David Wells - Cursed Bones

“Fighting with a knife is about speed and accuracy,” Isabel said while Ayela practiced thrusting with the blade. “Strength is secondary. Let the sharpness of the blade do the work for you. Your task is just to deliver it to the right spot as quickly as possible, then to withdraw to a safe distance in anticipation of your enemy’s counterattack.

“Remember, striking some points on the body are deadly with a single cut, but it’s often more effective to weaken your opponent with a less deadly strike first. Cut their arm or their hand to weaken their ability to hold their weapon. Draw blood to unnerve them. Put them on the defensive and pick your moment to deliver the killing blow. Be patient if you have the time, especially if you’ve already cut them. Let their blood drain away until their head becomes light and their judgment falters before going for the kill.

“Your kill strike can fall on many different parts of the body. With a knife, accuracy is all-important. With a sword, you can simply stab a person in the midsection. Such a strike is harder to accomplish with a shorter blade, especially if your opponent is armored. Target the eyes and the throat if you have a shot. Both spots are almost always unprotected and a strike to either can be deadly in the extreme.”

Ayela worked on her technique, carefully following Isabel’s instructions for handling the knife-how to hold it, when to choose a thrust over a slice, how to conceal a drawn blade to gain the element of surprise.

“Remember, regardless of how damaging a point of attack is, it’s better to draw blood than wait for the perfect opening. Wounding your enemy weakens them. If you’re down and the only shot you have is to stab them in the side of the leg, then do it. If you’re on the defensive and all you can manage is a slash along the outer arm, then do it. Cut your enemy when and where you can.

“Once you’ve committed to the fight, give them no mercy, no quarter, and feel no remorse. Press any advantage you have with single-minded determination and don’t let up until you’re certain the enemy is finished. Even when they look defeated, strike again just to be sure.”

After Ayela had learned the basics of a number of thrusting and slicing attacks, Isabel started working those techniques into combinations, targeting first the arm, then moving in for more ruinous parts of the body. She worked on several multiple-strike combinations at low speed, focusing on accuracy until Ayela was comfortable with the series of movements, then began increasing the speed of the movements until Ayela was dripping with sweat.

As evening fell, she stopped her relentless drilling and smiled at the young Princess of Karth. “You’ve done well today.”

“Thank you, Isabel. I learned so much. I’m already starting to see how to string one technique after the other to create different combinations and how it all depends on the enemy, what they’re armed with, if they have armor, how they move, where they’re standing in relation to me … there are just so many factors.”

“That’s why the basics are important,” Isabel said. “Master those and you’ll be able to apply them to any situation you face.”

Ayela nodded. “I’m so tired, but I can’t imagine I’ll sleep a wink tonight with all of these new ideas floating around in my head.”

“You might be surprised,” Isabel said. “Honestly, the best way to really absorb everything you’ve learned today is to put it out of your mind. Stop thinking about it and let your mind absorb it. You’ll be surprised how much clearer these lessons will be tomorrow.”

They found Hector and Horace in the cottage cooking dinner under Hazel’s close supervision. Isabel suddenly thought it odd that Hazel seemed to want to be close to the brothers, almost as if her charm spell required proximity. She made a mental note on her way to the table.

The next three days passed slowly for Isabel. She was becoming increasingly anxious to be on her way, but Hazel steadfastly maintained that the soldiers were still camped in the vicinity, apparently believing that Isabel and her friends were hiding in the swamp and choosing to wait them out. Hazel didn’t seem concerned about the matter, going about the business of directing Hector and Horace in nearly a dozen projects around her little sanctuary, from mending the roof of her cottage to tilling compost into several garden plots.

Isabel used the time to teach Ayela everything she could about fighting. Ayela was a quick learner but there was only so much a person could learn in such a short period of time. Isabel focused on drilling a number of basic attacks with a knife, knowing full well that learning how to fight was as much about teaching the mind as it was about teaching the muscles and tendons of the body to perform complex movements in a blink. That took time and practice-a fact that Ayela accepted with resignation after discovering how grueling knife-fighting drills were.

She kept at it though. Isabel admired her dedication and drive. Ayela wanted these skills enough to do the work. Isabel had no doubt she would succeed in becoming quite effective with a blade, just not anytime soon. Mastery took years of work. Isabel had started drilling with the Rangers when she was fourteen and remembered all too well how difficult the exercises could be.

The morning of the next day, Isabel could tell that Ayela wanted to say something but was reluctant. Once Hector and Horace had gone to work under the watchful eye of Hazel, Isabel smiled at Ayela.

“Out with it,” she said.

“I’m so sore,” Ayela said. “Could we take the day off? My body needs to rest.”

“Of course,” Isabel said, chuckling. “I was wondering when all your hard work would catch up with you.”

“Yesterday,” Ayela said, stretching her arms. “I asked Hazel if I could pick some of her plants today and she said yes. You said you wanted to learn how to make blackwort, so why don’t I teach you?”

“All right,” Isabel said. “I’ll be the student today.”

They left the cottage and Ayela led her to the valley wall. “The first ingredient we’ll look for is bluecap,” she said. “It’s a type of mushroom that likes to grow under fallen logs.” She knelt down, peering under a rotting tree trunk and looking at the ground carefully. There were a number of different mushrooms of various shapes and sizes, but all growing in little patches of their own as if they were being cultivated.

“Ah, here we are,” Ayela said, pointing to a small group of mushrooms with long stems and dark bell-shaped caps tinged with an iridescent blue.

“When harvesting bluecaps, it’s important that you don’t touch the cap itself,” Ayela said, carefully cutting the long stem with her knife and pinching the stem against the blade so she could drop the mushroom into a jar without handling the top.

“What happens if you touch the cap?” Isabel asked.

“Most people spend many hours vomiting,” Ayela said. “Some get sick enough to die, but that’s rare.”

“Good to know,” Isabel said.

After picking three bluecaps, Ayela put the lid on the jar and stood up. “Next we need Fly Agaric,” she said. “They tend to grow in the shade of trees.” She pointed to a small grove across the little valley. It suddenly struck Isabel how out of place some of the trees were, given their location. Hazel must have transplanted them and carefully cultivated them since most weren’t native to the jungle.

“Fly Agaric is another type of mushroom. It has a broad red cap with lots of white spots, and the stem and gills are white,” Ayela said. “They tend to grow in small clumps of eight to twelve.”

After a few minutes of searching and discovering several different varieties of fungus, all growing in segregated patches, they found what they were looking for. Ayela unceremoniously plucked the cap from the largest in the bunch and put it into her jar with the bluecaps.