The next morning, Callindra awoke later than she had intended. She shuffled out of her room into the common room between her and the boys room in her underthings, feeling a little disoriented. Looking out the window, she saw that the courtyard below was empty of the practicing figures she had seen the day before.

Pulling on rumpled breeches and wrapping her chest tightly, she looked blearily around the room. She found a plate of fruit and ate an apple, core and all while staring down at the practice yard.

“Damn, I didn’t ask how to get there last night.” She muttered, helping herself to a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. “Well nothing for it but to jump.” She grinned, slung her sword belt over her back and leaped out of the window, the winds whipping around her body as she fell.

She landed in the courtyard lightly, whipping Brightfang from his sheath with a flourish. “Awesome, there are even practice dummies!”

“Indeed. What is your name girl?” A low voice sounded behind her.

She spun to face the man, moving her sword into a guard Stance.

“Easy, you are the one intruding upon my practice grounds.” She had seen this man the day before, striding through the drilling acolytes with a severe look on his face. He was the only one who hadn’t been wearing armor, his only protection was a massive shield strapped to his back. The top was almost a foot above his head and the bottom nearly dragged on the ground.

“My apologies sir.” She sheathed her sword with practiced ease. “I meant no offense, I was merely looking for a place to work my morning Korumn.”

His eyebrows rose briefly, then his eyes narrowed slightly. “Show me then.”

Unsure what to make of his scrutiny, she walked to the middle of the courtyard and sat with Brightfang across her knees. Her morning meditation came easily here in spite of the breezes that tickled her neck and played with the ragged ends of her hair.

When the First Korumn was finished, she rose and began moving through the Stances, eyes almost closed, feeling the passage of the air over her body. Brightfang’s tip whistled through the air, as she moved, and she almost missed the slight sound to her right. She jerked him to a stop just before his razor sharp edge cut into her observer’s scalp.

“What are you doing, moving into the line of a practicing sword fighter? Are you mad?” She could feel the energy that she had built in the first half of her practice quivering within her sword.

“Just testing to see if you had any control.” He snorted, “You wouldn’t have had the chance to cut me.” She looked above him to see the bulk of his shield.

“There’s no way you could move that monster fast enough to stop me. It’s on your back!” She said, “You took a serious risk you know, I’m still just an apprentice.”

“Just because it’s on my back doesn’t mean it’s not still protecting me.” He shifted his weight forward and the shield slipped slightly to cover most of his head. With a practiced motion he swung it off his back to land between them with a resounding thud.

“Those moves look pretty polished, but I know from experience that polish isn’t always a good thing. Makes you predictable, which is something you can’t afford to be in a real battle.”

“Look, if you want to spout some lecture save it for your initiates or whatever you call them.” Callindra said, tossing her head irritably, “I just came here to practice. Without practice I get a little too unpredictable.”

A stray wind whipped across the practice grounds, strong enough to set the dummies dancing on their ropes. “I’d rather not waste the morning away with idle chatter.” She said.

He moved to a nearby bench, carrying his shield as though it wasn’t a six foot wall of steel. Instead of sitting, he set the shield down and leaned on it. Callindra gave him a level look, then rolled her eyes and resumed her Stances. The Korumn flowed easily and at the end she felt refreshed, ready for the day and more importantly as though she had managed to put somewhat of a leash on her fractious connection to the Weave.

“Now that dance class is over, let’s spar.” She had forgotten the shield-toting instructor was there, he hadn’t even moved while she was practicing. He had a heavy wooden mallet in one hand and was lifting that monstrous shield with the other.

“Dance class? Big talk for a man hiding behind a castle portcullis!” She stood lightly on the balls of her feet, Brightfang’s edge glittering like a gemstone. “I am Callindra Sol’Estin of Glarian Sol’Estin. I am two years old. The wind hones my edge and guides my steps. My enemies bend before me like reeds before a gale.”

Now she was certain she saw his eyebrows raise, but she was too busy launching an all-out attack to give it any thought. Just as she had predicted, the sheer mass of his tower shield made it nearly impossible for her to reach him. She did manage to put a few notches around the edges and make it ring like a bell though.

