The House of Yeel (16 page)

“It’s not the size that
matters. Or so the knight who taught me said. He was my first,”
Kasil winked at Jymoor.

“When did you learn?”

“The sword or the bed?
Doesn’t matter. The answer is the same. I was but fourteen
summers.”

Kasil cut the conversation
short by dropping the sword down in an attack. Jymoor deflected it
to one side, but Kasil simply spun with it, sending the huge weapon
in a long arc to attack Jymoor from the other side. Even with the
moon armor’s strength, she couldn’t bring the heavy weapon around
in time to block it. It smashed into her arm with a clang, almost
knocking her off balance.

The pain awakened Jymoor’s
aggression. She swung back angrily. The huge weapon made noise
cutting through the air. Jymoor swung again, forcing Kasil back.
Then she lined up the sword for a thrust.

“Impressive!” Kasil said.
Suddenly, she smashed Jymoor’s sword aside, letting her own sword
fly way out of kilter, then smashed its pommel into the side of the
moon helm. Jymoor staggered back and fell.

“If you want to fight a knight, then rough
play is the order of the day!” Kasil trumpeted. “Both in bed and
out, believe me!” she added more quietly.

Jymoor shook her head. Such
skill! Kasil’s arms were strong, but they were hardly suitable for
slinging such weapons around. Yet she could easily best
Jymoor.

“I think that’s the only
time I saw your sword go out of line with my heart,” Jymoor
said.

“Of course. I can hardly skewer you through
that moon armor, can I?” she answered happily.

Kasil fought her gracefully for several more
minutes. Jymoor slashed and hacked at the sword master, but Kasil
always ducked, dodged, or leaped her way out of trouble. In return,
Jymoor received a few nasty bruises from her opponent. Finally,
Kasil raised her open hand in submission. The sword master was
gasping for breath.

“Enough. I yield. I’m not
the young woman I used to be,” Kasil admitted.

Jymoor pulled off the moon helm.

“What you taught me today
makes very good sense. I feel you’re a better teacher than Legrach.
But I’m worried about armor. Many of the barbarians wear
breastplates.”

“The barbarians from the
North I’ve encountered are seldom in full plate like the king’s
knights,” Kasil noted.

“You’ve…encountered them
yourself?”

“Yes. On occasion I’ve
gotten out to see the world. Of course, I’ve been indisposed in the
garden for a long while. I haven’t seen this particular army of
which you speak.”

“Their numbers are endless,”
Jymoor said.

“Anyway, they often wear
helms with open faces. Their necks are exposed as well. You’ll do
fine with a thrust. Or as I said, I’m sure someone could teach you
the mace. Your arms aren’t as thick as tree trunks, which I believe
is a prerequisite for that weapon. Unless the moon armor is
completely reliable. Does it work under the light of the
sun?”

“To a lesser degree, yes,”
Jymoor said. “From what I’ve heard, it’s most effective under the
full moon.”

“Very well. Keep a mace on
your horse for fighting under the moon. For now, though, I’ll teach
you the sword, of the faster and lighter variety.”

Chapter 11:
Skirmish

Two weeks later, Jymoor
emerged from her room at Legrach’s call. He wore a breastplate
created from the shell of some giant crustacean. It made him look
like a sea creature himself.

“Quickly,” he said. “Our
enemies are scouting in force. They’ve been spotted approaching
Ascara-home.”

“We’re going to leave the
fortress?”

“If we act now, we can kill
them before any more arrive,” Legrach said. “At least, that’s what
Vot has told us. She has spies on the mainland.”

Jymoor thought about
protesting. She hardly felt ready for a real battle, but on the
other hand, it was a sign that Legrach didn’t think of her as a
mere child. Unless he just wanted her to die and be rid of
her.

Jymoor checked herself. She had two fenlar,
her short sword, and the moon armor.

“I’m ready, then,” she
said.

