By My Honor: Part Three

    She looked up, squinting in the darkness of the night, and saw a shadowy form against the backline of trees. “It’s me,” she whispered, trying hard not to cry. She was with her brother at last, but the burning hope that the ransomers would give her a sum, that she would march successfully back into the palace with the price of her brother’s freedom, was gone. The emptiness where the sustaining wish had been left her hollow. “You were right, Aratisil. I thought I had a chance of getting you out. I was a fool.” Swallowing against the tightness of her throat, she added stubbornly, “but I would do it again gladly, if it meant that I might have a chance of bringing you home.”

    There was a soft scuffling as her brother inched against the ropes that bound him, closing the gap that separated them. “I know.”

    Araril glanced down at him, and her heart filled with a profound mingling of sorrow and love. “I’m so sorry.”

    The dark outline of his head nodded. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I know your feelings already.”

     “How?” she asked. “Before... we were thinking through our minds… How did we do it?”

    A soft moonbeam filtered down through the leaves, and its silvery light glimmered in his eye as he looked at her. “I don’t know. It just happened. Maybe the fact that we are twins bound us, somehow.”

     “You two!” cried a snarling voice through the brush. “Quiet, or I’ll take your tongues out!”

    Araril smiled to herself. They don’t know what we can do.

    In her head, Aratisil laughed weakly. No, and it will remain so, I hope.

    * * * * *

     “Right here, boy,” said Aiad, gesturing to an open space in the training field. Around them was an array of targets, arrows, bows, and various weaponry, set out for the lessons of the squires.

    Tory jogged excitedly to where the Uni had pointed, and awaited his commands. He was willing to do almost anything to prove to the knight who had chosen him that he was worthy of the selection.

    With a stern expression on his face, Aiad handed the Zafara a long, slender sword. Its length shone silver in the morning light, and the tip was covered by a cork of wood to blunt it. “You have no horn sprouting from your forehead,” explained the Uni, “so you must learn to use this.”

    The knight showed Tory how to stand; arm bent and up, the handle held tight against the wrist, gripped by thumb and the first finger only, and his knees bent, shoulder-width apart. Tory felt awkward as he stood in the guard position, but Aiad showed him to adjust the blade so that its tips pointed up towards the enemy’s face, and to stand balanced between his bent knees.

     “Good,” said the knight, pleased, as he surveyed his squire’s stance. “You have never done this before, you say? You have inborn balance, then.” He showed Tory the advance step – out from the knee – and the retreat, telling him to keep his heels down and shoulders even.

    Aiad moved across from Tory, then, and lowered his head. “If I push forward,” he said, leaning down, “you parry left.” Half-panicked, Tory swung wildly, and Aiad shook his head. “You only need to move it slightly,” he explained. “Try it.”

    Gulping down his nervousness, Tory moved the handle a few inches to the left. Aiad slid his head forward, and it went right past Tory’s left shoulder! “See?” asked the knight. “It doesn’t take much, does it?”

     “No, sir!” exclaimed the squire, beaming. “Not much at all.”

    Aiad did the same motion on the other side – with only a small movement of the wrist, Tory found that the attacking blade or horn would slide harmlessly past.

     “Those are the two top parries,” said the Uni, “but what if I come under?” He demonstrated – as Tory brought his blade left, Aiad simply looped his horn under in a neat disengage, with a path clear to the Zafara’s exposed chest. “If that happens, flick your wrist in, toward the center, and catch my horn as it rotates.” Aiad jabbed his horn out, and Tory parried left; then, as Aiad swiveled the horn around, Tory brought the blade in a right semicircle, meeting it halfway. The knight raised his head, nodding in approval. “Very good.”

    Flushed with excitement, Tory all but flew for joy. “I can’t wait to learn more.”

    The knight looked at him, his eyes shining. “Seems I have chosen well,” he said. “But, my squire, the basic moves are only a small part of the art. Most of it will develop through practice – when you get to the point where you do not need to think and concentrate, where the movements come naturally… that is when you shall truly be prepared.”

    Aiad paused a moment, as if considering something, then smiled to himself. “Stay here a minute – I will be back shortly.” His magnificent wings spread out, leaving dappled shadows on the ground, and he pumped them down powerfully, lifting from the earth. Tory watched in awe as the graceful white form swept upward in light strokes, cutting through the air with the movements of a bird. The Uni landed weightlessly several yards away and bent down, biting a fold of cloth in his mouth. When he returned, he dropped the cloth to the ground, and said, “Put them on.”

    As Tory unfolded the garments, he saw that they were training padding, stained slightly yellow with wear and sweat, but he slipped them over his head obediently. The shirt was heavy, but thick with cotton lining, so that any blow he failed to parry would do him no harm.