The blur of the mallet’s motion was too fast for her to even think about dodging. Her opponent used the bulk of his shield to mask his attack until the last second, the steel bound end of the mallet hit her shoulder like a charging bull, sending her sprawling on the ground. She rolled and came up smoothly to her feet, only to find she had to leap backward to avoid another blow.

How had he closed on her so fast? That shield must weigh as much as a horse but it had been foolish of her to believe carrying it would make him slow. Just as her feet touched the ground, he seemed to appear before her, still running full tilt.

His shield connected with a solid head to toe blow, knocking her flat on her back with the wind rushing from her lungs.
Callindra tried to shake off the shock and pain that dazed her, it was all she could do to roll to one side as she felt more than heard the mallet slam into the turf where her head had just been. Was he truly trying to kill her? The thought made her break out into a cold sweat.

She had to be faster. Rolling to her feet, she was grimly satisfied that all her training had paid off; she still held fast to Brightfang’s hilt. Her opponent was a few feet away, giving her just enough time to act. She ran to her right, circling him as fast as she could, but moving ever closer. Instead of trying to attack, she was waiting for him to make a move.

The instant his right arm was visible, she jumped to the left, completely changing her direction, leaping over his attack and slashing Brightfang in a flashing arc. The head of the mallet was neatly separated from the shaft, Callindra grimaced, she had been aiming for his wrist. She landed lightly and immediately sprinted in the other direction again, dodging the edge of the shield as it slammed into the ground.

She had removed one weapon, but he treated that shield like a much more deadly one. She needed to be more unpredictable. With a madcap grin, she ran toward him, calling up arcane energies from the flat of her blade. Just before she was within range of a shield bash she released a blast of wind that should have knocked him over. Dust exploded in a cloud in the courtyard, making it difficult to see.

Callindra attempted to jump over her opponent, but ended up coming up short and landing on the top edge of his shield. Trying to take advantage of her mistake she brought her sword down, attempting to force him to surrender. To her surprise, a burly hand grabbed her forearm and flung her flat on her back, twisting her wrist as it did so and sending Brightfang tumbling from her grip.

When she had recovered from the brutal full body impact with the ground, she could see the cloud of dust had settled and the man who had so completely defeated her was nowhere to be seen. A group of novices had arrived and were righting racks of weapons and shields, sweeping dirt and dust from a cobbled square and raking the earthen practice grounds smooth.

“What’s your name?” A burly youth in a simple grey smock asked, offering her a hand up.

She back flipped to her feet, landing next to her sword, “Where I come from, it is customary to introduce yourself before asking another’s name.” Picking up Brightfang, she carefully inspected him. The wrapping on his hilt appeared to be a little loose.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be rude. I’m Tam.” He said, “That was quite the show you put on. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone disarm the Sargent before.”

“You all use blunt weapons, it would be difficult for you. Besides, I missed. I was aiming for his arm.” She saw the shock register on his face, “I’m Callindra.”

“Ca lin drah?” He seemed to be rolling her name around in his mouth, “Callindra, why were you trying to cut the Sargent’s arm off?”

“He was trying to kill me Tam. If I hadn’t rolled away… I swear, that mallet came within inches of my head.”

Tam chuckled, “You aren’t the first to mistake his actions for killing intent. He just wanted you to stop holding back. How did you do that anyway?”

He gestured to the general disarray of the courtyard, overturned benches, spilled weapon racks and now she saw trenches on either side of a section of untouched ground. Her blast of wind hadn’t managed to dislodge her opponent and instead had been deflected around his shield, carving twin trenches in the packed earth of the practice ground and destroying the neat order of the equipment along the walls.

“Northwind style.” She said shortly, it had been reckless for her to use magic in a city as large as this one. Tam looked at her a little askance, but before he could comment further she asked, “Is there a bath somewhere around here? I need to clean up, we’re leaving today and Gods know when I’ll be able to bathe again.”