They walked through the stone corridors of
the fortress. At each branch they picked up more warriors until
Jymoor was part of a stream of men. They poured out into the main
courtyard and formed ranks. Jymoor felt conspicuous in her armor,
but her mind remained mostly on the prospect of doing battle. She
flexed her hands nervously, feeling the strength of the moon armor
there.

Another tall warrior,
perhaps a leader, walked about between the ranks. The man also wore
the chitinous armor made from some once-living creature. He yelled
a few orders in a language Jymoor didn’t understand.

“What did he say?” asked
Jymoor. “Why couldn’t I understand him?”

“In times of battle, we use
our ancient language. It was the Ascaran’s language before Artaxiad
enslaved us and taught us this language.”

“Now that Artaxiad is gone,
I’m surprised you don’t always speak it.”

“Vot knows the language you
speak. So we keep it for her. Also, we’ve become used to it over
the generations. Our old language is not fully known to most of us
anymore. To me, it’s just a fighting language, though I think we
have some who can speak more of it.”

“I see. What did he want?”

“Our scouts will lead us to
the enemy,” Legrach said. “When we’re ready, the horn will sound a
single low note to signal our charge. And, of course, they’ll look
out for the rest of our enemies, in case it’s a trap. If you hear
the horn sound two high notes, that means run.”

Jymoor nodded. The leader motioned with his
arm and bellowed another order. Everyone started to move forward
toward the bridge. Jymoor gripped one of her fenlar and reviewed
what little training she had over and over in her mind as they
walked over the bridge and out among the rocks scattered over the
landscape.

The march continued through
the rugged landscape for another hour, but with her mystical energy
reserve Jymoor barely felt it. Legrach didn’t seem to feel like
talking, so Jymoor simply tried to stay calm and fit in.

Then a scout ran up to join
the front of the army. Officers ran along the column to the front
to speak with the scout and their leader. Then the officers ran
back out to the fighters. One of them came up and spoke to
Legrach’s group in the battle language.

“The plan has changed,”
Legrach told her. “We’re setting up an ambush here. The scouts will
skirmish with the enemy and lead them into this draw. Then we’ll
attack them from three sides and wipe them out.”

Jymoor nodded. It certainly sounded favorable
for her first battle.

Being on the ambushing side with a larger
force should be relatively easy to survive.

The force from Ascara-home
broke into three even groups. Jymoor went to the left flank with
the warriors around her. They clambered over some smaller black
rocks, then crouched in groups of ten or twenty between larger
boulders that rose over her head. Jymoor was with a group toward
the entrance, with a clear but narrow view of the
approach.

She crouched there counting her breaths for
an age. Then she shifted her feet carefully to dispel pins and
needles in her leg.

At last she saw something in
the approach.

A group of Ascaran scouts
moved hastily through the site of the trap. They didn’t look at
their fellows and didn’t turn around. They fled into the draw.
Jymoor lost sight of them in her narrow view, but she assumed they
must have moved through the draw and up its far side.

Jymoor finally caught sight
of the enemy. It was a mass of huge blue humanoids. The creatures
looked thick and strong. She saw armor of some black metal on most
of them, though no set of armor seemed like any other. Some had
massive shields, others helmets and bracers. Jymoor didn’t see any
in full armor like herself. She felt a bit better, estimating she
would always be able to find a spot to strike with the
fenlar.

At least a dozen monstrous
bird heads towered over the blue men. Even at a distance, Jymoor
could make out the feathered crests and hooked beaks of the giant
birds.

“What are those things? Huge birds?” she
whispered.

“Hunting birds. Flightless.
Watch their legs, they’re just as dangerous as the beak,” Legrach
told her. “Do you still have your sword?”

“Yes.”

“If you fight one of the
bird-things, use it. Your fenlar won’t hurt them.”

“The bird-things have no name?”

Legrach shook his head. “I
have no name for them. They’re not of this world. But the Meridalae
have brought them before. Now be silent.”

Jymoor watched. Her heart beat rapidly. She
licked her dry lips and wondered again if she would survive the
day.

