I must apologize for the name problems I had last time I updated. As many of my reviewers have pointed out, the name switched half way through the story. I'm so sorry about the change of name! I've now fixed it, and hopefully you wont mind the new name.
In regards to a review about the summary, I realize that Trebond was a bandit-area fief and it was used as a reason in the TP books for Alanna to already know how to shoot an arrow and do some basic fighting. However, I've interpreted that to mean that the fighting arts played a major part in the lives of those at the Trebond fief, NOT that she ever fought live, let alone killed anyone. I believe that no one would've let a noble child, let alone a girl (who was supposed to be modest, meek, quiet and become a pretty lady) fight bandits. So, I think Rynn's the only one who killed before page training.
Oh, and I know HaMinch is supposed to be the page trainer, but I feel more comfortable writing about Wyldon, so I'm using the flexibility of the Fan Fiction world to keep him at his post for the purposes of this story.
(the bold/underlined/italic words are to help skim-readers, not out of anger or annoyance)
Thank you all for reading, and thanks for all the reviews!!!
XXxXXXxXX
Three years had passed since Lady Kelandry exited the Chamber Of Ordeal and already things were settling down. Once the conservatives found their daughters weren't rushing off to fight they'd calmed down a lot. So far, no one, well, no noble girls, had even written to Lord Wyldon to enroll as a new page. There were, admittedly, a large number of women fighting in the Riders, but that had been open to females before Kelandry got her shield. Now, as mid winter once more distracted the pages with it's promise of a whole week free of training, Lord Wyldon was relaxing at the promise of another normal year. That, however, was not to last.
Even as the training master closed his eyes for another peaceful nights rest, a disturbance stumbled its way up the sleeping Main Street. The disturbance was, to put it more politely, a young girl, bent and determined to become the next female page. Corus, a city far north of her homeland, was quite the shocker with its towering snowdrifts, freezing winds and gray skies. Back down south, farmers considered it a bad omen if the grass frosted before Yule. Corus' Main Street had been white since Samhain; that wasn't good news for Rynn.
Rynn came from SouthRidge, a very poor farmers' fief settled comfortably against the Southern Wall - a mountain range shielding Tortall from the Great Inland Sea and dividing it from Tyra. In those plains she had grown up in short dresses and cotton breeches around farm boys who worked shirtless most of the year. In that fertile 'bread basket' she had never seen so much as a speck of snow upon her roof. Understandably, Rynn was astounded, annoyed and completely unprepared for the immense amount of snow that had greeted her as far away as Prendor. It was a lot of snow, even for Corus.
So, logically, as she came from a poor fief and walked north ill equipped for such weather, Rynn walked the street in an awkward bundled of summer clothes. With no scarf, nor any mittens, she had kindly been given a patched up coat one town back which Rynn stuffed her cold hands into gratefully. If there was one thing she had learned on the road, it was that one should never pass up free goods, especially if they were useful. For the useless things, like a straw hat or leather hair thong (she had chopped her lock completely off at the following town), there was always someone she could trade them for to earn a copper or two. The straw hat had been eagerly accepted by a farmer's boy who also took the hair tie for his girl. Those four coppers had given her a warm bath and beef soup during a rainstorm in Momoth. Thinking of such things and random others, like if the peas she'd helped her family plant three long moths ago had harvested well and whether or not Lord Wyldon would accept her, Rynn crunched her way through still-falling snow.
The palace gates were huge. Ten men wide, each oak door stood taller than two men head to toe. Reinforced with thick strips of iron and bolts as large as her fist it was quite an intimidating sight. High above her, three guards peered down, however, they seemed a little bored. "What do you want?" one snapped, nothing but a large bulbous nose visible in the flickering light of his lantern.
"I am Rynn of SouthRidge," she shouted back at him. "I would like to become a page here, sir." While it hadn't always been her dream, it was a necessity she didn't mind taking care of. With her parents and older brother dead, it fell to her, the oldest child, to take over the fief as soon as possible. The best way to get the needed education: knighthood. For the time being, her grandmother Narrisah, would watch over her home with the help of one of the villagers, Jacob.
"Alrigh'" the soldier called back. One of the other men disappeared, climbing down some staircase on the other side of the wall. The enormous doors creaked open just far enough for her to slip through. The man on the other side glared at her.
