Snow had been falling all morning, and the cold rendered the cobblestones of the yard slippery. Liha parried his adversary's blow with his wooden blade and used his momentum to whirl around his axis and attack from the left. This tactic allowed him an advantage against right-handed opponents, he found. The move worked. The blunt training blade slammed into his sparring partner's ribs. With a sharp weapon, he would have suffered a deep wound. As it was, he back-stepped, clutching his side, slipped and fell to his bum in the slush. "Ouch."
Liha reached out to help him up. "Sorry. That must have hurt."
"It's fine. We're here to learn." The young man patted the snow from his pants. "Another round?"
Liha nodded, but they didn't get to engage in a second fight.
"Stop, everyone, and listen." The sharp voice of the weapon master called the trainees together. "I know you only started your education a moon ago. Still, each of you has learned a lot during this time. And I'm sure you'll learn much more where we are headed."
He paused and scanned the two dozen young warriors assembled around him. "You will join the king's campaign against the hordes of Lelai."
One moment a stunned silence hung over the yard before the men cheered and clattered their training blades onto their shields, the ruckus drowning everything else the master would have added.
Liha didn't join, but the fire of determination smouldering in his chest received new fuel. On the march against the king's enemies, he would make the mercenaries pay for their cruelty and get his revenge.
The officer waited for the excitement to die before he addressed them again. "You will move to the field camp tomorrow with a guard detachment. So, use the day to say your goodbyes to family, friends, and lovers. Gather your equipment and be here at sunrise. That's all."
When he left the yard, a buzz of agitated conversation started. Liha stood aside. After the first bad days, he adapted and earned the respect of most of his fellow trainees. He knew his friendship with Berim and Pentim's respect had helped, although he didn't see the warrior and the prince often. But coming from a small hamlet in the far north of Kelèn, he had little in common with the sons of Penira nobility and wealthy merchants.
With a shrug, he left the yard to fetch his coat in the dormitory. On his way out of the fortress, he mulled over the changes his life had undergone this last moon. His time had been filled with fighting lessons, and he had worked hard to catch up with his peers. As Berim pointed out, good swordsmanship was more than knowing the blunt from the pointy end of a weapon. Liha knew he had a long way to go until perfection. But perfection had to wait—war came first.
The thrilling news put a spring into his step as he walked down the cobbled streets to the lower quarters and turned into the narrow alley where his oldest friend in the city lived.
Liha rushed up the stairs two steps at a time and knocked at Naiin's door. There was no answer. Too agitated to wait on the doorstep, he climbed to the little roof garden where he had spent his first night with Dánirah. He hadn't thought about the young woman for a while, but in this secret spot, it felt as if she stood beside him. Had she reunited with her mother? He hoped she was fine up north, where the crimson veil of war was about to cover the land.
Along the rickety railing, someone had placed a row of plant pots. The flowers or herbs they contained had withered and succumbed to the frost, but with their caps of pristine snow, the pots looked like a row of dwarfs—or brave soldiers. Liha chuckled. Even his perception of mundane things shifted because of his training. He bent over the railing to look down into the alley, cutting through the sea of roofs like a perilous gorge full of dark secrets. The people hustling along on urgent business looked tiny from up here. He searched for Naiin but didn't spot her.
Disappointed, he lifted his face to the sky and let the snow fall on it.
"Are you trying to catch a cold?"
He blinked the snowflakes from his lashes and turned to the newcomer. "Naiin, how did you know I'm up here?"
"You left the window a crack open, and your footprints were hard to overlook." The woman studied him from head to toe. "You are building some muscle. The training and regular meals become you."
Liha laughed. "Thanks, I guess. I'm done with training, though. The officers claim it is time to join the host. I came to say goodbye—the king's men will leave for the north tomorrow."
Naiin slung her arms around herself. "Then the rumours are true, and we head into another war."
"Yes, and I pray I will find an opportunity to avenge family."
His friend tilted her head, snowflakes hanging in her reddish curls like little stars. "Piling death on death doesn't make it easier to bear the loss."
Liha stared at his feet. "Berim said something similar. Naiin, I wanted to ask..."
"Your Berim sounds like a wise man. What would you like to know?"
He scratched his neck. "As this is my last night here, would you? I mean—could you—show me how it is done?"
Comprehension lit her eyes, and she shook her curls, sending the snow stars flying. "No, Liha, I won't be the one to take your virginity. There will be a better person and a nicer place to make a lasting memory."
"Why?" His frown deepened.
"Don't look at me like this. Since the day I found you down in that alley, I can't help but wonder how my son would have turned out. He would be your age."
"What happened?"
"War happened. The train of an army is no place for a newborn." She closed her eyes, a tear hanging on her lashes. Liha wondered what hurtful pictures flooded her mind.
"I'm sorry, Naiin. I didn't know."