“Yeah, if you help me rake I’ll show you where it is.” He said with a grin.

“Fine. I guess it’s my mess anyway.” She sheathed Brightfang stiffly, her left shoulder was going to be one big bruise from that mallet strike. At least the bone hadn’t broken, though from the way it felt it had been a near miss.

Taking a loose toothed rake from the wall, she helped Tam level the grounds. In about a half hour they had smoothed out the worst of it and left two other apprentices to sprinkle water and pack it with large stone rollers.

“Bath is through here.” Tam said, walking in to a large changing area. There was no door on the entrance and Callindra could see a few men and women with damp hair getting dressed. Huh, a mixed bath.

She wasn’t wearing much, just her chest wrap, over shirt and under breeches and it only took her a few moments to disrobe. There were cubbies for personal effects, and she folded her clothes and laid her sheathed sword on top, wrapped in his baldric.

“I wish I had brought a change of clothes.” She muttered, then turned toward the bath. Tam was staring at her wide eyed.

“What?” She asked, looking at the mixed company in the changing room. “Never seen a naked girl before?”

“I – uh” he blushed, “I thought you were a boy. Sorry.”

Callindra shrugged, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She sat on a wooden stool and scrubbed the dirt and sweat away, trying to ignore Tam’s scrutiny, before rinsing and padding to the wide pool of steaming water for a good hot soak. Now that she was covered in water up to her neck Tam seemed a little less awkward.

“So you’re a sword fighter eh? That’s pretty cool.”

“Mmm.” The water must have soothing herbs or minerals or something in it, Callindra could feel the pain of her shoulder and her other scrapes and bruises easing.

“You must have seen quite a bit of action. Because of all your scars I mean.”

“Most of those are from training, the ones that aren’t from whippings when I was a kid anyway. But the biggest ones are from the road. Kobolds.” She raised her leg out of the water to point to the newly healed shallow cut that ran across her thigh.

“Whoa, that looks nasty.” He said, then his brow furrowed, “Your master gave you scars? What the hell kind of training is that?”

Callindra smirked and sunk back into the water. “My training wounds were all self-inflicted. Learning to wield a sword is a lot different that learning to use a hammer, and learning this fighting style is even more dangerous than normal swordplay. It suits my reckless nature, or at least that’s what I’ve always thought.” Well that’s what Glarian had always jokingly said. Thinking of him gave her a pang of loneliness.

She sat and soaked, mumbling answers to Tam’s curious questions and breathing in the thick steam that rose from the water. At the edge of hearing she could discern a voice, layered with disdain.

“-believe he is sending these children on a mission of this import!” This voice was high to the point of being shrill.

“Who else is there? We need the experienced hands we have here to train the initiates and the rest of our able bodied fighters who could be trusted with this task are currently committed to the field.” This voice was low, almost too quiet for her to hear.

“It’s better not to send anyone than to send these untried kids. The risk that they will ruin any further communication with the ancients is more than we can afford.”

“I disagree. They have definite potential. I tested one of them today as a matter of fact; she’s reckless, disrespectful and dangerous.” The voice paused, “But she has more strength in her than she knows.”

“Master Sergeant, I cannot condone-“

“Nobody is asking for your permission Deacon. It has been decided. The Biscop has spoken.”

The voices drifted off and Callindra felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the water. He thought she had potential did he? She grinned, “Well I had better get back to my companions. I’m sure if I don’t return soon they won’t let me eat before we leave for the ruins of Lin Lamorak.”

“Lin Lamorak?” Tam goggled at her, “Wait, you’re with … you are traveling with The Te’Chern?”

“Yeah, Tryst recruited us in Thornehold. I gather we just had to come here to get the instructions from the biscuit or whatever himself.” She stretched languidly. “Damn they put something in this water don’t they? It’s so relaxing.”

“You’re traveling with The Te’Chern?” His voice rose an octave, “I don’t believe it! I – uh no disrespect for making you help out there. I didn’t know who you were and…”

“What? That? It was nothing, this bath was totally worth the effort.”