"You realize how hard this thing is to get open?" he snarled rhetorically. "The ice freezes it shut!" Rynn said nothing, but walked on, the grouchy soldier yanking the gate closed behind her. The trek past the stables was the hardest part yet. Sitting inconsiderately on a high hilltop, the castle was swamped in an incredible three feet of snow which Rynn sank into every step of the way. She really hoped she had yet to hit her growth spurt because the snow was up to her naval.
Struggling up the steps she was finally greeted by a welcome sight; just disappearing through a servants side door was the hem of some woman's dress. Running over Rynn grabbed the door just before it closed. Thrusting it open, she came face to face with a very startled servant. The woman's surprised expression swiftly took in her clothes and a scowl settled upon her face.
"May I help you?" asked the woman. Polite though her words were, her stare was harsh and arrogant.
"Please, let me inside ma'am. My toes have gone completely numb!" Rynn exclaimed. When the woman didn't budge she continued. "I am here to see the training master as I would like to enroll as a page." Finally the woman let her in, though if the agitated shuffle of her brown skirts had any meaning what so ever, she was not happy at the arrangement.
"The Lord is not available at the moment, I am sure," she scoffed. "It is very late."
"I understand, ma'am. But I have traveled very far to get here and this part of the land is new to me. I did not know how long it would take to walk from Fairview to here." The woman didn't care the least bit about her reasons or excuses, nor did she seem inclined to offer any assistance. "Is there a place I can sleep for the night? I am afraid I may freeze to death if I wait outside." Rynn had a point, even the woman could see that her clothes were soaked and her face was red with the cold.
"Sleep here," the woman told her, pointing at the ground. "And do not bother the Lord until it is morning." Rynn nodded and thanked her, but she had already turned away, hurrying down the hall and out of sight.
Even beneath her stiff fingers, it was painfully obvious that the hall was far too cold. So, easily ignoring the servant woman's instructions, Rynn continued to walk silently down the hall. Turning left where the woman had gone right, Rynn soon found herself in a hall lined with heavy tapestries of life-consuming embroidery. Just thinking about the years it must've taken the women made Rynn nod to their accomplishment, not to mention the delicately planned artwork of the whole thing. Past that hall she caught quiet voices.
It took a long time and much tired wandering for Rynn to stumble across a warm draft of air. Inching a bit closer she found the embers of a fire. The fireplace, nicely situated in an indented room furnished with studious chairs and tables, called to her like a moth to a flame. Sleepily she lay down before it and in seconds she was asleep, completely unaware of the man sitting at the corner table.
Sir Raoul didn't even bother looking up when he heard a servant come in to stoke the embers. The old man, Rennet, often came by to check on any late-night readers; he was a kind old man, always helpful and looking out for others. Raoul turned another page and jotted a note down on his parchment. Tyra ~ founded as attempted Utopia. From the corner of his eye he saw the servant kneel before the fire. Skimming the page Raoul found Tusaine had actually been created by a rebellious group in Maren called Sak Markku, translated meaning 'The Rebels''. Raoul rolled his eyes. Ancient people had been so original.
At the fire Rennet was certainly taking his time. Glancing up to see if he needed help, Raoul blinked. Rennet wasn't by the fire, rather, a bundled little boy had fallen asleep at the hearth. It looked to be a servant boy, soaked by the snow and shivering with the cold. Deciding to let him be, Raoul picked up his quill once more and resumed his note taking. With the recent hostility between Tyra and Tortall's south farmers he had felt a little history review might be helpful.
XxXxX
Hours later Raoul was yawning as he squinted at yet another scroll. The letters were blurring before his tired eyes when the morning bell shook him from his stupor. Rubbing his eyes and wishing that he'd slept more, Raoul pushed back his chair and hurriedly gathered his things. If he grabbed a quick breakfast Raoul could still have a few hours to nap… As he moved to leave, the sight of the servant boy caught his eye. The little tike would probably get in trouble for sleeping in, and it didn't look like he'd be waking up any time soon. Setting his things back down on the table Raoul walked over and gently shook his shoulder.