    Aiad jabbed his horn into a cork, so that the tip was covered over, and lowered his head into guard. “Put your blade up,” he said.

    Tory’s eyes widened in alarm, and his heart whirred within him. He, a half-trained farmboy, was going to duel with his knight? “Sir… I don’t know if I am ready…”

    The knight chuckled softly. “Ready? Who said anything about being ready? But this is practice, young Tory, and you need it beyond my emphasis. Practice with me regularly, my squire, and you will be more than ready. Now, guard.”

    Tory’s knees shook as he forced them to bend, and he realized he was breathing much faster than usual. The arm he upraised for balance drooped with his nervousness, as if wishing to cringe in and protect him. Biting his lip hard, he snapped it back, and jerked his chin upward. He was going to look confident, even if he did not feel it. “Okay,” he said.

    Aiad advanced in a frightening flash of speed, and his horn darted past Tory’s wild parry and jabbed him hard in the chest. “Small movements, remember?” the knight corrected, and stepped back. “Try again.”

    Staggered by the swiftness of the knight’s attack, Tory stared at the poised horn, willing himself to react more quickly. He knew that Aiad would give him to quarter – that, to train, the knight would present him with the aggression of a true enemy.

    At the Zafara’s nod, the Uni plunged his head forward again, but this time Tory only moved the blade slightly, as Aiad had instructed. The silver flash of horn caught on the blade near the handle, and slid harmlessly past. Aiad raised his head, nodding. “That’s it!” he said. “Your first parry, young Tory.”

    The two were positioning back to guard, preparing to practice again, when the doors of the castle burst open with such violence that the wood crashed with the sound of thunder into the stone. The Uni turned, pricking his ears, and gazed alertly at the figure running toward them.

    It was the royal messenger, looking shaken and unkempt. As he approached, the Uni called out, “What is it?”

    The messenger bent double as he stumbled the last few steps, panting for breath. “King Braedon… commands your presence in the throneroom… urgent…”

     Aiad nodded sharply. “Tory, come.” Rearing up, the knight lunged into a full gallop, spraying bits of grass and turf behind his blurred hooves, shooting toward the still-open castle doors. Tory broke into a sprint behind him, wondering what the king could want of them.

    The knight, squire, and messenger entered the throneroom in a rush, and marched to where the king of the lands sat. His proud shoulders were slumped, and the bleak dullness of his eyes revealed alarming despair. King Braedon, renowned for his self-control and inner fire, was weakened before their eyes.

     “My lord, they are here,” announced the messenger.

     “Leave us,” came a soft command. The messenger bowed hastily, and left.

     Aiad said nothing, but stood at attention, waiting for his king to speak. Tory silently moved to stand beside him.

     “I was a fool,” said the king finally in a voice cracked with sorrow. “After Aratisil was taken, I refused to agree to the terms of his return – I would not send out another member of the Royal family to be endangered for him.”

     “My lord, that was wisdom,” assured Aiad. “If you bent your will to any who would threaten the Royal family, it would only encourage others to attempt the same thing – you know this. My king is not one who would allow himself to be ruled by criminals; he is one who would give them justice.”

    The king looked up, his face stricken. “I thought the same, Sir, and still I do. But my morals have cost me greatly – Aiad, Princess Araril went after him.”

    The Uni raised his head in alarm. “Alone? Unguarded, unescorted?”

     “Such were their terms,” sobbed King Braedon. “Araril heard, and took it in her head to save her brother. She is lost to me too, now; my knight, what do you advise?”

     “We must not abandon hope,” said the knight. “There is a chance, slim as it may be, that the thieves will stay with their terms and the princess will return safely, as they promised, with the demanded price. Should this happen, we will send out a group of knights to seize the kidnappers and bring our prince back, once Araril tells us their location.

     “But the thieves may take her as well, as you fear. Even now, if they offer new terms, we must not bend to them, for they will have shown us their dishonesty. We must take action.”

     “And what action do you propose?” asked the king.

     “Send out a search party: small, but able, to track the prince and princess. Post notices throughout the land of the crime, and offer rewards to any who can tell us information of the kidnapping. But most importantly – do not let the criminals go unpunished for their crime; show your land that you will not tolerate this action against your heirs.”

     “You advise wisely,” said the king. “I have already sent messengers to spread the word of Aratisil’s kidnapping; I have only to expand their message. But this search party – whom do you recommend?”

     The Uni smiled grimly. “I will go, my lord – my squire Tory and I. By my honor, your children will be returned to you.”

To be continued...