“Do you have spare clothing? I will get your spare clothing, and make sure your soiled clothes are washed before you leave.” He scrambled out of the bath, “Just stay here and I’ll be right back. I’ll be right back.”

Callindra watched him rush out of the room, barely stopping to grab a towel on the way. Priests were weird she decided, even warrior priests. She soaked for a while, letting the water work its magic on her sore muscles and then reluctantly exited the pool, drying herself with a rough towel and padding back to the locker area.

Tam had taken her clothes but left a clean robe underneath Brightfang. She shrugged into it with an indifferent sigh and wondered how the hells she was going to get back to her room. She sighed again, deciding there was nothing to do but wait for Tam to return.

In a few minutes he came back into the room at a run, carrying a bundle of things in his hands. “Sorry it took so long, when I went to your room your … brother? gave me the supplies you asked for and your armor too.”

He set down a tall pair of boots, a set of thick leather greaves for her thighs along with her breastplate and a pile of clothes.
“Thanks Tam. He’s not my brother, unless brother in arms counts though.” She took off the robe and began dressing. The boots were a surprisingly good fit, they had a half dozen buckles that kept them tight to her calves all the way up to the knee the greaves felt strange on her thighs but didn’t seem to impede her movement as she had feared they might.
“Can you get this buckle?” Callindra asked, motioning to one of the sides of her breastplate, “It’s a pain in the ass to get completely tight.”

Tam hesitated but cinched her armor tight, his eyes going slightly wide. “Do you need anything else?”

“Just directions to my room. I sorta jumped out the window instead of using the stairs this morning.” She said, fastening her baldric over her shoulder and smiling at the shocked look on his face.

“But. Your room is on the third floor.”

“Really? It didn’t seem that high up to me.” She said with a grin, “Can you show me the way?”

“Uh yeah.” He turned and hurried into the building with her following close behind.

The City of Arkasia was much larger than Callindra thought possible.  The wall was visible from miles away and there were quite a few carriages and wagons on the road as well as other horses and a multitude of foot traffic.  In spite of all the travelers the traffic barely slowed at the gate.  A system of checking wagons and processing visitors allowed efficient entry without impeding the majority of them.

It only took a few minutes to give names, origin, destination and duration of stay.  Tryst handled the majority of the questions and all the others had to give were their names.  Inside the gate was a scene of chaos, throngs of people selling everything hungry, thirsty, tired travelers might want, sedan chairs being carried by well-muscled footmen, men and women in livery hurrying about on some errand or another for their House.

The noise was deafening and had it not been for Tryst’s sure knowledge of his destination and single-minded determination to reach it they would surely have been swept into the crowd and separated.  After the initial crush, the people thinned out and they were able to re-mount their horses.  They wound their way through the streets at a trot and arrived at a towering cathedral built from huge basalt blocks.

There was a large courtyard but no gate or fence.  Tryst handed the reins of his horse to a waiting stable boy and walked straight through the open front door.  “Tryst Te’Chern to see Biscop Mida.” He said to the first acolyte he came upon.  The unfortunate boy stared at the mountain of chainmaile and gaped in open-mouthed awe.

“Te’Chern?  THE Te’Chern?”

“The Biscop is engaged in a meeting with his advisors at the moment.” A man with greying hair, “You may wait for him in the antechamber.” He wore a simple robe but Tryst bowed in deference.

“As you wish Sir.  Do not trouble yourself, I know the way.”

He led them down a long hallway and through a plain wooden door.  A simple oak table had bread, fruit, salted pork and wine laid out for them to eat.

“THE Te’Chern?” Cronos asked, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“I may have made a bit of a name for myself in the academy.” He replied with a hint of chagrin, “Think nothing of it.”

Callindra sat at the table and poured herself a cup of wine.  It was cool and soothing on the back of her throat.  She loosened the straps on her armor and leaned back in her chair, looking around the room with idle curiosity.

In spite of the size of the cathedral, this room wasn’t all that much larger than the ones she had seen in the much smaller church in Thornehold.  The windows were tall, narrow slits with steel shutters that could be closed against weather or attack but still left ample room for an archer to fire from.  What reason could anyone have to build such a defensible structure in the middle of a large city?