The ambush worked. The Quan and their bird
beasts moved into the sheltered area, trying to catch the fleeing
scouts. Then a horn sounded and everyone was running forward.

Jymoor ran forward with them. Some moved
faster than others over the rough terrain, descending upon the mass
of enemies below. Jymoor found herself among the first few Ascarans
to arrive. She faced the first blue warrior who turned toward
her.

The creature bore a massive
weapon, which, though only about four feet long, had a two-foot
handle of heavy metal wrapped in leather that terminated in a
curved two-foot blade as thick as a meat cleaver. Jymoor wondered
for a split second if the blade could rip her arm off even through
her armor. Then she simply reacted, thrusting her fenlar at the
creature’s throat directly under its thick chin.

The stinger sunk into the
folds of blue skin covering its neck. Then the heavy sword slashed
out toward Jymoor’s head. Jymoor ducked. The great blade swung by
her. Jymoor leaned into her fenlar with her enhanced strength,
trying to push the creature back.

It finally seemed to react
to the poison. The blue warrior grabbed at its throat with one hand
and tried to swing the blade again with its other. Jymoor stepped
forward inside the swing, blocking its arm with her elbow. She
pushed again. The blue warrior toppled backward, still clutching at
the fenlar.

Jymoor shoved it to the
ground and stood over the vanquished foe. But there was no time to
savor the flush of victory. Another enemy was already on top of
her, its blade raised overhead. She managed to block its attack but
toppled over, landing on her back.

The Quan above her lifted
its huge black blade to cleave her in half. Jymoor uttered
something unintelligible. As soon as the blade started to
accelerate downward, she rolled to her right, away from the Quan’s
weapon arm. She felt the ground rattle next to her helmet. It had
been a close miss.

After her roll she scrabbled
to her feet. She caught a glimpse of Legrach who stood nearby,
watching. Her attacker struggled to retrieve its thick black blade
that had lodged between two massive greenish stones. Jymoor drew
her sword and thrust it in the Quan’s side. It grunted oddly, gave
her a twisted grimace, then fell atop its brother.

Now it was Jymoor’s turn to
struggle with her blade, which had stuck inside the enemy. She gave
a great heave and finally got it back out, but she was off balance
and fell backward onto the ground. She looked up at
Legrach.

Legrach stood there, motionless. Then he
offered her a hand up.

“You could have helped earlier!” she
snapped.

“I wanted to see if you
could handle it,” Legrach replied loudly, so his voice could be
heard over the nearby clash of weapons. The battle raged mere steps
away, so Jymoor only grunted in anger and hefted her sword. Her
blade looked puny compared to the Quan’s broadswords, but felt
substantial enough in her own hand. Though her sword was narrower
and longer, she doubted she had the reach advantage over the Quan
due to their size and long arms.

“Well, apparently I can
handle it,” she said. “So why don’t you try yourself before they’re
all dead?”

Surprised at her own
venom, Jymoor strode forward to find another opponent. To her
right, a huge bird creature had its beak clamped over an Ascaran’s
head. At first she
thought to chop
it off at the neck, but it moved back, pulling
the man with it, so instead she chopped at the bird’s foot. It
pulled its foot away quickly, causing her to miss her
mark.

Remembering Master Kasil’s
advice, she skipped forward and thrust for the bird’s
black-feathered chest. Her sword found its mark and sank in. The
creature released its hold on the man and squalled so loudly Jymoor
didn’t know whether to be exultant or scared of the wounded bird.
This time, her weapon came out easily, accompanied by the sound of
cracking ribs.

“Creatures with hollow bones
don’t belong on the battlefield!” she cried.

What’s wrong with
me?
Jymoor wondered.
I’m so good at this…too good.

The man she had saved was curled into a ball,
holding his bleeding head in his hands. Jymoor grabbed one of his
arms and dragged him back, retreating from the line. Since her
fellow Ascarans were steadily advancing on the outnumbered Quan and
their bird-things, it was easy enough to withdraw.