Amáne of Teravinea - The Chosen One (The Teravinea Series Book 1) Page 13

  “Almost,” I whispered.

  The Healer insisted I take a hot soak. She put a large amount of pungent herbs into the tub — the steam whirled enticingly around the bathing room. I didn’t need to be coaxed into one of my favorite pastimes as I sunk down into the comfortable heat. The dried blood and my fears dissolved away.

  The treatments continued throughout the night. The next morning found me feeling surprisingly well. My leg was the color of the plums in the fruit market, but I was able to stand on it. And aside from some soreness and a noticeable limp, I could walk fine.

  I wanted to start my practice again as it had been a couple days since I’d done any serious sword work. The Healer ordered me to take it easy and kept a sharp eye on me for any symptoms of depression, headache, fever or acute pain — which, thankfully, never came. She did allow me to work a short period of time with a spear on the pell.

  I started to think I might prefer the spear as my weapon of choice. Measuring at almost six feet, the longer reach would keep me at a safer distance from danger than a sword. It would take less power to thrust at someone rather than strike with the sword. I had the extra speed as well, which is a great benefit with that style of weapon. It was easy for me to execute a quick backwards retreat, which would give me the distance needed to thrust.

  The rest of the afternoon and evening I spent studying the maps and castle floorplans with Eshshah.

  The following day, Dorjan rode in to assist in my training. He gave me a strong fatherly hug and then pulled away, looked into my eyes and said, “So you talked the Healer into letting you take flight, and then you convinced Eshshah to let you stay alone in the cove? I believe with your powers of persuasion, you’ll make a fine negotiator.” He had a deep rumble for a laugh — almost like Eshshah’s. “And if your negotiations aren’t successful, you can just lop off your opponent’s head, like I heard you did with that monster of a dog. Well done, Amáne.” His laughter echoed off of the walls. It was contagious. He soon had me laughing with him.

  “And it looks like everyone seems to know everything I do around here. Is there no privacy?” I knew the answer to that.

  We retreated to the library where we pulled out the castle maps again and began pouring over them. Dorjan placed his finger on a spot just up a mouth of a river from the ocean side of the fortress — again pointing to the location of the Castle Outpost.

  “I hear you’re familiar with the Dorsal Outpost. Many of our dragon caves and outposts have similar layouts. We never knew where we’d be stationed. To have all the locations similar helped us adapt more readily. Although each had their individual styles, it was easy to settle in, no matter which outpost we were assigned. Some were larger than others, the Castle Outpost being the largest, could house quite a few dragons and their riders.”

  He went on to explain the Castle Outpost was particularly extravagant. “Every rider posted there would buy or create a work of art or some useful object, trying to outdo the rider preceding him ... or her. It was a friendly competition.

  “I hope some day you’ll have the time to fully appreciate it. Maybe not in this upcoming visit, but sometime in the future.”

  Afterwards, we put aside the maps and floorplans, then all three of them worked with me in my fighting practice. Dorjan lunged, feinted and parried as he added verbal lessons. “A fighter is always in motion and never at rest. At no time should you remain fixed, Amáne — that’s inviting injury. Training is a continual, never-ending process — a path, not a destination.”

  I absorbed these lessons as well as the physical training they offered. Thus far I had trained only in one-on-one combat. The time had come to start working with multiple opponents. We began with three against one — the one being me. When the three of them rushed me, my goal was to separate them which allowed me to deal with only one at a time. By stepping to the side, I created a situation where the other two could not get to me without going through the one I had singled out. I could then dispatch the one before I faced the other two. If an opponent got too close, they taught me to use my spear to check him. Or I could step in deep, put the pole behind his leg and use it as a lever to trip him.

  “We’re only practicing now,” the Healer reminded me, “trying to work on your form, techniques and strength, but in a serious fight, there is no fair play, Amáne. Go for the crotch, stab the foot, use the quillon — the hook at the base of the spearhead — if your spear has one, to hook and drag your opponent by the leg, by the neck, whatever it takes.”

