Dueljewl: Okay, not sure how good this chapter is. I might have screwed up
royally on the sword fight but if you absoluetly can't stand it I guess you
could scroll past it. I don't know if I got all the sword forms right but
work with me here, use your imagination.
To clarify something, I use some of the terms from a role-play group I'm in. Like SWiT and WiT. They stand for Senior Warder in Training and Warder in Training. I don't know if RJ uses this method for the levels they reach before becoming a full Warder but it works for me and I don't feel like typing out the whole name every single time.
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Rondin stood in the middle of the practice yard, perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet. Surrounded by the Void, he was completly emotionless, a part of the slightly curving blade -- a sabre from his native Saldea -- in his hands. Sweat trickled down his bare chest as the hot sun beat down on all the trainees in the yard. Across from him, Kain, slightly taller than most Cairhienen, stood with a double bladed long sword gripped in his hands. Both swords were blunted for practice, but they would still leave welts and bruises where they struck.
The young men circled each other warily, each striking out occasionally, testing his opponent, feeling out the best move. Kain charged suddenly, the long sword held in front of him at mid chest. At the last moment he brought it up and slashed down, only to have it parried by Rondin, his sabre archeing in a smooth circle followed by a short slash, the blade turned slightly out so only the flat of the sword would hit the skin.
The lithe Cairheinin twisted out of the way just before Rondin's sabre would have struck home. Rondin, counting on the strike, over balanced and fell forwards, stumbling for a few steps. Thus leaving him open for Kain to heft the long sword and strike Rondin's back with the flat of his sword. Rondin's back arched from the sudden impact, the blunted steel hitting his unprotected skin with a loud, meaty smack; he could feel the welt forming between his shoulder blades already. The Void shook around him and threatened to collapse, jarred by the impact.
He spun around, stumbling slightly, to see Kain standing at the guard position, waiting for him to regain his balance. Around the edges of the Void, Rondin felt his anger flare that Kain felt he had to wait for him.
Kain charged once more, slowing as he moved into The Falcon Swoops, his blade moving quickly in a series of vertical slashes; as soon as one swoop was completed, his blade flashed and changed directions, never stopping it's endless motion. The grip on Rondin's sabre tightened, and he decided to take advantage of his speed and unorthodox style, flowing into The Cat Dances on the Wall.
Kain's eyes widened, not expecting the quick series of jabs, slashes, and parries, each succeding the other and moving too quickly to do anything but block. The two moved in a dance all their own, lost in the rythym of their swords crashing together, the sound of metal on metal ringing across the yard while Warders stood by to supervise; as long as their students followed the guidelines set down by the Warders, why not let them experience what it would be like in real battle, with a real sword weighing down their arms.
Kain lifted his long sword over his head and thrust straight down with the flat of his sword, caught inches from Rondin's shoulder by the curving blade of his sabre. Both young men tried to force their blades away from each other, with neither moving an inch.
"That do be enough." Gaidan Raien's voice echoed distantly in the Void, alerting Rondin to the outside world. "For now at least." He added.
Rondin and Kain slackened their stance, dropping the swords away from each other. As the Gaidan came closer they straightened, arms stiff and backs straight.
"Your improving, that do be true." the Gaidan said, nodding his head as he spoke, his thick Illianer accent and fast speach making what he said hard to understand. He turned to Kain, a frown forming on his face.
"There no be a reason to charge your opponent with every attack, boy. Learn the patience it takes to be a true Gaidan and no some wool-headed whelp with a sharp peice of metal he do be swingin' 'round."
Kain stiffened at the rebuke, his pride being almost as touchy as most Saldean's Rondin knew. Gaidan Raien saw the motion and a part of his face twitched in what might have been a smile, if it had been anyone else.
"And you, Rondin, don't be thinking you didn't make no mistakes either. Your balance do be needing work, that be true."
He nodded, as if to himself, and dismissed the trainees with a wave of his hand. Rondin quickly went to a more relaxed version of the guard stance -- standing staight, his sabre held in front of him at mid chest -- and swung the sabre around to his side in a quarter circle, sheathing it when it reached his side in one smooth motion. Kain performed a similar sheathing techinique, his somewhat more straight lined and stiff. Fists went to chest in a salute to the departing back of the Gaidan.
