Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

Eyes on his foe, Saviar made a wild leap for the staircase. The forest of swords followed him, clutched in the hands of eager Renshai. Saviar bounded up, three steps at a time, then whirled to face his opponents on the landing. The other Renshai were on him in an instant, but the closed confines forced them to face him one warrior at a time, the others clamoring and howling on the steps like wolves.

And I'm the bone, Saviar realized, catching the first attack, by Asmiri, on his sword and parrying it harmlessly aside. Asmiri clutched a hilt in each hand, cursing the banister and wall that limited his right arm. Nevertheless, his left-hand strokes came blisteringly quickly, and he even managed a few surprises with the right. Hard-pressed to his defense, Saviar parried, blocked, and dodged without bothering to return an attack. He knew all of his attackers, and it chilled him. Every one had fought in the Pirate Wars, every one had already passed the tests to which he still only aspired; not one would go easy on a young Renshai they still considered a child.

Yet, when an opening came, Saviar seized it. He lunged into a miniscule space between Asmiri's weaving blades, jabbing hard enough to disembowel his opponent. Asmiri managed to dodge, barely, hampered by the Renshai behind him. Saviar's blade stabbed through cloth and grazed skin. Real blood followed its withdrawal, and Saviar paused for an instant, startled.

Saviar's torke always told him to keep his strokes real. Any adult Renshai who could not avoid the most deadly strike of a student deserved to die. It happened occasionally, though never to Saviar, who had not even drawn blood on a torke. "Asmiri, are you all right?"

Asmiri gave him a pale-faced, sour look. "I'm dead, all right?" Unable to properly retreat from the battle, he wilted to the ground in a feigned and awkward swoon. "Keep fighting."

I won! Saviar realized. I actually won. He had no time to revel in his triumph. The horde pressed forward, and Elbirine replaced Asmiri. Lost beneath the swiftly shifting feet, Asmiri worked his way cautiously down the stairs while his companions did their best not to step on him. Lithe, small, and fierce, Elbirine had trained with Kevral. Though approaching middle age, she moved with the quickness of a stooping hawk. "Overconfident, like your mother?"

Forced to leap backward to avoid a stunning strike, Saviar dashed his spine against the stonework. Because of her youth and attitude, Kevral had not been well liked by her classmates. Saviar had to wonder whether she annoyed them as much as Calistin did him. Head ringing, he surged into a slashing over-under combination. "No." He dodged a powerful slice from the small woman. "Just…" He parried. "… confident…" He lunged. "… enough."

A twirling maneuver saved him from a deadly jab, but opened his side momentarily. Steel tore his britches and the covering flesh and bruised his hipbone with enough force to bring unbidden tears to his eyes.

"Not fatal," Elbirine shouted, without giving Saviar any time to recover. She sliced and cut, surging in and out with fine movements so fast they seemed invisible. He managed to dodge or parry every one, at the same time collecting tiny rents and bruises that reminded him how close he had come to losing the battle.

"Come on, knight's son," Elbirine growled, meaning both the talking while fighting, and the words, as insult. By referring to his father, she meant to remind him that he was not all Renshai, but something less. "Get angry."

Saviar wished he could, but his training remained too strong within him. He knew that rage made men careless, the commonest cause for a fall. He did not like Elbirine. The Renshai guardians of Bearn's heirs had come to help him, at Ra-khir's request. Any Renshai would assist one of their own, and no Renshai could resist a battle.Yet, it soon became clear Elbirine wanted him to pay for all the humiliation she had suffered at the hands of his mother, from Kevral's superior skill and her patronizing manner. Saviar knew only that he could not allow Elbirine to best him.

And then, it happened. Saviar rose to a level he had heard about but never before reached. His mind remained free to study his opponent, to scan her every motion; yet his body reacted without the need for thought. All of his training came together in that moment. He did not need to consider a move before he made it. His body instinctively found the perfect maneuver and used it. Every attack had a defense and a counter, and his arms and legs performed them from years of brutal practice.

Elbirine stopped talking; she could no longer afford the distraction or the energy. Engrossed in his task, Saviar could not have formed coherent words had he wished to do so. He found a euphoria he never knew existed. His world became his sword, his excitement a giddy joy that knew no boundaries, his arms and legs carried out flawless Renshai maneuvers without hesitation. This is it! Saviar realized. This is what Valhalla is like. He never wanted the battle to end.

Then, suddenly, Saviar remembered Kedrin's teachings. As he executed a deft maneuver, he added a powerful end stroke that defied Elbirine's parry. She caught the blow hard on her blade, and the force of it stole breath and balance. She tumbled down the stairs. Renshai cleared the way, but not quickly enough. She took three of them with her, landing in a heap on the cobbles, tangled with Asmiri as well.

Wildly excited, Saviar prepared for his next assailant as Kedrin called over the fray. "Stop! Enough!" He pointed a warning finger at the remaining Renshai. "This battle is over."

Halting Renshai in combat was more difficult than reining a galloping horse pursued by wolves. The Renshai on the stairs paused. The ones on the ground sorted themselves in an instant and sprang to their feet. Saviar read attack in many eyes. Any word or quick movement would set them back on him. Slowly, cautiously, he sheathed his sword.

To Saviar's relief the others followed suit.

Kedrin explained, "Saviar has had enough for one day."

Saviar raised his brows to display disagreement. In truth, he wanted to finish the spar. His hip throbbed, his head ached, and he could feel the sweat-sting of several small tears. He could not, however, reveal weakness to other Renshai.

"He needs a good meal and a warm bath before his confrontation tomorrow."

Only then, Saviar realized how much time must have passed. The sun was gone, the courtyard dark.

Acknowledging each Renshai with a nod, so as not to appear to be turning his back on them, Saviar descended the stairs. Elbirine glared, but the others merely gave him a tip of their own heads. Kedrin fixed an angry stare on Ra-khir with an intensity that questioned the younger knight's sanity.

Marisole strummed her lute, then launched into a song of such beauty that the last of the hostility disappeared even from Elbirine's stance. The bard's heir sang of brotherhood, of the lethal grace of Renshai, of the virtues of knowing when a battle has truly ended. Her voice had grown stronger since Saviar had heard it last and her range massive. Each note carried a power that reminded Saviar of Renshai sword strokes and a finesse that defied understanding. If her notes wavered a semitone, he never noticed. She not only heard with perfect pitch, she sang it, every tone falling into its rightful place. And she ended with an invitation for Saviar to join the heirs for dinner.

As the last notes faded, Saviar approached Marisole and took her hands. "I'd love to," he said.

Kedrin interceded. "After he's washed up, of course,Your Grace." He gave the bow Saviar had neglected.

Reclaiming her hands, Marisole answered with a proper curtsy. "Please don't take too long, Savi."

This time, Saviar bowed. His grandfather would have it no other way. Despite his growling gut, he would rather have dropped off to sleep without bothering to eat. Though he looked forward to his too-long postponed meeting with Bearn's heirs, he worried about the necessary conversation regarding Arturo when he felt so battered and exhausted.