  After the midday meal, Gallen worked with Eshshah and me on our mounts. We practiced our standard foreleg mounts, but with more speed. After dark, Gallen showed us some aerial dismounts. Eshshah hovered several feet above the ground while I lowered myself to her foreleg, and then jumped to the earth, rolling out of the fall and to my feet. Another technique was to secure a rope from the saddle. As Eshshah hovered further off the ground, I descended the rope, and then climbed back up and into the saddle.

  By the end of the day Eshshah and I felt pleased with our progress. It made such a difference that there was no longer any misunderstanding between the Healer and me.

  Each day was similar, yet different, as new skills were introduced. Excited with every challenge our trainers gave us, we could tell they were pleased with our successes. Not that we mastered everything, but it was obvious we gave our entire selves to our practice.

  As I fell into bed one night, I went over in my head the plan that was beginning to formulate for the procurement of the dragon egg. I was nervous as well as excited that my lifelong dream of a quest would be seeing fruition in just a short time. I smiled to myself when I recalled my childhood aspirations I only shared with my mother. If she could see me now — I mean be here with me — I knew she would be so proud.

  With that thought lingering in my head, I faded into sleep. I had a dream I was riding Thunder. I heard the sound of his hooves as they hit the ground. We turned a corner and came upon a group of people who were talking excitedly. I couldn’t see their faces, but only heard their voices. Then a woman in the group wailed — it sounded so real.

  “Amáne, Amáne! Wake up.” It was Eshshah. “Something is wrong.”

  I bolted upright and heard the Healer from her kitchen. It sounded like she was crying. There were other voices, upset and in an urgent discussion. I could only hear clips of it as I strained to listen.

  “We have no choice, Healer, whether she is ready or not, she must attempt it.” It was Gallen’s voice. “A rider alone could never make it in and out again safely, it would take a linked pair.”

  In one motion, I threw one of the bed covers around me, over my nightshirt and rushed down the corridor to see what was wrong. I came into the kitchen to see Dorjan, Gallen and the Healer with stricken looks on their faces. The Healer had tears streaming down her face.

  “What’s happening?” I ran to the Healer and put my arms around her to try comfort her, she looked so fragile.

  Dorjan answered, “The Healer’s nephew has been kidnapped and he will be killed within three days time.” I didn’t know she had a nephew, but this was not the time to ask about him. Dorjan continued, “In the perpetration of the kidnapping, Farvard lost his life.” Dorjan took a deep breath. “He now rests with his ancestors.” This struck me personally. I had come to know and love Farvard through the communication disc. I groaned, dropped heavily next to the Healer, and heaved a jagged sigh.

  Gallen turned to the Healer. “We have no choice,” he repeated firmly and with restrained urgency.

  She sat up and took a deep breath, then looked into my eyes. “Amáne, this is a long and complicated story and we have no time to go over the details. Just know this, Ansel, my nephew, is currently a lord of a manor in Tramoren, a township northwest of the City of Teravinea — where Farvard was. This is a political kidnapping of a noble, and by our kingdom’s code, a kidnapping of this kind should only result in ransom. They have broken the code and raised the stakes — we’ve b
een informed he will be executed.”

  “Who has done this? Can’t we just give them what they want?” I asked.

  “They want him dead,” she answered.

  “Where are they holding him?”

  “He’s in the dungeons of Castle Teravinea,” Dorjan responded.

  Icy fingers went up my spine as I recalled the stories Dorjan had told me of that dark place.

  Like a curtain thrown open to flood a room with the morning light, our destiny was illuminated — I saw what Eshshah and I were meant to do. After a quick mental check with her, I said calmly, “Eshshah and I will go. We’ve been studying the floorplans for weeks now and with just a little more instruction on that level of the castle,” I dared not say dungeon or I might have lost my courage, “we can make our way to his cell. If good fortune is on our side, Eshshah and I can bring him home safely.”

  I couldn’t believe I heard myself say those words. Sounding much more calm and brave than I actually felt, I knew something of immense proportions was behind all this that I couldn’t understand. For some reason, the Healer and the two dragon riders weren’t ready to reveal it. I realized at that moment all of our training and practice, both mental and physical, was meant for this one quest. Eshshah agreed with me.