The boy jerked beneath his touch, scrambling up, a hand beginning to pull out a dagger. He froze, returning it to his belt at the sight of the noble man. "I just wanted to make sure you were up," Raoul explained gently. "The morning bell rang a few minutes ago." The words didn't spark the panic he'd expected in the servants eyes. Rather, a shocking question fell from his lips.
"Sir, do you know where I could find the training master?" Misreading Raoul's shocked look as scorn, the boy quickly backtracked. "Oh, I'm sorry. It is too early, of course. Um, I'll go later, but do you know when the best time is? I can wait, really sir!" Raoul chuckled at his rushed words.
"No, that's not a problem, son," Raoul told him. "I'm sure he's been up for quite a while. I am wondering, though, why you need to see him? Perhaps I can help you instead."
The boy didn't pay his offer any mind. "No sir, but thank you. I need to ask him if I can become a page." Raoul blinked. The servant was actually a noble? Or perhaps he wasn't quite right in the head. That would explain why it was already winter and the boy wanted to talk to the man.
"What's your name?" he asked. I'm Raoul of Goldenlake."
"Oh, I apologize my lord. I am Rynn of SouthRidge." And on second look, the boy was very feminine. It was, perhaps, simply from the short hair and young, unisex, features of the eleven year old that Raoul had even thought she was a boy in the first place.
"Rynn," he said, picking up his books once more, "I'm headed by his office. If you would like, I will show you the way." With a bow and a "thank you sir!" she followed him closely, her wet boots squeaking on the stone floors.
XxXxX
Lord Wyldon was awake when Rynn was called through the door. Very awake and very displeased. "You didn't think to send a letter ahead, announcing your arrival date or asking to enroll?" he asked her sharply, his thick knuckled hands folded calmly on his desk. It was unnerving.
"I apologize sir," she told him. What he said was true, and it was also unnecessary to add that she hadn't had the slightest idea when she would arrive.
His black eyes stared at her intently, as if scrutinizing her every hair. Rynn was painfully quite aware that it had been a week and a half since her last bath. The weather hadn't permitted any bathing in the steam. "Training began early September. Do you realize the amount of work it will take to catch up - if you can catch up?" and he sounded very doubtful that she could, but she nodded.
"Yes, my lord."
Sir Wyldon looked annoyed at her short responses. Most first years were babbling with excuses. "Why were you late, SouthRidge."
"My fief was attacked by b-bandits late July," she said, swiftly squashing the stutter from her voice. "I remained to help… clean up until late August when I came here, my lord."
"It is a two week trip." He told her shortly, obviously unimpressed by her 'lie'.
"A two week trip by horse, my lord. I walked." Lord Wyldon glared at her stupid lie. Pages were always trying to look tough, but lying to the training master was stepping over the line.
"I highly doubt that you walked that far. That is over a thousand miles." What a ridiculous child. She should at least have the decency to look ashamed when someone knew that she was lying. Instead the girl's fingers started drumming at her side. Lord Wyldon noted with slight curiosity that she had apparently taken to wearing an ax at her side. 'As if she could lift such a thing, let alone wield it' he thought with disdain.
"My Lord," she said, a defensive edge sticking in her tone. "I walked here. All the way here on my own, over a thousand miles and I will swear it before the Goddess herself." She was a dramatic little girl. "SouthRidge is a very poor fief. We are in debt and don't have very many horses. After the attack we had four horses and nine burnt fields. They needed to use the horses for replanting and I needed to come to Corus at the same time, sir. Obviously the good of the fief comes before the good of the noble daughter and I had to walk here. That is why I am late, my Lord."
Reaching inside his pocket, Wyldon dipped his fingers in a small sack of eyebright. "You truly walked nearly the entire length of the Great Road South without a horse or a companion?" he asked her, anticipating the lie. So, it was to his great surprise when she answered "yes, sir" and there was no red glow. An eleven year old walked her way to Corus. Frankly, he was surprised she'd survived. Maybe she could make a good warrior.
"That ax at your hip," he asked suddenly. "Can you use it?" She looked shocked he'd even mention it. She nodded, for once forgetting the 'yes sir.' He doubted it, but most pages couldn't tell a dagger from a sword when they showed up, so it didn't really matter.