Kain scowled at Gaidan Raien as he left, his narrow face twisting with anger.
"Wool-headed whelp? Did you hear him? I'm surrounded by bloody fools."
Rondin chuckled to himself, ignoring the Cairheinin's glare, currently focusing on him.
"You nobles'. Someone critizes what you do and suddenly Gaidan's are fools for you to scowl and curse at."
"And what would you know?" he snapped, "You're just a soldier's brat."
"You've just proven my point now." Rondin replied through clenched teeth. "I've seen enough of you lordlings to get the general picture. Strutting around like you're better than those who surround you -- Light! Even Gaidan's! -- and not knowing a day's labor 'till you've received your first blister on hands whose most strenuos job was to lift a cup of wine."
Kain's face redened and he shifted slightly, hardly notticable if someone had not been looking for it. He stood tensed, ready to draw his long sword in a heartbeat. Rondin's hand strayed to the hilt of his sabre; he wouldn't attack first, but he wouldn't be left at unawares either.
A heavy pressure was felt on Rondin's shoulder and the deep rumble of Tyrel, a fellow trainee and borderlander from Sheinar, sounded from over Rondin's shoulder.
"Rondin, Kain." he greeted, nodding his head in each of their directions. "Peace favor your swords."
Rondin murmered a similer welcome, followed by a muttered "Grace favour you." from Kain. Appaerantly the smaller Cairheinen was in no mood to provoke the large, heavily musceled Senior Warder in Training. Kain mumbled something unintelligable, face red with anger, and stocked off, back stiff and movements slightly jerky from a combination of embarressment and rage.
A rumbling laugh from deep in the older man's throat joined Rondin's own quiet laughter as they watched him go.
"Peace! You should not provoke him so, he looked almost ready to explode this time."
"Ah, but he makes it so easy. As soon as it stops being fun, I'll stop making fun of 'his lordship'." Rondin bent a in mock bow full of flurishes and hand sweeps. Tyrel's low, resonant laughter doubled, the surrounding trainees roaring with laughter at Rondin's impersonation.
He straightened, grining broadly, when a small shape hurtled into his stomach, momentarily knocking the wind from him. Ashin backed up a few steps, his eyes drifting upwards till they met Rondin's face. At the raised eyebrows his face burned scarlet, set off more so by his light, blondish- white hair. The lad was no more than eleven and small for his age at that -- even by Cairhienin standards -- earning him the nickname Runt; more knew him by this than his true name.
"Gai-Gaidan Camrion wa-wants to s-see you." he stammered, the blush increasing due to the chuckles of several of the SWiT's. He shifted nervously, shrugging his shoulders uneasily, twisting the bow made for little boys he had in his hands.
"Watch out Rondin, Gaidan Camrion's been out to get you since the day you came here."
"Is this the fifth time this seven-day, or was it the ninth?"
"Have fun mucking stables."
"And don't forget all the practice equipment he's gonna have you cleaning."
Rondin ignored the jeering shouts, his own shoulders shifting nervously, the grin fading from his face. It was considered a miracle if he was not sent to the Gaidan Camrion more than three times in a seven-day, but as of late, Camrion had been on his back more than usual. He winced, thinking of all the stables he had mucked and swords he had polished, all due to offenses the grizzled old Warder had not seen fit to explain.
"Do you know where he is Runt?"
The little boy nodded his head vigorously, pointing across the yard with a small hand. "He's by the targets, helping new recruits with their bows." His voice changed to that of mild disgust. "They don't even know how to notch the arrows properly. I'll be suprised if they manage shoot each other before hitting their own feet."
Rondin's eyes widened in surprise at Runt's comment before his face split into another grin. Runt had been at the Tower for almost a year and just as unskilled as most young boys were when they came. He had picked up the skills quick enough with the help of the older WiT's, including Rondin.
"Wish me luck." Rondin said, mussing Runts' hair as he went passed. The little boy glared, quickly straightening the white-blonde hair.
"Luck." he muttered, fiddling with the small bow he had forgot to put down in his hurry.
