Book 2, Chapter 12: Day Six: A New Idea

Author's note: if you're reading this for the second time, go back and read the previous chapter. Very, very sorry! I posted these in the wrong order.

I awoke to the sound of roosters. Right, that’s right, we had moving chicken coops. I still didn’t get why the chickens followed us. After all, we stole and ate their unborn offspring every day. Probably they were attracted to the free food, free housing.

And then it dawned on me! The way to kill mages. Sometimes, your unconscious mind just works things out while you’re asleep.

Throwing the covers off, I did all that stuff – brushing teeth, changing clothes, pulling my armor on – and rushed out of the tent. Campfire smoke, bacon sizzling, eggs cooking, mixed in with the scent of new soil. It was amazing!

“Breakfast is nearly ready, Princess.” Morry stood over by the fire.

“You’re cooking this morning? What happened to th . . . oh. Right. I see.”

“Yes.”

“Well,” I started, not wanting the mood to be dour all day, “I guess you’re graduating from guard to chef. Congratulations!”

“Graduating?”

I ran up and squeeze hugged him. I don’t know, I was bouncy this morning. Maybe the little girl in me was spreading. “I’m off. I’ll be back, I have to go talk to the weaponsmith!”

“Ok.” He looked surprised.

“Good morning!” I blurted out as I took off and got one back, though it was doppler shifted to the blue. I don’t know why today felt good. Maybe the cry? Maybe the new day?

***

After all the Your Highnessing and greetings, I finally got to ask the master smith, “Do you have the handcuffs, excuse me, the irons that Grand Magister Tye had on when he returned to our encampment? The ones used to silence his magic.”

He scratched his head, “Why, yes. Did we capture a mage? One of those from last night?”

“No, I’m sorry to say. I have a different project in mind.”

“It’ll take me a while to find them, but I’ll find them for you and have them sent over to your tent.”

“Master Smith, I want you to reforge them. Into arrow heads. As many as you can.”

“Arrow heads?”

“Exactly. And I want you to keep this a secret. A state secret – especially from the wizards!”

“As Your Highness commands.”

I left the tent thinking that I now needed to find the best marksman we had. But after breakfast. Maybe Morry would have some ideas on how to find one. Or two.

***

Returning, I grabbed a plate of mostly bacon, but I tossed on a couple eggs, some bread. Tread and Brin were gone, so they’d probably eaten, gone off on some errand. I wondered what Brin was having Tread do.

Morry put his tea down. “We have to work on your swordsmanship.”

“I think it’s coming along. I did kill a man with my sword last night.”

“Yes, but your blade lodged in his neck. Not a clean cut. So, your technique isn’t good.”

“I’m sure you would have cut his head clean off.”

“I would have.”

“Only you would criticize my sword technique during morning tea.”

“Yes, Princess. Only I would.”

***

Later, Morry had me swinging the blade with my body, working on the cutting, not the hacking, part of it.

“Here, before we get underway, I want you to try to slice through this.” He pressed a stake into the ground and stabbed a rolled-up bundle into it.”

“What is that?”

“Reeds. Tightly woven, they make good sword practice. If you can slice through this, you can use a sword properly. It’s time for you to understand.”

“Alright.” I stepped up to the woven reeds, which looked like the kind of carpet you’d buy at an import store, alongside hand blown glasses, uneven cutlery, and thick threaded sweaters. Old school to contrast with your expensive, flat screen, ultra-high-definition monitor. Or maybe a door mat. Anyways, I swung at it, the blade whistling through the air, and bounced right off. “Ack!” The vibrations moved through my arms painfully.

“Not an axe, Princess. Try again.”

I did and bounced off. Over and over, I kept bouncing off. “Is this really for sword practice or are you having a go at me?”

“Here. Pass me your sword and stand back.”

I passed it to him in the proper manner, flat side of the blade facing him, point up. He took it from the handle and examined its blade. “I’ve never held perseidian iron before. It’s lighter than I imagined.” He ran his thumb along the edge, “Sharp, too.”

“It’s a good metal for swords, I take it?”

“A good metal for anything.” He gave a few practice swings, slicing through the air, the metal almost singing as he did so. Then he walked over to the reeds and, using only one hand, sliced diagonally upwards through it, then the opposite way, backhanded, through it, and again and again. Four times, quickly. The pieces fell about on the ground.

“Holy. How did you do that?”

He pushed a new roll onto the stake. “Lots of practice. Your turn until we get underway. Slice through it, don’t just smash into it.” He performed a slow slice, extending the blade away while twisting his body along the angle of attack.

“Actually, can you just guide me? Slowly, like what you just did.”

Morry handed me back the sword. Then, standing behind me, pressed up against my back, he put his warm hand atop mine on the sword, made the motion for both of us, a backhand diagonal from low to high. “You see? Extend the force along the blade, not into the tip. And back down,” he turned our hands over and bringing the sword back down at the same angle.

My back was chilled, just a bit, when he moved away. “Try again.”

I blinked a few times, stood before the reeds, and backhand sliced at them. The blade sunk in but didn’t cut through. “I did it!”

“Better, Princess. Better than before.”

I did a few more swings, starting to feel it. My leg led, torso followed, arm and sword, straight and through the target, ending somewhere beyond that. For just a moment, it was like I was observing this body move, almost outside it.

“Alright, enough swordplay.” Brin came into view, “You’ve got a speech to prepare for.”

Sheathing my sword, facing her, “Maybe, you could do it? I’m not so good at these-”

“Nonsense! Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up and ready.”

“I’m going as is, in this armor, Brin. We’re in the middle of a war. The soldiers need to see a warrior up there. One of their own.”

“Not a chance! They want a princess up there. To be assured that we’re still in control, that they have something to fight for. Our lands, our way of life.”

“I don’t know, that’s not me.”

“It is you! Cayce, trust me on this, ok? Come on.” She took me by the hand, pulling me along into our tents where we stripped off my armor, did all that annoying beautifying and turned me, or at least this body, back into a little girl princess. Pretty, cute even, perhaps gorgeous. In the mirror, anyways, but I’d stopped trusting mirrors a while ago.

This girl in a dress? Not a strong warrior leading them. This is what the troops wanted? I suppose Brin knew more than I did about these matters. She grew up here, after all.