"You can train here.' he told her bluntly. "But know that if you cannot catch up, there will be no exceptions to the exams. A failure is a failure no matter how many months you have trained." He paused as the information sank in. "I will assign you a sponsor before dinner tonight, so I advise you spend the day gathering your uniform and putting away your things. A servant will show you to your room and I advise you find where the baths are as well." And on that last scathing remark, he dismissed her from the room.
XxXxX
A boy named Bryan, a third year, offered to be her sponsor and Rynn spent the evening awkwardly seated amongst his friends who didn't even bother to include her in their conversation. But she figured, looking back, that it really didn't matter. She, after all, was intruding on their normalcy. Thankful for the night without work and with a bed, she stripped down to her loincloth and moved into the washroom to get ready for bed.
The scuffed up brass mirror reflected a face she hadn't seen in a long while. Brushing her teeth, she met her dark brown eyes. She still had that scar on her temple, just missing the edge her eyebrow. It seemed even more visible with her recent haircut. The puckered line was too new to lie flat, so it stretched cruelly at the skin around it. It was ugly, but she was with a bunch of boys so who cared. She hoped it wasn't brought up though. That battle was something she'd rather forget.
Her hair was shorter; she'd had a maid chop it off so short it lay completely flat on her head. There weren't even any long pieces reaching from the top of her head to her ears like most of the boys. It wasn't going to move around at all. She was thankful. The long hair she used to have, shoulder length and ashy-brown, had been used against her in the battle.
Washing her face she walked back to the main room and settled into bed. Still very tired she fell asleep two full bells before lights out, not even stirring as they rang. Later, however, that was not the case.
After the midnight bell, in the silent hours before dawn, Rynn rolled over, a pale hand reaching out in the dark, but she had carefully place her axe across the room for just that reason. She tossed and turned, kicking the blankets off the bed. She shoved the pillow up against the headboard. "No, no," she muttered, her hands gripping the bed fiercely. "They're coming!" she called, thrashing in the bed. "Let go! No! Alex! ALEX!" she yelled. She was writhing on the bed, thrashing as if to escape some invisible bonds. "ALEX!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice breaking with anguish. And in the room beside her Corbin jolted up in bed.
Cursing, still bleary eyed from sleep, he stomped out the door barefooted and half-dressed. The noise had come from the new girls room. What the hell was wrong with her! Slamming his fist down on the door he called. "Something wrong? If not, shut up!" He got no response but silence. In a huff he walked back to his room, slammed the door and fell back asleep.
Rynn sat on her bed in silence. The fist on the door had woken her and she realized she'd had the nightmare again. On the road, where she walked until she fell from exhaustion, she hadn't dreamt much. Quite suddenly Rynn was terrified the nightmares would return. They differed every time, as if her mind was picking and choosing the worst scenes of the battle to remind her of. But she didn't want to think about it. Standing up she remade her bed but knew she wouldn't fall asleep again. Instead she lit a candle and opened her clothes drawer. It was the only part of her room that had stuff in it. Inside she had two practice uniforms, two casual or class uniforms and her old clothes and personals. Realizing how sweaty she would get in practice, she didn't get dressed, just washed her face and picked up her axe.
She indeed knew how to use it. The heavy weapon was the most practical in her fief where everyone worked just to get by. Beside the villagers she had plowed the fields and gathered fire wood and cleaned stalls and made meals. But, as a noble, she also got to learn. Her mother had taught her to read. Her father had taught her to ride. And Lucas, the kind man who ran the inn had taught her how to wield the axe. It sickened her, to remember what it felt like to use it for real, against an enemy. Thrusting the blade into flesh was completely different than chopping it into wood. But it had saved her life, and the life of a few others and she knew that as a knight it was what she would have to do.
So Rynn sank into her fighting stance and did what Lucas had called a pattern dance. It was not graceful, as the name would lend one to thinking. Instead it was just a combination of difficult, basic and necessary moves so she could practice the individual actions as well as her ability to switch from one move to another.
The axe had been heavy and awkward when Rynn had first tried to wield it. At five years old even chopping down a tree had been hard. But years passed and her arms strengthened quickly under the heavy weight while her fingers callused and adjusted to the strange stance. So when Rynn switched to her left hand halfway through, she didn't even pause. Panting and sweating, Rynn felt horribly awake yet the sun hadn't yet risen above the horizon. Again she washed her face and body in the washroom and pondered what to do.
