Chapter 2

On the trail before the fishermen stirred in the morning, they set a hard pace; putting distance between the village and themselves. About noon they met a crippled tinker going south. Lormia and Ree'al took a light noon time meal with him.

The only name he would give was Sarn. He said he was an ex-warrior but was vague about where and when. Sarn was a little over weight and at least 60 years old, dressed in patched merchant clothing, more patches than original material. His white hair and the hitch in his walk confirmed his story. The gaps in teeth might have been lost in bar fights. Ree'al believed he had been a warrior but wanted details, Sarn deflected all other question about himself.

Ree'al was in a fine mood. Lormia and he had managed to make it through half a day without arguing, even speaking about minor topics without rancor.

"You should tell me of your battles," Ree'al said to Sarn. "I'll have you know that I am prince of the Sulvarans. I've probably studied the battle which cost you a leg. I was forced to study every other battle known to man."

"So it's you that all the trouble is about," Sarn laughed. "Wise move coming here. You can wait until the civil war is over before retaking your crown."

"What? There's war in Sulvara?"

"You know how it is," Sarn said. "The old king dies and a weakened crown must sometimes fight for its life. Excuse me, I mean Your Highness."

"What details do you know?" Ree'al asked.

"Only what I've told you. The old king is dead and the clans are soon to be at war with one another."

"Which clans are at war?" Ree'al grabbing the tinker by his collar.

"I don't know!"

"Ree'al! Let go of him," Lormia shouted. "What's the matter with you?"

Ree'al released Sarn and smoothed Sarn's shirt. He composed himself. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I have dear friends in Sulvara. Can you tell me where you came by this information?"

"In Lupida," Sarn replied. "It's a fifteen day's walk into the piedmont."

Ree'al gave Lormia a questioning look. Sharp words came to her lips but she didn't utter them. "If we must," she said instead.

"Well met Sarn," Ree'al said to the tinker while putting on his backpack.

"All's well that ends well," the tinker responded gruffly.

Lormia turned to Sarn as Ree'al took off at a trot. "He's an asshole," she explained running to join him.

They ran all afternoon and the next afternoon too. Ree'al wanted to run the next morning but Lormia refused.

"Maybe you don't need to rest your body, but I need to rest mine."

Ree'al was surprised. In his desperate need for more information, he'd forgotten their enmity. She had agreed to a detour without arguing or demanding to know why he was in such a hurry."

"We can walk today," he agreed. "And thank you for coming so far out of the way with me."

Now it was Lormia's turn to be surprised. "That must have hurt," she said to him.

"Not as painful as I thought it would be," Ree'al grinned. "But don't expect it again."

"Gods I'm going to hate myself for this. I can't believe I'm going to ask," Lormia said. "But would you show me what you mean about quickness?"

"That must really have hurt."

"Worse than you can imagine."

Ree'al worked with her for an hour before she understood. "Now practice on your own. I'll correct you if your movements are wrong."

Lormia and Ree'al sat by their cooking fire as they cooled down from morning practice. Six days had passed since they had met the tinker.

"Ree'al," Lormia spoke. "For a moment today I felt I almost understood quickness. But I don't see how you can strike so hard if you are moving so quickly."

"You will if you keep practicing."

"You won't tell me?"

"I could tell you but you will learn more if you discover it yourself," Ree'al answered.

"Great," she said with disgust. "You teach by saying nothing."

"Lormia, I teach as I was taught. Explaining it to you won't teach you. Your body must learn. I can't tell you what it feels like when you do it correctly. You'll know when you do it right. I can help you overcome 'wrong thought' or 'wrong movement'. That's how I can help you the most."

Ree'al paused before he spoke again. He debated telling her more. A swordsman can't learn too many things at the same time. She was still learning about quickness.

"What is a 'wrong thought'?" she asked.

"It would help if you spoke Sulvaran," he complained.

"I don't speak Sulvaran," she actually kept her jaw clenched as she spoke.

Ree'al disregarded the first few responses that came to mind. None of them would have helped. Instead he pointed to the right, to a small ash tree. It was 2 or 3 inches in diameter.

"Hit that tree a single blow as hard as you can, about head level," he said.

"Why?"

"Just do it. Cut it in half if you can."

Lormia stood by the tree. She took two practice swings and than swung the sword with all her strength. Her sword stuck less than half-way through and stuck. Ree'al pushed the tree aside to free the blade.

"Give me your sword," Ree'al said.

"Now watch," he said after he had the sword. "I'm going to strike the tree three times." And he did.

Lormia watched carefully. There was something different about the three rapid strikes although each was an easy swing. She watched the first two strikes go completely through the tree and the third stick again about half-way through. Ree'al pushed the falling tree out of the way and removed the blade. He offered it to Lormia.

"What was the difference?" he asked. "I mean the difference in the swings not in the results."

"I don't know," she had no idea what he meant. She had been watching the sword.

"How can you learn if you don't pay attention? Watch again, this is how you try to make power."

Ree'al used his ginja and made exaggerated movements when struck the now shortened tree. "Well?"

"You used your hips to make power," Lormia answered.

"Close, I used my hips to try to make power. And there my ginja is, stuck in a tree."

"Jump as high as you can," he suddenly told her.