  The Healer opened her mouth and shook her head as if she planned to decline our offer, but Gallen put his hand on her shoulder. Then he spoke for all of them. “Amáne and Eshshah, you are a true dragon and rider linked pair. At such a young age and after only a limited time of linking, you’ve grasped your duty with more courage than any linked pair, male or female in our history and I am privileged to know you.”

  As she struggled to control her tears, the Healer wrapped her arms around me and held me.

  It was Dorjan who spoke next. “We have very little time to prepare. We will do what we can to help you. You must leave at next nightfall. It’s too late to leave now. Let’s go over the layout of the dungeon and then you need to get some rest.”

  “Rest? You expect me to sleep?”

  “Eshshah will have to help you with that. You have to be alert for this quest. You cannot stay up tonight and expect to be successful tomorrow night, or you’ll set yourself up for failure. With the combination of Eshshah’s powers and some of the Healer’s herbs, you can find sleep. There’s not much more you can do tonight, anyway.”

  So, Dorjan and I retreated to the library and pulled out the plans of the lowest levels of the castle, the place where nightmares were made.

  “Dorjan, there are hundreds of cells here. How am I supposed to know where he is?”

  Pointing to one section, he said, “I know these are no longer used, so we won’t worry about them. This smaller section over here was always reserved for political prisoners. This is where we are certain he is being held. There are only about twenty cells in that corridor.”

  We went over a couple different approaches and exits so I could have a back-up plan if changes had been made that he wasn’t aware of. Dorjan fervently hoped there wouldn’t be any surprises — his informant had stayed in contact with him and he felt he was as current as he could be. He instructed me on the best path to reach that part of the dungeon, pointed out where the guard’s room was located, and the safest way to get past it to reach the cells.

  “I’ll leave you now to your rest. I have much to make ready for you. I’ll return late morning or early afternoon. Thank you, Amáne and Eshshah. In time you will more fully understand our noble cause.”

  With that, he left me in the library, had a few quick words for the Healer and Gallen, and rode off. I studied the maps for a while longer and then went downstairs to the kitchen where Gallen and the Healer were quietly making plans. The Healer handed me a cup of earthy-smelling tea and instructed me to take it to my chambers and make sure I drank the entire cup. That, along with Eshshah’s humming should put me into a restful sleep. I was doubtful — the butterflies collected in my stomach as I came to the realization of what we were about to do.

  It was mid-morning when I awoke to the sound of horse hooves in the courtyard. Remarkably refreshed, I sat up looking forward to my daily practice. That is until the events of last night came back in a harsh actuality — it was not a dream. The force of reality blasted through my body, first with nausea, then my heart pounded in my ears, followed by a wave of muscle spasms.

  Eshshah came immediately to my assistance and hummed her gentle remedy. After a bit, with her help, I regained control. “This won’t do. How can I accomplish a near-impossible task if I can’t control my nerves? What if I’m unable to even begin my mission?” Doubt threatened to overtake my confidence of last night.

  “Amáne, don’t think like that.” Eshshah admonished. “Your first task is to think positively about your goal. We have no choice but to succeed — so we will.”

  I dressed and made my way down to the kitchen. Dorjan, Gallen and the Healer were unloading gear and weapons from Dorjan’s cart onto the kitchen table. There were a couple of swords of varying lengths, a shield, and two pole arms — spears — leaning against the wall. I also saw a few items I couldn’t identify.

  “Good morning, Amáne,” Dorjan said in his booming voice, “you look well rested. I’ve brought you some gifts I’ve been working on for quite some time. I just finished the last a few hours ago. I may just be known as the blacksmith in Dorsal, but I do know more than just horseshoes, wagon wheels and clipping horses’ tails. At one time, my family were cutlers. They made the finest knives, daggers, spears and swords in all of Teravinea. I learned that craft before I became a dragon rider. My skills do not match those of my father, but I haven’t forgotten what he taught me so many lifetimes ago.”

