Jeff Crook: Dark Thane

Crystal untied her leather apron and folded it lovingly before stowing it in a wooden chest. “Everything there is made for cutting leather, heavy wool, or mushroom fiber. Auntie needs something with a finer edge for delicate work. As she says, ‘leave it to a mountain dwarf to chop wood with a battleaxe.’ ”

“What sort of delicate work?” Haruk asked. He shut the cover on the portable forge Crystal had set up, then he screwed down the damper to cool the fire within. The chamber grew dark, lit only by a single candle burning on a side table.

“Just some frilly things she wants to finish,” Crystal answered quickly as she bent over and fished the cooled shears from the cooling bucket. She flung them onto a heap of scrap metal. “You know the kind of things she wears. It’s not important. Her heavy shears will have to suffice until my forge skills improve.”

“Aye, Mistress,” Haruk said. He untied the leather cord binding his hair and shook out his full golden mane. Younger than Crystal by thirty years and not yet considered an adult, he was a fine specimen of dwarf youth, already come into his full growth and able to hold his own with more mature fighters in the sparring ring. He sighed and stretched, flexing the muscles of his bare sweaty arms. Crystal smiled appreciatively and crossed the room. In the corner by the door stood two stout lengths of ash wood, polished and ready for fitting with spearheads. She snatched them up and tossed one to the young dwarf. He caught it, his lips peeling back in a fierce grin.

“How about a few rounds before dinner?” Crystal asked.

“Gladly!”

Crystal stabbed the end of her staff into a pile of charcoal, coating it with thick black dust. Haruk did the same, then the two dwarves backed several paces across the chamber to give themselves room to work.

“Spear practice,” Crystal said. “Black touch wins the round. How many rounds?”

“Best of five,” Haruk said.

Grasping her pole at the low quarter, Crystal presented her blackened end, spear-fashion. Haruk dropped into a low guard, the charcoal-dusted end of his staff weaving tight figure eights in the air. Crystal stamped toward him three steps, her staff licking out in rapid feints, which he blocked effectively with the tip of his staff. The two wooden dowels clacked together in a brief staccato that left a cloud of charcoal dust hanging in the air between them. Crystal withdrew, smiling, then shifted to her left and took up a defensive posture.

Suddenly, Haruk bellowed a charge and leaped across the room. She quickly sidestepped his headlong rush, knocked aside the tip of his staff, and dragged her own weapon across his naked bicep as he passed, leaving a black streak across the bulging muscle.

The younger dwarf swore mightily as he returned to his position.

“You fall for that every time, Haruk,” Crystal admonished. “An injury like that is as good as a killing blow. If that had been a real spear, your bicep would be severed and your arm useless.”

“I know, Mistress,” Haruk answered sullenly. He assumed a guarded stance.

Crystal advanced to within a spear’s distance and presented her own weapon, crossing his at the tip. “Begin!” she snapped.

Slowly, they began to circle one another, staff tips crossed and touching at the axis of their circle. Their soft boots scratched on the dusty floor. Haruk lunged, but Crystal pressed the attack aside and countered, driving Haruk back to his original position. They crossed staves again and continued their circle. Haruk’s green eyes danced in the light of the single candle as he sought some weakness in her defense. The tip of her staff dropped almost imperceptibly, and Haruk immediately seized the opportunity, thrusting past it. Crystal slipped below his attack and punched him squarely in the solar plexus with the end of her pole.

Haruk staggered back, gasping for air and nearly dropping his weapon. When he had gathered his breath, Crystal said, “I did that because I know you so well. We’ve practiced together many times, and I knew you would bite the bait I dangled before your nose. It’s easy to draw you into a foolish attack with a simple feint, like a mother bird pretending to have a broken wing. Be still when you fight. Calm your emotions.”

“Uncle Jungor says I should cultivate my emotions,” Haruk said as he rested on his staff. “He says anger and fear will make my reactions quicker and my attacks stronger.”

“Your uncle, the Hylar thane, is a great arena fighter, true,” Crystal said, “but those he faces in the pit are his equals, at the height of their fighting ability, and there are few who could trick him into exposing himself. Yet a great warrior must respect every opponent. You must also learn to fight those who have little military training, for their movements will be unorthodox and unexpected. A great fighter might try to trick you with a feint, but a gully dwarf could do the same by accident and just as easily. Either way, you’re just as dead.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Hurok said.

“Ready?”

Haruk nodded. The smile was gone from his face now. He circled her warily, and Crystal could see her lessons turning over in his mind. He was alert now but relaxed. His movements slipped fluidly from one moment to the next. He was no longer fixed, rigid in his stances. His eyes no longer darted nervously from her weapon to her face and her feet. When he attacked, he almost caught her by surprise. Only a slight shifting of his feet betrayed his intention.

What did surprise her was his method of attack—the same blind spear charge she had beaten a thousand times before. Slipping to the side, she blocked his jab and… a blow to her stomach staggered her. Haruk had reversed it in mid-charge, hiding the movement with a shouting leap. The charcoal-blackened end thudded against her belly even as she, once again, dragged her own weapon across his biceps.

“Mistress!” Haruk cried in surprise, dropping his staff and falling to his knees.

Crystal rubbed her stomach, momentarily frightened by what had happened. Haruk’s blow hadn’t been a hard one, but if it had been a spear, it would have spilled her belly’s contents onto the floor. Haruk kneeled before her in abject apology.

“I never taught you that,” she complained.

“My uncle, Jungor Stonesinger taught it to me. He said I should try it on you. Please forgive my impertinence,” he said, head bowed almost to the floor.

“Stand up,” she said, touching him on the shoulder. “No harm done, I think.” She crossed the chamber and seated herself on an upturned keg. Haruk rose to his feet. “Shall I fetch Auntie?”

“I’m fine,” Crystal sighed. “Come, tell me what your uncle said. You didn’t even try to defend yourself. Yet what you did would have killed me, even as I killed you, had this been a real battle.”

“That’s what Uncle Jungor said,” Haruk said, nodding. “He said that if you cannot defeat your opponent, you should consider sacrificing yourself in order to get close enough to kill him. Thus many a dwarf has bravely died in defense of his homeland.”

“When he has no other choice,” Crystal countered sternly. “When his sacrifice may save the lives of his family or companions. It is the height of folly to throw away your life needlessly. A good fighter also knows when not to fight”

“I understand, Mistress,” Haruk said.

“I’m glad you do, Haruk. Your uncle is wise in his way, and I would not speak against anyone from your family, but he is a hard, uncompromising individual, and he holds with ancient ways and ancient traditions that are no longer always best. The world has changed, as King Tarn has said many times. New times demand new ways.”

“Any word from the king?” Haruk asked.