Strider returned to the House in the late afternoon to find Blaze unsaddled and grazing alongside Timber. New bags of supplies were piled on the front porch, and the smell of fresh coffee wafting from the house urged Strider to dismount and untack her horse quickly. She rubbed Whiplash down and held his snout between her two hands as she stared into his eyes.
"Behave," she said to her horse before turning him loose in the paddock. He gave a defiant little shake of his head before trotting off to greet Blaze. Whiplash tended to pick on other horses, but Strider had a feeling he would meet his match in Blaze if he bothered her.
Inside Strider found Fell and Gilan sipping at second cups of coffee. A large wrapped parcel lay in the center of the table between them. They looked up and smiled greetings and Fell poured Strider a cup of coffee from the near empty pot and set it in front of her as she joined them at the table.
"How did it go?" Fell asked.
"Shh," Strider said. "Let me enjoy this." Fell rolled his eyes as Strider took a deep breath over her cup before taking the first sip. She sighed, her shoulders lowering and head drooping as though she were deflating in relief.
"Long day?" Gilan guessed.
"Short day, actually," Strider said. "All of it spent being poked and prodded by a healer."
Gilan noticed Strider's hand was still bandaged, although he thought it was possible there was less gauze than the last time he'd seen it wrapped. "How is your hand?"
"It's healing, slowly but surely," Strider said. She neglected to add that there was no way it would be fully healed before they set out for the mountains. They'd likely leave the day after Fell and Halt set off, if not on the very same. They were waiting on one more set of maps from the castle cartographer, and then they would be ready.
"I actually had an idea," Fell said, "about your hand, and I picked something up for you." He gestured to the parcel on the table. "Open it."
Strider frowned at Fell and reluctantly put down her cup before pulling the parcel to her. Whatever it was had been wrapped in cloth several times over, with the outer layers made of simple wool. Gilan was just as curious as Strider about the mysterious item, but as Strider reached a layer of oiled cloth Gilan realized it was a sword. The hilt was wrapped in a strip of leather to match the scabbard, and the crosspiece was simple and bare of any ornamentation. Strider held the scabbard and drew the short out a few inches, revealing a silver blade with a bluish tinge to it.
Strider sheathed it and looked at Fell, feelings of surprise and something like suspicion battling in her eyes. "A sword?"
Gilan was just as surprised as Strider, but Fell only shrugged it off. "I thought Crowley might be right. You need two hands if you fight with your usual knives, but if you use a sword you really only need one hand."
"Wielding a sword is very different from wielding knives," Gilan pointed out. "It takes an incredible amount of time to learn how to wield a sword."
"Maybe you could help her learn," Fell said. "It took Strider a long time to get the hang of using her knives, but she's great with them now."
"A long time to get the hang of the knives?" Strider's brows shot skyward as she stared at Fell.
"I didn't say that you were a slow learner," Fell said quickly. "But it takes time to learn how to use a new weapon. You remember how often we practiced before you realized you had two hands. You were always hacking away with one and barely using the other."
"Maybe I would have learned quicker if I'd had a better teacher," Strider said. "How about it, Gilan, care to see if you're a better teacher than Fell?"
Gilan glanced down at his empty cup and decided it couldn't hurt. "Sure, it's not a competition, but if you really want to learn I could show you some things," Gilan said. "But like Fell said, it does take some time to master a new weapon. Don't be disappointed if this doesn't come naturally either."
Strider finished off the last of her own coffee and grabbed the sword before gesturing for Gilan to lead the way. "If I turn out to be a terrible student, I won't ever ask you again."
"Alright," Gilan said. He was a little surprised at Strider's interest in the sword. She hadn't looked very excited when she'd unwrapped the weapon, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk on her face as she followed Gilan out onto the verandah, where they took their cloaks off and left them on the porch. Strider had unsheathed her sword and left the scabbard beside her cloak before walking out onto the sandy area they used for training. Fell followed them out and leaned against a post to watch them work as he nursed the last of his own coffee.
"The first thing is your stance," Gilan began. He showed Strider how to stand and how to hold the sword first, giving her pointers on the most common mistakes budding swordsmen made. He stepped back and stood across from her a reasonable distance away. "Alright, now take a swing at me."
Strider swung her sword in a halfhearted arc that Gilan blocked easily. The impact of their swords sent a jarring pain rattling up her arm, and she listened carefully as Gilan explained how he had blocked the attack. He showed her the change in his grip, then demonstrated a few different strokes she could use to engage an enemy before gesturing for her to try again. They practiced a series of strokes and blocks until Strider felt as though she had the hang of them. She gestured at Gilan vaguely with the point of her sword.
"I think I've got the hang of it," she said. "Let's try a quick bout."
"Are you sure you're ready?" Gilan asked. Most of Strider's strokes were uncertain hacking motions of the blade which had little force or confidence behind them. Her blocks were delayed and haphazard attempts to defend herself at best. Gilan knew Strider was accustomed to fighting in an entirely different manner, and it would take time before she would feel comfortable with the sword.
"I'm sure," Strider said. "I think I understand how this works."
"Alright, then," Gilan said. "Try and kill me."
Strider smiled and was still smiling when she lunged forward and took a swipe at Gilan's head. He blocked it and the next few strokes easily, parrying and deflecting with impeccable form. A frown crossed his face as Strider stepped back again, adjusted her grip on the sword in a way Gilan had never shown her and shot forward once more, the tip of her sword moving fast as a snake. Her strokes were growing in speed and confidence, and before long Gilan found himself sweating as he blocked Strider's blade once again.