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Gaidan Camrion's eyes narrowed as yet another arrow went sailing into the dirt five feet in front of the target. This new batch of recruits were going to need more work than he had thought. If the decision had been up to him none of the woolheaded country oafs or high and mighty lordlings brought before him would have been accepted.
But, as the decision was not up to him, they had all been allowed to stay and train with the Warders; any young man under 18 was allowed to train, so long as he was eager to learn, willing to work, and had not served with a previous army of any kind.
Camrion grunted to himself, deftly moving out of the way just before an arrow went wizzing past his ear; the same spot his head had been moments earlier.
"Enough," he barked, "I've seen enough. You bloody goat-kissing fools couldn't hit the targets if they were two inches from your face. Blood and ashes, I've seen better from blind cripples. Away with you all, finish settling in and report to the dining hall. Maybe with some food in you you'll be able to concentrate."
The recruits saluted, if a bit hesitantly and unpracticed, with fist to chest. He turned to follow after them when Rondin appeared before him. The young man bowed in the Saldean fashion -- leg bent forward, bowed at the waist, and handling the curving blade at his side with one hand. Camrion snorted derisavely, eyeing the trainee as he straightened.
His back was rigidly stiff, one hand resting on the hilt of his sabre. Thick black hair spilled into tilted brown eyes, lit with the faint light of mischeif, and down half his neck. The permanent beginning of a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. He held himself well, if not quite the wolflike grace the Gaidan were known for, and the sabre at his hip seemed a part of him.
"You would have made it faster if you ran." Camrion said nonchalantly, moving off and gesturing for Rondin to follow. Camrion's mouth twitched as he saw the trainee stiffen more, if possible, and follow behind and to the side.
"If I may be so bold as to ask Gaidan?"
"You're going to ask even if I say no so speak up lad and spit it out."
"Runt --"
"Ashin." Camrion cut in, emphasizing the boys true name.
"-- Ashin," Rondin amended, "never explained why you wanted to see me." Rondin said the last in a way that turned it into an unasked question.
"Of course he didn't. He told you I wanted to see you, yes?" He nodded to himself as Rondin murmered agreement, continuing. "That was all the boy was told."
"But Gaidan --"
"Do you see those two, the ones sparing with wooden practice swords?" Camrion's thick fingered hand pointed to a group surrounding two lads practicing a few feet from them. "Look at the one farthest from you. You see how he's so sure of himself, trusting to luck and what little skill he has to help him? That will get him and whoever chooses to bond him killed one day, if he is not turned out of the Tower first."
"I don't see what this has to do with me, Gaidan Camrion." Rondin replied, his voice carrying currents of confusion and annoyance.
"Just this: You're too cocky and sure of yourself for your own good and the Sister you will one day be bound to protect." He answered bluntly. "In a way, you remind me of myself when I first came to the Tower. Too thick- skulled to see the difference between skill and my own arrogance. It's still all a game to you."
Rondin's face was tinged red with anger; after all, his pride had been wounded, and Saldean pride was the easiest to wound.
"I would never endanger a Sister of the White Tower or a fellow Gaidan." Rondin snapped angrily, too caught in his own stubborness to bother with the proper respect due a Warder.
Camrion shook his head somewhat sadly, sighing heavily. "You have missed my point boy." Rondin's face darkened at being called boy, not going unnoticed by Camrion. Camrion's mouth twitched and a small, grim smile crossed his face. "Yes boy. Until you prove otherwise, you are still a boy to me. Pity too, as the Head Warder feels that soon you will be deserving a promotion of sorts to a SWiT."
Camrion left him there, moving on as the boy he had pointed out earlier slumped to the ground from a crack to the head. It was not that he hated Rondin -- Light knew he would probably never have another trainee as adept to the sword and bow as he -- but he was too sure of himself for his own good.
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Rondin stood were Gaidan Camrion had left him, a sense of elation battling with anger. If he was to be raised to a Senior Warder in Training, it wouldn't be long before he became a Warder. But Camrion's words stung him still.
'Until you prove otherwise, you are still a boy to me.'
"I'll show you whose a boy." he muttered to himself, stalking off angrily to the Warder barracks.