“This was one of the first buildings to be completed when this area was first settled.” Tryst said, noticing her taking account of the militant construction of the room.  “We are also an Order that strives to uphold justice and peace, defending the weak and protecting the defenseless so much of our training revolves around combat.  The austere aspect of the building quickly winnows out those looking for a life of ease among the Priesthood.”

“Well-spoken young Te’Chern.”  A deep voice spoke from the hallway as a short, thick man entered.  He was barrel-chested and his arms were the size of Callindra’s waist.  His robes were the same rough woven wool that every other priest she had seen wore; however he wore a richly embroidered alb around his shoulders.

Tryst started, then turned and dropped to one knee.  “Lord Biscop, may I please have your blessing?”

The Biscop placed one hand on Tryst’s head and the other on the rim of his shield, “An arm to defend.  A mind to discern.  We offer Sanctuary of body and soul in a world of chaos.  May your arm be swift and your mind strong.”

He turned to the rest of them with a quizzical look on his face, “So these warriors have agreed to join you and complete the task I have set you to?”

“We agreed to hear you out anyway.” Cronos said, looking up from where he slumped at the table.  “Nobody’s said more than that yet.”

“The news I share with you is grave indeed.” He turned to face Cronos, “We began feeling a disturbance some time ago.  The Gods were restless, which is never a good thing and after a time we became aware that the followers of Gode had ceased to have their prayers answered by their God.”

“What?” Tryst sprang to his feet from where he had been kneeling, “How is that possible?  If the God of Creation is no more, then Onde can destroy everything!”

“Calm yourself child, if Gode was indeed gone we would cease to be.  This is not a problem that will end all of creation; it is merely a problem that faces us here in this realm.”  He paused and shook his head gravely, “Although the further a stone begins rolling downhill the more difficult it is to stop.  Tryst, you and your companions must find the remnants of the Lost Order.  Only they have the knowledge needed to re-establish contact with Gode.”

“Sounds interesting.  What’s in it for me though?” Asked Vilhylm.

“Your needs will be provided for along with suitable reward upon completion of your task.” The Biscop said, “We offer each of you the sum of one thousand pieces of gold for returning with the information we need.”

Callindra gaped in disbelief, she could buy a farm or a business, she could live comfortably for years.  More importantly she could finance her journey to find Glarian easily with that kind of money. “Done.” She said as soon as she recovered her composure.

After a few moments the others also voiced their assent.

“Excellent.” The Biscop said, “Now you will need to keep the horses lent from our Brothers in the south, we can ensure you have rations for the trail and coin for re-supplying.  Do any of you require armor or armaments?”

“I could use some greaves to complete my leather.”  Callindra said, “But Brightfang is all the weapon I need.”

“You don’t have anything I could use.” Vilhylm said, “Thank you for offering though.”

“A brace of daggers wouldn’t hurt.”  Cronos said, “I wouldn’t mind a chain shirt too if you can spare it.”

“I will have someone show you to your rooms then and make sure that your requests are fulfilled before you leave in the morning.”  The Biscop clapped his hands and a pair of figures wearing identical gray robes with the hoods pulled over their faces entered, beckoning them to follow.  “Tryst will be along shortly, he and I have some Church business to attend to.”

Callindra followed the robed figures to a room that could have been the exact same one she had slept in while in Thornehold other than the window looked out on a practice yard instead of a busy street.  Dozens of figures drilled with hammers and shields under the watchful eyes of several armored men.

There was a pitcher of chilled white wine and a plate of bread on the table in the common room and two separate sleeping quarters.  Feeling tired from her long time on the road, Callindra found a bath, then a bed.

The group had spent five days riding and thankfully had not seen any more trouble.  The sun was close to setting and they were approaching a small town.  Callindra seemed to remember Tryst calling it Gomreed apparently after the name of the grasses that grew at the edge of the lake from which many of the townsfolk made their living.