"Teach me next, Gilan," Fell shouted from the porch. He was grinning as he watched his Deputy spar with Gilan, noticing how quickly she seemed to be picking it up. Then Strider launched into a series of moves Gilan had never shown her and Fell suddenly realized Strider had hustled them both. She rained blow after blow down on Gilan's guard and even managed to drive him back a pace or two before they broke apart, both panting for air.
"You already know how to use a sword," Gilan said as he too realized that Strider had been toying with them.
"It's been a while," Strider said as she tightened and loosened her grip on her sword. Like Gilan, she was flushed and sweaty from the exercise, but she was only getting started. She lowered the blade and let the point hover just above the dirt. "But I think it's all coming back to me."
The Ranger stared at Strider with renewed interest. He'd thought he would be working with a beginner, but Strider was anything but. Gilan had to know just how good Strider was, and he gestured at her to begin. "Again," he said.
Strider obliged immediately, swinging over and underhand cuts at Gilan. Her moves were calculated and measured, and Gilan found himself once more working to keep his up his defense. He was surprised by the way Strider fought, the way she controlled the sword with delicate movements from her fingertips and wrists. He saw an opening and quickly switched from the defensive to the offensive and found Strider's blocks to be nearly as effective as her attacks. She blocked with quick movements that sent the point of her blade flicking out to meet Gilan's own. Her moves were smooth and sure, and incredibly familiar to Gilan.
Strider certainly had talent, but what she lacked was practice and stamina. Gilan wore her down quickly and with a swift circular motion sent her sword spinning out of her hand and into the dirt. He lowered his own blade quickly, his eyes never leaving Strider's to be sure she knew it was over. She nodded and pulled her sword from the dirt, and Gilan sheathed his own blade and followed her to the verandah where Fell was waiting for them.
"How long have you known how to use a sword?" Fell asked as Strider settled down on the verandah. She was out of breath and exhausted, and while she'd certainly given Gilan more of a match than he'd expected the Ranger wasn't as winded as her. She stretched out and leaned back to rest on her elbows. Gilan sat with his back against the House and stretched his legs out in front of him.
"A long time," Strider said.
Fell set his empty cup on the railing and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why did you ever want to learn how to use knives if you already knew how to use a sword?"
"I didn't want to draw attention when I joined the Shadows, I just wanted to blend in. What do you think would've happened to me if I'd shown up and known how to do that with a sword?"
Fell opened his mouth to reply then thought better of it and closed it instead. When she'd joined, she'd presented herself as a scrawny boy who'd fled a farm and a life of servitude. Strider was right, the Shadows would have been incredibly suspicious if she'd used a sword with that kind of skill. They'd have known right off the bat she hadn't come from some farm, and she was far too young at the time to have served in any militia for an extended period of time. They'd have likely imprisoned Strider and ransomed her off to the highest bidder. Still, Fell felt a now familiar stab of betrayal as he realized this was yet another thing Strider had neglected to share with him about her past.
"I'm more interested in who taught you," Gilan said. "Where did you learn to fight like that?" The Ranger was still processing how Strider had fought, the way she held the sword and flicked the point of the blade in and out of place as needed. He'd never met someone who fought with a style so similar to his own.
"My family taught me," Strider said. "I could swing a sword almost before I could walk. I didn't realize until a lot later that other families gave their kids toys to play with instead of swords."
Gilan had been able to disarm Strider with relative ease, but he'd seen talent in the way she wielded the sword. Although she had potential Strider was certainly ill conditioned and out of practice. Gilan only knew a handful or so of people who could beat him in fight, but he thought that at Strider's best she might be among them. Gilan wasn't sure whether or not he bought that Strider's family had passed down such knowledge and skill.
"What was your family's name again?" Gilan asked.
"Crewe," Strider said. Gilan didn't recognize the name, and he certainly didn't associate it with any renowned swordsmen. He supposed it was possible he may have simply never heard of him since Rockfall was essentially a far-flung corner of the realm.
"Who were you taught by? I've seen how Battleschool knights fight, and they don't fight like you." Fell asked, as if he knew who all the skillful fighters in Araluen. Fell had grown up in a different fief and hardly knew of his own legendary warriors. Of course, he hadn't grown up in a kingdom half as organized as Araluen.
"I was taught by a man named MacNeil," Gilan said.
Fell launched into a series of questions about Gilan's training, and Strider rose and stretched before heading inside. The soreness that had settled in after she'd sat down was rapidly morphing into an uncomfortable stiffness, and she wanted nothing more than to wash away the day's grit and crawl into bed. She thought she'd wash up and change, then oil the sword and help Fell with any last-minute preparations before his departure.
The sun had begun to sink below the horizon, leaving Strider's room in shades of grey and black. She slipped inside and was halfway to the wash basin before her eyes adjusted and she realized she wasn't alone. She blinked a few times and found herself looking at a woman in a stained smock who stood at least half a head taller than her.
"Uh, hello," Strider said to the stranger. She couldn't see the woman's face, and for a moment Strider thought they may know each other. Then the woman stepped around her and what little light there was coming in from the window glinted off a long and slender blade in her hand. Strider took an involuntary step back as the woman moved to stand between her and the door.
"Finally," the woman said.
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