Much pacing, a few dozen pushups and many minutes of stretching later Rynn finally heard the waking bell. Yawning she washed yet again, dressed and waited for her sponsor. Bryan knocked on the door just as she reached for the handle to find her own way to the Mess. He seemed surprised when she opened the door so promptly. "G-good morning" he said. She nodded and he seemed to take it for sleepiness and smiled. "Better get used to it, you'll be up this early everyday for the next four years of your life, and I hear after that, it only gets earlier!" She just nodded absently as she followed him to the Mess. It didn't really matter if he thought she had woken up late or not.
Again Rynn ended up sitting amongst a loud group of boys who paid her no attention. Quietly she ate her porridge and listened to playful joking, complaints about homework and random chatter. She hoped she'd make friends here. It'd be a very lonely four years if she didn't.
XxXxX
It was freezing outside in the practice courts, her breath came in short puffs of white that the fast wind whisked away. "Warm up: five laps! GO!" shouted a deep-voiced man who was obviously the trainer. With a start, she obediently followed the other boys around the large court at a fast jog. Snow splashed from her boots up her back and soon she could feel herself going numb again. But it didn't matter. This was where she wanted to be and though her legs were tired by the fourth lap, she pushed along with the other panting boys. They stood straight, though they wanted to put their hands on their hips or knees, and listened as the trainer shouted out directions.
They would start with staff fighting. Rynn hoped it wouldn't be all that different from the axe, because that was all she could use. Following the boy's lead again, she grabbed a staff from the bucket standing next to the trainer. When he noticed she was new he grabbed her wrist. Jerking away from the contact she stared at him, just as startled as he. Settling his expression quickly into a hard look he told her, "That staff's too short." Returning it, annoyed at herself for already making a mistake, she took the one thrust at her. "Rangeferd," he called out another boy. "Work with her."
The boy was tall. "Will of Rangeferd." He introduced himself shortly. The page seemed to know what they were supposed to do, and lead her to the end of the line of pages who were paired up and waiting. "Do you know anything about staff fighting?"
"Uh, not really, sir." He nodded to himself.
"Okay, get in a fighting stance." Rynn did so, hoping it wasn't that different from an axe. Crouching down she held the staff double handedly and close to the base using only the bottom third of the wood as with the axe she had to to balance the weight. Standing with staggered feet, her body was tilted away from him. It was a technique to mimic having a shield, something obviously very hard to do when the axe required two hands for many of the moves. Will frowned.
"Here, copy me." His stance, perfect for the strikes and blocks she was about to learn, was a face-to-face style that spread her hands wide in the center of the wood. Biting her lip, she copied and the basics began. Strike. Block. Strike. Block. She and Will worked steadily, and slowly for the entire lesson, the other boys glanced at her with looks as if to say, 'looser, you can't even wield a staff!', but she ignored them. It didn't really matter if they couldn't remember what it was like when they started. She contented herself with the idea that most of them were in her place only a few months ago.
The staff portion ended with numb soaking wet feet, and sore knuckles. Returning her staff to the bin she trudged with the sweaty boys over to archery.
Now, that was something she could sort of do. At least, she could shoot a long bow okay. And thank goodness, they weren't working on cross bow! With aching fingers she pulled back the bow and shot. It missed the target by inches. The training master wasn't impressed. Again they worked from the basics up and by the end her toes were numb, her left foot soaked because her boot still had a hole in it, and her fingers were red and painful to move. But, at least she had hit the bull's eye eleven times.
That ended the working portion of the day, and Rynn learned, courtesy of Bryan, that they rotated workouts and first years would soon be moving onto swords. She had to catch up fast to make the end of year exams. At least classes weren't hard. She could read, and do math, and knew about the court system a bit. The hard thing was staying focused, because he eyes were drooping shut. Biting her lip every once in a while helped, but at dinner she was dozing off over turkey. She excused herself early, and wandered back up to her room. A bath later she crawled into bed and fell asleep. She'd do her homework in the morning.
Indeed, somewhere between the midnight bell and sunrise she began to toss and turn.
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