While Vilhylm and Cronos went to find lodging, Callindra and Tryst asked directions to the constable so that they might report the trouble they’d had with Kobolds.  Although it had been seven days this was the first place that had someone who would be able to send word to a Lord and Tryst was adamant that someone of authority be notified.

The cut on her thigh was healing nicely thanks to an ointment Tryst had given her, but it still itched bad enough to make her irritable.  After days in the saddle and sleeping on the ground at night Callindra was ready for a hot bath and a real bed, but Tryst insisted on seeing the constable before they secured lodgings.  She would have let him go on his own but he had asked her to accompany him.

“Callindra, I would welcome your input when reporting this matter to the authorities.” He had said, “I think you would give good perspective if they ask specific questions.  I am less skilled in tactics and warfare than you are.”

It was flattering and she agreed to go, in spite of her desire to slip into a hot bath.  As they made their way through the hard packed dirt streets of Gomreed, Callindra noticed they were attracting a lot of attention.  Some even went as far as to shutter windows and bar doors.

“Do you think there has been trouble here lately?  I don’t remember villagers being this fearful before, do you Tryst?” She asked.

“It just depends on where you go Callindra, every village is different.  Some fear outsiders and others welcome them.”  He sounded exhausted, worn to the limit.

They entered a business district with shops and a few taverns with music pouring out of their doorways. “Well either way let’s just find their magistrate or whatever and get to the inn.  My skin feels like it’s going to crawl away and I’m really looking forward to a hot meal.”  The familiar scent of tac touched her nostrils and she turned her head to find the source.  A small store was nestled between a pair of taverns, the sign above the door read ‘The Dry House’ and a man stood outside smoking a long stemmed pipe.

“Pardon me sir, would you know the way to the local constable?” Callindra said with a smile.  “We have something to report.”

“Run into trouble on the road?” He said, blowing a large smoke ring.  An errant breeze blew it spiraling erratically over their heads, although strangely enough it kept its shape.

“Something like that.  My name’s Callindra, this is my traveling companion Tryst.” She said, extending her hand.

“Fredrick.” He said, firmly shaking her hand, “The local magistrate’s office is just down the road on the right, you can’t miss the sign hanging over the street.  It’s a noose with a raven flying overhead.  Stop by on your way back, I can tell you’re interested in my wares.” He smiled and released her hand.

“Thanks Fredrick, maybe I will.” She said, “The smell brings back some memories I don’t want to lose.”

“Good luck.”

They continued down the street and soon saw the aforementioned sign.  Tryst stopped in the doorway, “Excuse me, is this the office of the Magistrate?”

A large man wearing a doublet stained with rust from armor came to the door.  “Yeah yeah, what is it now?”  He grumbled, “Someone had better be murdered.”

“I apologize sir, allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Tryst Te’Chern and this is my traveling companion Callindra.”  Tryst said, “I wish to report that a caravan was waylaid along the road approximately one sennight ago by kobolds.  There were no survivors.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”  He asked, “Out of my jurisdiction.  I don’t have any sway along the road, let alone the manpower even if I did have the authority.”

“Well as to that, we dealt with the problem.” Tryst said, “I just wanted to have the influx of those creatures to be reported to someone of authority.”

“Then why are you telling me?  If the problem’s solved then there’s even less I can do about it.”  He said, turning to go back into the building.

“Sir!” Tryst burst out, causing him to pause.

“Was there something else?  I have my dinner waiting inside and a tankard of good ale that’s getting flat.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience sir but could you please pass along messages to the Lords of nearby Holdings if I pen it out tonight?  It would carry more weight coming from a local Magistrate.”  Tryst almost managed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“Fine.” The Magistrate said and slammed the door in Tryst’s face.

“That fat, worthless…” Tryst took a deep breath, “He’s a disgrace to his position.”

“Come on Tryst, let’s go get a drink and some rest.” Said Callindra, reaching out to touch his elbow.

–

The bath was wonderful.  It was a wide, deep copper affair, set before a roaring fire in a tiled room.  A bottle of chilled wine sat within arm’s reach and there was an attendant with strong fingers to rub scented oils into her scalp and tense shoulder muscles.