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Okay, that might have dragged on at the end but I needed to add some more characters to give me something to work with. Hope it wasn't too bad. Plz R&R, tell me what you think. Creative critisism welcome.
To clarify something, I use some of the terms from a role-play group I'm in. Like SWiT and WiT. They stand for Senior Warder in Training and Warder in Training. I don't know if RJ uses this method for the levels they reach before becoming a full Warder but it works for me and I don't feel like typing out the whole name every single time.
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~
Rondin stood in the middle of the practice yard, perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet. Surrounded by the Void, he was completly emotionless, a part of the slightly curving blade -- a sabre from his native Saldea -- in his hands. Sweat trickled down his bare chest as the hot sun beat down on all the trainees in the yard. Across from him, Kain, slightly taller than most Cairhienen, stood with a double bladed long sword gripped in his hands. Both swords were blunted for practice, but they would still leave welts and bruises where they struck.
The young men circled each other warily, each striking out occasionally, testing his opponent, feeling out the best move. Kain charged suddenly, the long sword held in front of him at mid chest. At the last moment he brought it up and slashed down, only to have it parried by Rondin, his sabre archeing in a smooth circle followed by a short slash, the blade turned slightly out so only the flat of the sword would hit the skin.
The lithe Cairheinin twisted out of the way just before Rondin's sabre would have struck home. Rondin, counting on the strike, over balanced and fell forwards, stumbling for a few steps. Thus leaving him open for Kain to heft the long sword and strike Rondin's back with the flat of his sword. Rondin's back arched from the sudden impact, the blunted steel hitting his unprotected skin with a loud, meaty smack; he could feel the welt forming between his shoulder blades already. The Void shook around him and threatened to collapse, jarred by the impact.
He spun around, stumbling slightly, to see Kain standing at the guard position, waiting for him to regain his balance. Around the edges of the Void, Rondin felt his anger flare that Kain felt he had to wait for him.
Kain charged once more, slowing as he moved into The Falcon Swoops, his blade moving quickly in a series of vertical slashes; as soon as one swoop was completed, his blade flashed and changed directions, never stopping it's endless motion. The grip on Rondin's sabre tightened, and he decided to take advantage of his speed and unorthodox style, flowing into The Cat Dances on the Wall.
Kain's eyes widened, not expecting the quick series of jabs, slashes, and parries, each succeding the other and moving too quickly to do anything but block. The two moved in a dance all their own, lost in the rythym of their swords crashing together, the sound of metal on metal ringing across the yard while Warders stood by to supervise; as long as their students followed the guidelines set down by the Warders, why not let them experience what it would be like in real battle, with a real sword weighing down their arms.
Kain lifted his long sword over his head and thrust straight down with the flat of his sword, caught inches from Rondin's shoulder by the curving blade of his sabre. Both young men tried to force their blades away from each other, with neither moving an inch.
"That do be enough." Gaidan Raien's voice echoed distantly in the Void, alerting Rondin to the outside world. "For now at least." He added.
Rondin and Kain slackened their stance, dropping the swords away from each other. As the Gaidan came closer they straightened, arms stiff and backs straight.
"Your improving, that do be true." the Gaidan said, nodding his head as he spoke, his thick Illianer accent and fast speach making what he said hard to understand. He turned to Kain, a frown forming on his face.
"There no be a reason to charge your opponent with every attack, boy. Learn the patience it takes to be a true Gaidan and no some wool-headed whelp with a sharp peice of metal he do be swingin' 'round."
Kain stiffened at the rebuke, his pride being almost as touchy as most Saldean's Rondin knew. Gaidan Raien saw the motion and a part of his face twitched in what might have been a smile, if it had been anyone else.
"And you, Rondin, don't be thinking you didn't make no mistakes either. Your balance do be needing work, that be true."
He nodded, as if to himself, and dismissed the trainees with a wave of his hand. Rondin quickly went to a more relaxed version of the guard stance -- standing staight, his sabre held in front of him at mid chest -- and swung the sabre around to his side in a quarter circle, sheathing it when it reached his side in one smooth motion. Kain performed a similar sheathing techinique, his somewhat more straight lined and stiff. Fists went to chest in a salute to the departing back of the Gaidan.
