Chapter V. "Dancing"

Shaniera moved to the rhythm of memory. She and Renoa would have done this together, as they had for so long, one practicing movements while the other would play the drums. It was the music of Yokudan fury, a proud heritage of conquest. It was the tune to which songs were sang of how an entire people fled a doomed continent, and carved out a new home with steel and fire upon the foreign shores on which they landed. Now, with one less relative at home, she felt even more distant from that great past. She danced alone in the blue room, the drums sitting silent in the corner, playing only in her head.

When the drums stopped, she stood frozen between two stances, and then cast aside the wooden sword. The clanging echoed through the house, the sounds of everyone else dispersed and distant. Shaniera looked to her father’s sword displayed above the mantlepiece, a long and slender blade of silver. He had once told her that the weapon was blessed by a witch, and its blade would sear the flesh of monsters from other realms, the magic compelling them to flee the mortal plane. She practiced with it very rarely, knowing it was a legacy that would always be out of reach, even if the sword itself was just low enough to grab. She thought of taking it down now, hoping that it might bring her closer to her father’s grace. She still had one cousin in this palace, somewhere, and he might be willing to spar with live steel. Unlike Renoa, Blane came from Ah’zuli’s side of the family, and he had spent an apprenticeship in Daggerfall, bringing back with him the fighting styles of Breton knights. It might do her good to practice against a different form.

She turned to leave and search for him, but the entryway was not empty anymore. Ella looked cowed peaking from beyond the wall, and when Shaniera sighted her, she held up her hands as if in surrender.

“Sorry, my lady, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” The girl’s manners had been stellar since her arrival, clearly grateful for the refuge they had granted her.

“Don’t apologize. Is there something you needed?”

“No, I was just wondering if you were busy. I don’t want to disturb your training.” She stepped away.

“You disturb me none. Come join me, Ella.”

“Are you certain?”

“I insist.”

She stepped inside. Ella was wearing a brown frock and cowhide shoes. Her hair had a bit of shine to it from a few days without being washed, and it hung over her shoulders as straight and pointed as grass. It was nothing like the hair of a Redguard, except in its color, black as jet. Shaniera only knew one fair-skinned person with hair so dark, and it was Mikhael. He and Boros still had not returned, and after the Ash’abah had appeared with the carcass of one of their ponies and Renoa’s blood-stained necklace, everyone feared the worst. Shaniera did not want to think what fate might have befallen them.

“Do you play?” Ella’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. She was looking at drums in the corner.

“Yes,” Shaniera said. “Renoa and I would play for one another when we trained.”

“Renoa...” Ella’s eyes were cast down. “Is she the one who’s missing?”

“Yes.” Shaniera and her mother hadn’t spoken about it yet. She wasn’t sure if they would. “I worry, but I am sure she’s alive, somewhere. She’s a skilled fighter, and it was a bloodied necklace they found, not her sword.”

“I hope she’s okay, too...” Ella looked at the sword on the floor. “Would you mind teaching me some technique? Just something basic, so I might be able to defend myself.”

“I would not mind at all, Ella.” Shaniera rather liked the idea. She had pitied the poor girl ever since her appearance. The thought of Ella out alone with who knew what out there was a disturbing one. Shaniera could pick up a fallen branch and wield it with some proficiency, so she was never truly defenseless out in the woods, but someone without any martial training would be easy prey, even if they were armed. She picked up the training weapon and handed it to Ella. The girl held it like she had no idea what it was.

“The first thing you should learn is your guard,” Shaniera said. “Hold it like this, with both hands.” She maneuvered Ella’s hands into place on the hilt.

“It’s heavy,” Ella remarked. “At least for wood.”

“Real steel is even heavier. You will grow accustomed to the weight as you practice. Now, spread your legs and squat down a little, like this.”

Ella tried to match her, but her footing was way off, and she hunched over her weapon instead of lowering with a straight back. “I don’t think I’m doing it right...” she looked at Shaniera, sheepish.

Leanne would roll her eyes and tell her to straighten up, Shaniera thought. She was not Leanne, and she walked behind Ella and put her hands on her shoulders.

“Keep your back straight ... yes, like that, very good. Now, twist your hips a little.” She put her hands on Ella’s waist. “I’ll lower myself into the stance, and you follow.” Ella pressed herself against Shaniera as she matched her footing.

“Did you and Renoa ever train so ... intimately?” Ella said, her voice suddenly calm.

“Intimately?” Shaniera blinked. “I suppose? She was my cousin.”

“So, no.”

She didn’t understand right away what Ella was getting at, and when she did, an anxious rush filled her stomach. Is she flirting with me? She moved away. “Alright, in that stance you are ready to move yourself or your sword into many other positions,” she explained, recovering her composure. “The idea of fighting like dancing is to move with little effort, keep yourself unburdened and shielded, and strike fast and hard.”

“Okay ... and how do I strike like that?” The wooden sword in Ella’s hands was carved like a scimitar, with a blade short and wide. The hilt was longer for beginners; true scimitars are rarely meant to be wielded with both hands., though plenty long ones existed, the bastard swords of Hammerfell. The one on the wall resembled a falchion more than a scimitar, so Shaniera trained with different practice swords so that she might be able to wield any from her homeland. She fetched one now.

“Like this.” Shaniera went into the stance she had helped Ella into, and swung swift across. She held the guard at the end of the attack. “Now, you try.”

Ella slashed at the air in front of her. The sword made no sound with the air.

“Harder than that. Imagine you have a vampire in front of you.”

The next swing was far more vicious. Ella’s face lit up. “Did you hear that? It made a swish.”

“Yes, that’s good! It means you can cut air. That’s half of a swing against a real target, so you’re halfway to fighting already.”

With a giggle, Ella strode to Shaniera’s side and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I think I have much further to go, but thank you for your sweet words, princess.”

Shani sought words she didn’t have. She sure is affectionate. The sensation of Ella’s kiss on her face wasn’t like that of a mother’s or cousin’s; it left her with a warm thrill racing through her. No one inspired this kind of excitement but Leanne. Leanne ... she wished Leanne were here.

As if on cue, the echoes of footsteps came drifting in from a couple rooms away. Shaniera could name most of the household by the sound of their walk alone. “Leanne?” She called out, and the footsteps ceased.

“Shaniera?” It was her. “Have you seen Ella?”

“In here.” She saw guilt written on Ella’s face as Leanne came marching towards them, and she grinned. “What did you do?”

As Ella struggled for an answer, Leanne came into the dancing room lugging a basket full of clothes. “I thought you were going to help fold these,” she grumbled. Looking between the both of them so close together, one could practically see the topic of laundry flee from her mind. She set the basket down and put her hands on her hips. “Apologies, am I interrupting something?”