"What?"

"Jump as high as you can."

"Why?"

"Just jump." Lormia did.

"There were two times during the jump when the ground pushed hardest against you," Ree'al said when she had jumped. "What were those two times?"

"I don't know! Is this one of you jokes?"

"I don't joke about teaching swords. What were those two times?"

"I don't know," Lormia was frustrated.

"Then jump until you do know."

Lormia was as angry as she was frustrated. Was he making fun of her? Was he trying to help her?

She jumped and jumped again. Ree'al took a drink of water and didn't watch as she jumped. Her legs were getting tired before she stopped. She had a look of concentration on her face.

"When I push down to jump up and when I land," she said quietly.

"When you land you push down, don't you? Else you would fall on your butt." Ree'al asked without turning around.

"Yes."

"Now watch me, not my ginja," he added as he pulled his sword.

Again he struck the tree, twice this time. Both cuts went completely through.

"Did you see where the power came from?" he asked.

"On the first you dropped down. On the second you rose," She said thoughtfully. "Your power came from the ground."

"From the ground, that's how to make power. Your muscles must be strong enough to pass the power to the sword, but your legs, your lower back, your stomach, your torso, and your arms, all pass the power on. Think about that as we run," Ree'al said as he gathered his things.

Several hundred miles to the northeast, four Sulvarans sat at a tavern table talking quietly. "Are you telling me that he bested Rhohala?" The speaker, an old warrior, missing his right ear, was clearly in charge.

"Yes, my Lord," said a young man of no more than 17. He had a light complexion and dark hair tied in a warrior knot. His hair was blond and his eyes were amber, "We found a cairn and nearby a broken sword. I'm sure it was Rhohala's. I saw him fight on more than one occasion. The honor marks were gone and the sword had been used to scratch a message."

"What was the message?"

"'Warriors were here.' Written in Sulvaran and the remains of a camp site were found in woods nearby. The camp site had signs of the Clan Valnessa."

"So you believe that he is still alive," the older warrior said. "That he killed Rhohala."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Why is he so hard to run down?" the older warrior asked rhetorically. "At least we have an idea where he was. Search for any word of him. And hurry, we must find him soon."

Ree'al guessed that they should reach Lupida by the next day. They were setting a good pace but it came at a price. Both Ree'al and Lormia were tired and gaunt. Their food supplies were failing and they took no time to set snares or fish.

They continued to practice both at dawn and dusk. Ree'al watched Lormia practice but made no comment. He could see that she was making progress. She, however, could not see any change and was frustrated. If she worked through this without any more help, she would be on the right road. If he helped now, she would depend on others to teach her every little thing. He saw that she was about to make a breakthrough. She thought she saw her limit.

She was surly when frustrated. But they had made peace and she tried to keep her sharp tongue silent. Ree'al was impressed by her effort. He couldn't completely stop his sarcastic remarks but they were aimed as much at him that her. She saw the humor in some of his jokes.

They reached Lupida that day, a little before sunset. The architecture looked different to Ree'al but he couldn't quite put his finger on what the difference was. He felt uneasy, like a man whose wife looks different. She'd expect him to notice and comment. One wrong comment could lead to disaster.

Travelers' Inn, how original he thought. It looked as good as any other place to eat and spend the night. Ree'al and Lormia entered, standing near the doorway as their eyes adjusted to the low light.

The table Ree'al would prefer was taken by two men. What was worse was that they were not looking at Lormia like the rest of the small crowd. They were staring at Ree'al and as his vision improved, he let out a sigh. Turning to Lormia, he spoke to her in a calm voice.

"Lormia, remember your promise. The two men at the corner table to the left are Sulvaran. Stay two steps behind me and stay quiet. The wrong words spoken here can kill you. They are Valnessa and are here to kill me. Let's make sure that at most they kill one of us."

Ree'al glanced around the room again, looking for other threats. The crowd was typical, some drunk fools that might say or do the wrong thing to Lormia but no other threats. Ree'al began to walk slowly towards the table where the Valnessa sat.

They looked similar to each other but were not the same age. The older warrior said something to the younger one as Ree'al approached. They were probably father and son. Ree'al thought. The older was somewhere between thirty-five and forty. The younger one still had peach fuzz on his face. Both men had Vanessa devices on their jackets.

The older man pulled his ginja and laid it on the table, the sharpened side towards Ree'al. Ree'al stopped six feet away from the table and held his hands out, palms forward.

There was no change of expression on the older man's face as he lifted his ginja and turned the sharpened side towards himself.

"Don't sit down," Ree'al spoke quietly to Lormia. "Don't say anything and for Gods' sake don't touch your sword."

Ree'al sat down at the table, his hands in clear sight on top. "I am Ree'al, once of the clan Jarnessa," he said.

"What do you mean once?" the young man asked.

The older man gave his son a withering look. "It becomes harder and harder to teach manners to the young," he said to Ree'al.

"There is truth in that," Ree'al responded. "I suppose you're here to challenge me?"

"Yes. I am Ranelus da Valnessa and I challenge you."

"I accept, but this isn't the best ground for a challenge. Are you willing to wait until the morning? I'm sure we can find a suitable spot down the road a ways, just far enough so that we aren't bothered by the town guard."