Kain scowled at Gaidan Raien as he left, his narrow face twisting with anger.
"Wool-headed whelp? Did you hear him? I'm surrounded by bloody fools."
Rondin chuckled to himself, ignoring the Cairheinin's glare, currently focusing on him.
"You nobles'. Someone critizes what you do and suddenly Gaidan's are fools for you to scowl and curse at."
"And what would you know?" he snapped, "You're just a soldier's brat."
"You've just proven my point now." Rondin replied through clenched teeth. "I've seen enough of you lordlings to get the general picture. Strutting around like you're better than those who surround you -- Light! Even Gaidan's! -- and not knowing a day's labor 'till you've received your first blister on hands whose most strenuos job was to lift a cup of wine."
Kain's face redened and he shifted slightly, hardly notticable if someone had not been looking for it. He stood tensed, ready to draw his long sword in a heartbeat. Rondin's hand strayed to the hilt of his sabre; he wouldn't attack first, but he wouldn't be left at unawares either.
A heavy pressure was felt on Rondin's shoulder and the deep rumble of Tyrel, a fellow trainee and borderlander from Sheinar, sounded from over Rondin's shoulder.
"Rondin, Kain." he greeted, nodding his head in each of their directions. "Peace favor your swords."
Rondin murmered a similer welcome, followed by a muttered "Grace favour you." from Kain. Appaerantly the smaller Cairheinen was in no mood to provoke the large, heavily musceled Senior Warder in Training. Kain mumbled something unintelligable, face red with anger, and stocked off, back stiff and movements slightly jerky from a combination of embarressment and rage.
A rumbling laugh from deep in the older man's throat joined Rondin's own quiet laughter as they watched him go.
"Peace! You should not provoke him so, he looked almost ready to explode this time."
"Ah, but he makes it so easy. As soon as it stops being fun, I'll stop making fun of 'his lordship'." Rondin bent a in mock bow full of flurishes and hand sweeps. Tyrel's low, resonant laughter doubled, the surrounding trainees roaring with laughter at Rondin's impersonation.
He straightened, grining broadly, when a small shape hurtled into his stomach, momentarily knocking the wind from him. Ashin backed up a few steps, his eyes drifting upwards till they met Rondin's face. At the raised eyebrows his face burned scarlet, set off more so by his light, blondish- white hair. The lad was no more than eleven and small for his age at that -- even by Cairhienin standards -- earning him the nickname Runt; more knew him by this than his true name.
"Gai-Gaidan Camrion wa-wants to s-see you." he stammered, the blush increasing due to the chuckles of several of the SWiT's. He shifted nervously, shrugging his shoulders uneasily, twisting the bow made for little boys he had in his hands.
"Watch out Rondin, Gaidan Camrion's been out to get you since the day you came here."
"Is this the fifth time this seven-day, or was it the ninth?"
"Have fun mucking stables."
"And don't forget all the practice equipment he's gonna have you cleaning."
Rondin ignored the jeering shouts, his own shoulders shifting nervously, the grin fading from his face. It was considered a miracle if he was not sent to the Gaidan Camrion more than three times in a seven-day, but as of late, Camrion had been on his back more than usual. He winced, thinking of all the stables he had mucked and swords he had polished, all due to offenses the grizzled old Warder had not seen fit to explain.
"Do you know where he is Runt?"
The little boy nodded his head vigorously, pointing across the yard with a small hand. "He's by the targets, helping new recruits with their bows." His voice changed to that of mild disgust. "They don't even know how to notch the arrows properly. I'll be suprised if they manage shoot each other before hitting their own feet."
Rondin's eyes widened in surprise at Runt's comment before his face split into another grin. Runt had been at the Tower for almost a year and just as unskilled as most young boys were when they came. He had picked up the skills quick enough with the help of the older WiT's, including Rondin.
"Wish me luck." Rondin said, mussing Runts' hair as he went passed. The little boy glared, quickly straightening the white-blonde hair.
"Luck." he muttered, fiddling with the small bow he had forgot to put down in his hurry.
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Gaidan Camrion's eyes narrowed as yet another arrow went sailing into the dirt five feet in front of the target. This new batch of recruits were going to need more work than he had thought. If the decision had been up to him none of the woolheaded country oafs or high and mighty lordlings brought before him would have been accepted.