“Can I get you aught else Miss?” The maid asked, setting down a thick robe next to the tub.

“Mmmm?”  Callindra raised her head slightly, “No, this is heaven.”

“You really a warrior?”

“Huh?”  Callindra reached for her wine glass and took a drink, “What’s your name?”

“Donna Miss.”

“Please call me Callindra Donna, Miss doesn’t quite fit.” She grinned and drained her goblet, “Yes I am a warrior, why?”

“Well, I never seen a woman what used a sword before.” Donna said, glancing at the sheathed Brightfang who lay within easy reach of Callindra’s right hand.  “Why you keep it so close?  Ain’t like someone gonna attack you here.”

“Brightfang isn’t just a sword Donna, he is my companion.” She smiled at the confused look on the woman’s face, “He is my friend who will never betray me as long as I stay true to him.  We are bonded.”

“Oh.” Donna gave her a direct, doubtful look, “That mean you don’t like men?”

“What?”  Callindra burst out laughing, “No, it just means that I don’t have to worry about anyone taking advantage of me, man woman or monster.”

Callindra’s laughter was infectious and the maid laughed along with her, “Sounds lonely, I wouldn’t mind that knight with the hammer takin advantage of me.”

“Knight?  Oh you mean Tryst?  He’s a priest, although I don’t know if his order is a chaste one or not.”  Callindra shrugged, “He’s pretty enough if you like that sort of thing.  I guess I never gave it much thought.”

She stood and Donna gasped, “Gods; that wound!” She exclaimed, pointing at the newly healed gash across her thigh.

“Yeah, it was a pretty nasty one.” Callindra said with a shrug, “It’s healing well though, mostly thanks to Tryst’s skills.  This one hurt too.” She said pointing to a long shallow scar across her rib cage, “Without my armor it might have killed me.”

“So many scars…” Donna’s voice trailed off as she saw the myriad of thin lines that crisscrossed her arms. “How you get em?  How old are you anyway?”

“I’m eighteen.  Most of these are from training, many are ones I gave myself.  Learning to wield a sword isn’t without its hazards.”

“Eighteen?  My younger sister’s eighteen, she’s been settled for near two years now.  Has the sweetest pair of boys you ever seen.”  Donna glanced over Callindra’s lean, muscled form and decided to stop talking about babies.

“Donna I wonder if you could get a couple pairs of men’s breeches that would fit me?  Maybe a shirt too.  I could do with some extra clothes.”

“Sure, no trouble.” Said Donna, “Well I best get to work.  Good ta meet you Callindra, I’ll bring the clothes you wanted up when we get em.  Should be with breakfast.”

Callindra regretfully looked at the empty wine bottle, but knew she should stick to water lest her head get the better of her the next morning.  She sighed, wrapped the robe Donna had left around herself, picked up Brightfang and made her way up to her room.

–

The next morning when Callindra woke she could hear the maids moving through the hallways.  Opening the door she found her new clothes folded and sitting outside her door just as Donna had promised alongside a tray with three small grilled fish, a pitcher of milk and half a loaf of bread so fresh it was still warm to the touch.

She dressed quickly and only paused to buckle Brightfang on over her tunic and grab the loaf of bread before heading out into the street, making her way back to The Dry House.  It had been a long time since she had smelled the particular blend of tac that Glarian used to smoke, but yesterday the scent had been strong.

When she arrived, Fredrick was just opening his shop.  A pot of strong tea was brewing over a small coal stove just inside the door and a heavy loaf of bread similar to the one she had consumed on the way here sat next to it.

“Ahhh… Callindra wasn’t it?” He said, looking up as she approached.

“Fredrick, I am interested in that blend you were smoking yesterday.”  She said, “I think it was an old friend’s favorite blend and the scent really brought back some pleasant memories.”

“You’re here very early my dear.  Why don’t you sit and have a cup of tea with me.  You can tell me of your travels and then we can talk business.”  He gestured to a pair of chairs outside the shop door with a steaming cup of tea.