"It's not your fault, Liha. Just—just make sure you stay safe. Will you do this for me?"
Liha stared into the dancing flakes. He had thought there was nothing left for him, no family, no responsibility. And yet this woman went out of her way and helped him several times, showing genuine concern. "I promise. I'll return if I can, and you can show me your flowers." He pointed at the snow-capped pots.
"I'll take your word for it—and good care of them until the day your return. Come, let's eat something, I'll invite you. It might be long until you get a decent meal."
The following morning held another surprise for Liha. When the trainees assembled in the yard, Melish joined the weapons master and talked to him in a low voice. The officer stroked his chin, nodded, and signalled Liha to step forward.
Melish frowned. "You are the archer, right?"
Liha studied the burly warrior's face, but it remained blank. What was the man up to? He straightened and answered. "Yes."
"Can you ride?"
"Yes. But I don't have a horse." Liha knew the riders in the troops owned their horses.
Melish exchanged a glance with the weapons master. "That won't be an issue. It's settled then."
The officer nodded. "Go pick a bow and a sword from the stock. This man will tell you what you need. Congratulations, you got a promotion."
Baffled, Liha nodded and followed Melish into the armoury. "What's this about?"
"I'm collecting members for a scouting team. Berim told me you're a wizard with a bow. This will be an asset."
"But—" Melish cut him off with a gesture.
"We can discuss it later. Here, this seems to be a decent blade. I'll see if I can find a shield for a leftie. Go pick a bow—and arrows, too. I asked Berim to organise clothes for you." He glanced at Liha's tattered shoes. "Might as well add a pair of boots."
When Melish's group assembled to leave the castle before noon, Liha wore a fresh shirt, breeches, coat, and sturdy riding boots. Berim offered him the use of his mare, and he was happy to reunite with the animal.
In his excitement, it took Liha half the ride through the city to realise the others in the group didn't wear their guard uniforms. When he pointed it out, Melish laughed. "Better this way. We don't want to betray who we are."
The man didn't show any of his former arrogant behaviour and treated Liha as any other member of the group. He straightened in his seat, and Melish chuckled. "Yes, you're part of the troop now. But don't get cheeky. I promised your officer to continue your training. So, I'm afraid you'll have to work hard."
"Thanks for having me." Liha suspected that he owed his selection to Berim, but he knew none of the men would enlighten him.
Melish laughed. "At least I know you can keep up with the group and won't complain if your curls get wet in the rain."
"I promise I won't hold you back."
"You better won't." Melish shook the reins and took the lead to overtake a merchant train in front of the main gate.
Liha didn't mind the leader's gruff demeanour. To the contrary—his heartbeat soared as they passed the gate. He felt far more at ease amongst these men than with his peers. When they rode out of the city, he couldn't help feeling like a prince and wondered if Pentim would join the host, too. But the king would avoid risking his heir's life. Liha could imagine the short-tempered prince fuming.
Melish led his six men on the same road northwards they had travelled only last moon. They stopped for the night in a guest house, and Berim took it upon himself to teach him sword fighting before dinner in the backyard. He used the naked blade, and at first, Liha was terrified, remembering the fight on application day and the chest wound Naiin had insisted on sewing. But Berim was a true master. He knew exactly when to stop and how to avoid hurting his opponent with more than a superficial scratch.
Afterwards, Liha felt twice as tired as after a training day in the castle. When he slumped down on a bench in the tavern, Berim handed him a bowl of soup and a chunk of bread and cheese. "Tired, young dragon?"
"No, I'm fine." He found hardly the energy to spoon his soup. But his rumbling stomach craved it. "You're the better trainer than the guard officers we got in the palace."
Melish, who joined the men with tankards of ale, chuckled. "He sure is. A seasoned fighter and one of the best. And a great scout, despite his ancestry."
Liha spooned soup into his mouth. "What's the matter with your ancestry, Berim?"
"My mother was a Tanna, As you might have guessed."
"Why should this affect your fighting and scouting capabilities?" So far, Liha had never dared to ask.
Melish slapped his shoulder. "That's the point, it doesn't. Never judge a man by the colour of his skin."
One of the other soldiers laughed. "Nor a woman."
The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and the ale made Liha dizzy. He was glad when Berim stood up. "Time to get our rest. We have a long ride tomorrow." He took Liha's arm and guided him to the room the men shared.
"Berim, why did you invite me to come?"
"Ah, just a feeling." He rubbed his neck. "Blame my clairvoyant Tannarí ancestry. And you're decent with a bow. Probably better than I am, and this will help where we're headed."
"Archery isn't regarded well with most of the guards."
"It is with those who have been to war, believe me. But rest now, young dragon."
Liha sank to his cot. "Why do you call me dragon?"
"Because it suits you. Good night."
That night, Liha dreamed of dragons.
(2047 words)