But, as the decision was not up to him, they had all been allowed to stay and train with the Warders; any young man under 18 was allowed to train, so long as he was eager to learn, willing to work, and had not served with a previous army of any kind.
Camrion grunted to himself, deftly moving out of the way just before an arrow went wizzing past his ear; the same spot his head had been moments earlier.
"Enough," he barked, "I've seen enough. You bloody goat-kissing fools couldn't hit the targets if they were two inches from your face. Blood and ashes, I've seen better from blind cripples. Away with you all, finish settling in and report to the dining hall. Maybe with some food in you you'll be able to concentrate."
The recruits saluted, if a bit hesitantly and unpracticed, with fist to chest. He turned to follow after them when Rondin appeared before him. The young man bowed in the Saldean fashion -- leg bent forward, bowed at the waist, and handling the curving blade at his side with one hand. Camrion snorted derisavely, eyeing the trainee as he straightened.
His back was rigidly stiff, one hand resting on the hilt of his sabre. Thick black hair spilled into tilted brown eyes, lit with the faint light of mischeif, and down half his neck. The permanent beginning of a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. He held himself well, if not quite the wolflike grace the Gaidan were known for, and the sabre at his hip seemed a part of him.
"You would have made it faster if you ran." Camrion said nonchalantly, moving off and gesturing for Rondin to follow. Camrion's mouth twitched as he saw the trainee stiffen more, if possible, and follow behind and to the side.
"If I may be so bold as to ask Gaidan?"
"You're going to ask even if I say no so speak up lad and spit it out."
"Runt --"
"Ashin." Camrion cut in, emphasizing the boys true name.
"-- Ashin," Rondin amended, "never explained why you wanted to see me." Rondin said the last in a way that turned it into an unasked question.
"Of course he didn't. He told you I wanted to see you, yes?" He nodded to himself as Rondin murmered agreement, continuing. "That was all the boy was told."
"But Gaidan --"
"Do you see those two, the ones sparing with wooden practice swords?" Camrion's thick fingered hand pointed to a group surrounding two lads practicing a few feet from them. "Look at the one farthest from you. You see how he's so sure of himself, trusting to luck and what little skill he has to help him? That will get him and whoever chooses to bond him killed one day, if he is not turned out of the Tower first."
"I don't see what this has to do with me, Gaidan Camrion." Rondin replied, his voice carrying currents of confusion and annoyance.
"Just this: You're too cocky and sure of yourself for your own good and the Sister you will one day be bound to protect." He answered bluntly. "In a way, you remind me of myself when I first came to the Tower. Too thick- skulled to see the difference between skill and my own arrogance. It's still all a game to you."
Rondin's face was tinged red with anger; after all, his pride had been wounded, and Saldean pride was the easiest to wound.
"I would never endanger a Sister of the White Tower or a fellow Gaidan." Rondin snapped angrily, too caught in his own stubborness to bother with the proper respect due a Warder.
Camrion shook his head somewhat sadly, sighing heavily. "You have missed my point boy." Rondin's face darkened at being called boy, not going unnoticed by Camrion. Camrion's mouth twitched and a small, grim smile crossed his face. "Yes boy. Until you prove otherwise, you are still a boy to me. Pity too, as the Head Warder feels that soon you will be deserving a promotion of sorts to a SWiT."
Camrion left him there, moving on as the boy he had pointed out earlier slumped to the ground from a crack to the head. It was not that he hated Rondin -- Light knew he would probably never have another trainee as adept to the sword and bow as he -- but he was too sure of himself for his own good.
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Rondin stood were Gaidan Camrion had left him, a sense of elation battling with anger. If he was to be raised to a Senior Warder in Training, it wouldn't be long before he became a Warder. But Camrion's words stung him still.
'Until you prove otherwise, you are still a boy to me.'
"I'll show you whose a boy." he muttered to himself, stalking off angrily to the Warder barracks.
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Okay, that might have dragged on at the end but I needed to add some more characters to give me something to work with. Hope it wasn't too bad. Plz R&R, tell me what you think. Creative critisism welcome.