruises everywhere. It's not fair putting me up against trained fighters like that..."
"But..." Tani wanted to say that none of this made any sense. Everything seemed so clear and logical when the Hero was speaking, but it didn't make sense for them to forget their assignment. Kolanin had given them a meaningful task they shouldn't abandon just because he was a Deathspawn.
Yet she struggled to say any of that. Just thinking about it made her a little dizzy, and trying to speak about it seemed impossible. Would they judge her for doubting? Tani tried to tell herself that they wouldn't, she knew them well enough for that. In the end she said nothing.
"The plan doesn't make sense." Slaten spoke slowly, staring away from them. "If the Hero wanted more people to fight for him, why didn't he approach Bardel and the others? They have more to offer than we do."
"That's right!" Tani eagerly spoke after he broke the silence. "And Veron didn't act like she was going to recruit us at all, at first. If things had gone differently, she probably would have just taken our supplies."
Slaten nodded back, something unspoken passing between them. They couldn't speak about what was on their minds, but this was as close as they could get. After an uncomfortable pause, Eraes spoke slowly.
"The main part of the plan does at least make a little sense. I asked Efeinas about th-"
Tani cast her a glance and Eraes shrugged.
"He's a bastard at the best of times, but he's under control right now and he knows what's going on. You think I'm going to ask the Hero about details?" That sat with them for a while, then Eraes continued. "Anyway, he told me about Keval and it sounds like a good target. Not defended enough, and even if they've tortured or killed captives, there are probably more who can be recovered. The Deathspawn are pretty stupid to hold prisoners there, to be honest, but they might be assuming the remoteness of the outpost would be defense enough."
"Then..." Tani swallowed. "We do have to stick with them. Go to Keval, fight the Deathspawn, rescue these allies."
"Do we have any choice about anything? If the... if Veron or Efeinas ask us to dance a stupid dance, what are we going to do about it? They're a lot stronger than you, much less me."
They all acknowledged that in silence. That, at least, Tani could accept without any confusion. The kind of power they were facing, they didn't have much of a choice. Better that they were being asked to fight in this battle than having that power used against them in worse ways.
Since it was hard to talk about that subject and there wasn't much more to say, the conversation drifted onward. Eraes said they'd lost the Yenith board and regretted it. Slaten had many thoughts about their training. Eraes was trying too hard to be cheerful and Slaten seemed to be carrying something inside him that he refused to show, but it was better than nothing. As the conversation passed, Tani even managed to enjoy herself.
But soon, it was too late for that. They needed sleep, because tomorrow would be another day of travel followed by more training. And then... well, it was easier to just focus on tomorrow.
Chapter 14
-
"Well it is known: the arts of the Nelee allow a warrior to strike as swiftly as the wind, the arts of the Yevee grant a warrior the unending strength of the wind, and the arts of the Kelfaa cause a warrior to create a loud and fragrant wind."
- old Nelee joke
-
On the last night of their journey, they stopped training so that everyone could rest. While Slaten felt like he'd learned some things sparring under the eye of a strong warrior, that wouldn't do him any good if he arrived bruised and sleep-deprived. Instead of training, they'd spent the night meditating so that they would be at their best for the attack on Keval.
At least, he thought that was Veron's rationale. She also seemed like she really wanted an excuse to get out of teaching.
It was unclear how long they'd travel until they arrived. They'd been walking half the day so far and there was no sign of the outpost, but allegedly it was a small one. The Hero had disappeared without explanation at some point and the other warriors seemed not to question it, simply continuing forward.
Slaten spotted a structure of some kind ahead and wondered if it might be their target. He shielded his eyes from the sun to try to look better and still couldn't tell. Eraes was walking closest to him, head down, so he turned to her.
"Could that be Keval?"
"Probably not. It would be too soon." She looked as well, then shook her head. "Doesn't look like it. I lose a bit of my sense of direction out here since almost everything looks the same, but I can usually track our distance fairly well. We have an hour or two yet."
"Hmm." Slaten didn't say anything and kept walking. He realized slowly that Eraes was nervous - that made sense, given that she was going to be thrown into a battle. Though he was terrible at helping with that sort of thing, he did have a question he'd been meaning to ask. "Can you actually see that far ahead clearly?"
"Oh, sure. It's a ruin of some kind, looks pretty old."
"How? Unless your eyes are simply unusually good, you must have trained in some technique."
"Definitely. I may not be trained in combat," Eraes rubbed her lower back as she'd been doing since the training began, "but being a tactician involves training as well. Seeing the battlefield is useful, and of course I've trained to see sein as well."
Slaten looked at her in surprise. "You can see sein directly? I've always heard that vision is one of the most difficult senses to grasp."
"It is, but in Teralanth there are specialized techniques for it. Vision is the only sense I have, but it's the most useful for a tactician."
"Hmm." Slaten began circulating sein within himself. "How does it look? Do you see what I'm doing now?"
"You're not glowing like a lantern or anything. It's hard to describe, less like a light than like... more like being able to see a new color. So I see your sein moving, but I couldn't draw what I see." Eraes paused a while, then pointed out toward the horizon, where the heat rose in shimmering waves. "But when someone is truly strong, it looks like heat waves."
That raised new questions, and the conversation carried them until they got closer to the ruins. Slaten had expected an abandoned Coran hut and was surprised to find the crumbled walls had been made of stone. It looked like there had once been something quite large, perhaps even a tower. Now it was only a few walls and a bit of rubble, almost invisible in the side of a small hill.
Since their group didn't move very quickly, Slaten headed to look over the ruin more carefully. The walls appeared ordinary enough, if ancient, but on the inside he found a large portion of intact wall covered by a carving. The outer walls were rough bricks, but this carving appeared to be from a single piece of stone. Though time had heavily worn the surface, he could make out the carving of some kind of wheel, symbols like no language he knew written around it.
"Huh. I didn't know you had those there." Eraes sat behind him, taking the moment to rest against the wall. Slaten returned to looking at the wheel, fascinated though it meant nothing to him.
"I've seen another ruin closer to home," Slaten said, "though not one with a carving like this. An elder said that the ruins in the Chorhan Expanse usually get worn down by the wind and rain."
"Huh."
Slaten kept looking for a while, but the carving gave up no secrets. He admired how perfectly it had been etched, straight from the solid piece of stone. Could any group in the Chorhan Expanse shape stone like this? Allegedly they had impressive stone carvings in South Corah, but he'd never seen them.
Only as he was turning away did he reflect on what Eraes had said. "You suggested that you've seen ruins like these before?"
"Definitely." Eraes rose as he started to leave. "I'm not a scholar, but it's something that scholars care about. You find ruins all over the world - some of them recent, of course, but many of them ancient. Teralanth has eight hundred years of trustworthy records, and there are ruins that aren't explained by any of them."
When they emerged, to Slaten's surprise the others hadn't moved past them. Instead, they were milling around near the ruins, some arguing and others just waiting. They glanced at each other and moved toward Veron and Efeinas, but the two seemed to have finished just as they arrived. Veron waved her jug at them lazily.