  He reached for the pole arms. “I understand you’ve taken a liking to wielding a spear, so I’ve crafted two differing styles. You can choose which feels best to you.”

  He lifted one that had a blade that widened toward the bottom and had two arms or lugs that curved up from the base of the blade before attaching to the shaft. Handing it to me, he said, “This partisan is a long thrust-and-cut spear. You’ll find it a very agile and nimble fighting weapon.”

  I took it, feeling its weight and its balance. It was light in my hand and had a reach of maybe a little less than six feet.

  Gesturing toward the other pole arm, “This one is a glaive. As you can see, it has a longer thinner blade, with a well-defined fore and back edge. It is exceptional for thrusting. And this guard here,” he indicated a small cross bar a little below the base of the blade and before the shaft, “will allow you to parry and control your opponent’s weapon.”

  He handed it to me and it felt just as nice, the reach was maybe a bit longer due to the length of the blade. They were both of beautiful craftsmanship. I raised my eyebrows and looked at Dorjan when I saw Eshshah’s scales were inlaid at the base of the blade.

  “You’ve noticed I’ve made good use of Eshshah’s scales, with her permission, of course. You can whisper her name and the scales will ignite for use as a torch. It may come in handy in the dark tunnels under the castle.”

  The Healer spoke, “You can test them on the pell a little later to see which you prefer. We need to go through the rest of your gear with you first.”

  There were several swords from which to choose, all well-made and sturdy. I had already made my mind up one of the pole arms would be my weapon of choice. But as a back-up, I chose a beautiful, yet simple sword that suited me.

  Next, the Healer handed me some new knee-high boots with buttons up the side. Leather cords laced around the buttons. These were not ordinary leather boots, although their appearance had me think so. They were, in part, a gift from Eshshah, as her scales were used to make them. Between the top leather and the lining were her beautiful fire-like scales. In another era they would not have been hidden, but would have shown in their full beauty. However, in these times we could not chance exposure. Their strength is unmatched and they would protect my lower leg and feet from almost any
thing.

  “These are beautiful. Thank you, Healer and Eshshah.”

  “There’s more from Eshshah and me,” said the Healer as she pulled back a cloth that covered something on the table. “I wanted you to see its beauty before we cover it up.”

  I took in a sharp breath as she held the most beautiful breastplate I had ever seen. Again, it was constructed with Eshshah’s iridescent scales. They were fastened, in an overlaid pattern, to a leather background. It shone brighter than if it were polished metal. I could see why we needed to cover it up as its brilliance would announce my coming from a long distance. It consisted of a front and back piece that attached at the shoulders. Buckles secured the two pieces at the ribs. I found it surprisingly lightweight and nearly indestructible. The pauldrons for my shoulders would be fastened on separately.

  To go with the breastplate were gauntlets, to protect my hands and forearms, again made with Eshshah’s contributions. Similar to my boots, a thin layer of soft leather covered her shimmering scales, and made them look like ordinary elbow-length leather gloves. There is no other known substance as strong and lightweight as dragon scales.

  Gallen and the Healer put the breastplate over my head for a tentative fitting. They buckled it at the sides, and were please to find it a perfect fit. It was surprisingly supple and didn’t hinder my movement at all. This piece of my gear was shaped to make me unidentifiable as female, which didn’t prove to be difficult as I was not very well endowed on top anyway — unlike some of my female acquaintances. There was a time or two when that fact was a little embarrassing to me, but now I was thankful for my body style.

  Our plan hinged on the fact that I would go in disguised as a male. My hair would be tucked inside my helmet. I learned to move and behave with a masculine bearing. Dorjan and Gallen had taught me to speak with a lower voice so I would sound genuine, like a male my age — not put-on. I’d been working on that part of my training for the last couple of weeks for our original quest. We would proceed with the same plan for the rescue. The Healer started to explain that in the unlikely event something were to happen and I was captured — if it were revealed I was female ... She shuddered and didn’t finish her sentence. I understood what she meant. She insisted I not drop my disguise until I had met up safely with Eshshah. Dorjan and Gallen had both given me last-minute pointers to improve my performance.