“Thanks.” She said, sitting across the door from him.  “I’m not sure how much time I’ll actually have to chat though.  I need to stretch and practice before my party awakens.  I’m afraid we will be leaving today.”

“Tell me about this friend of yours at least then.”  He said, blowing on his tea to cool it, “It’s not just anyone who smokes Carilan Imperalus you know.”

“He saved my life.”  She sipped her tea and found it to be harsh and bitter, “I guess I don’t know much about him really.  As sad as it seems, we lived together for years and I never took the time to ask about his life.  I always thought there would be more time.  I won’t make that mistake again.”

Fredrick gave her a quizzical look over the rim of his teacup.  “That particular blend is one favored by the Keld’Ima.”  When she didn’t react he added, “The King’s personal bodyguards.”

Callindra laughed, a breeze swirling around her and playfully tickling the back of her neck, “I’m pretty sure he wasn’t a bodyguard.  He lacks any real desire to take orders I think.  Besides you don’t seem the type either but I certainly smelled it coming out of your pipe yesterday evening.”

“True enough.” He said with a grin, “I acquired a taste for the Imperalus blends years ago.  Strong yet subtle, just the right balance of aroma and body.  I don’t know what the curing process is but it takes time and skill.  Your friend, whoever he is, has good taste.”

He rose and walked into the shop, refilling his teacup then making his way behind a counter to a wall set with a myriad of small doors from floor to ceiling.  He opened one and slid a drawer out, selecting a sealed leather pouch before closing it firmly again.

“Here you are, twenty silver for a packet of memories.”

Callindra balked slightly, her room for the night had only cost half that.  “Gods, I’ll need a pipe and flint as well at that price.”

“Consider it done.” He took a long, narrow box from beneath the counter and took a slender pipe with a long stem from it.  She could see delicate carvings of flowering vines all down the stem and around the bowl.  “This should fit your character quite nicely.”

She was about to protest until she saw the vines were climbing roses with thorns clearly defined.  “I suppose it does at that.  The next time I’m in town I will take the time to sit and share some stories of the road.”

Fredrick smiled and gave her a small bow from the waist, “I look forward to it Callindra.”

Callindra returned to the room just in time to find Tryst setting out breakfast. Porridge and fruit with fresh baked bread, humble fare but filling and flavorful.
“Good, you’re back.” He said in greeting, “Come, break your fast and we will speak of the day to come. We will leave by the postern gate under my banner. Unless there is any reason to expect delay it should take us a fortnight to reach the Cathedral. Once there we will meet the Biscop and he will give us his blessing and the particulars of our mission.”

She set to with a will having worked up an appetite with her morning practice. “What are the travel conditions like around here?”

“Probably much the same as when you arrived.” Said Cronos, giving her a confused look.

“Yeah. I suppose.” She said around a mouthful of bread.

“The Lords do a fairly good job of keeping the road free of bandits and the like. Much of the upkeep of the surface itself is undertaken by locals who wish merchants to be able to easily pass by their farms and holdings.” Said Tryst, “I do not know about travel to the North and West but I would imagine the main trade route between the Capitol and Holding as large as Duke Gladthorne’s would be well protected and properly maintained.”

“Now all we have to worry about is making a graceful exit from this city.” Said Vilhylm, “I gather I’m not the only one who is leaving ahead of some… unwanted attention?” He looked pointedly at Callindra.

“When we are finished here we can leave by the postern gate. It should not be much of a challenge, we will be under my banner.” Tryst said. “The monks here have been kind enough to lend me horses for those of you who do not own one.”

–

True to his word, Tryst led his small group of warriors through the quiet morning streets and out the west gate without incident. Once on the road, Callindra discovered she had little skill with and less love for horse travel. The animal seemed to lurch in an ungainly fashion; she was forced to grip its wide barrel with her legs to keep her seat.

She was sure her inner thighs would be rubbed raw by the time they reached their destination. Her skirt was far too short to offer any protection and straddling the animal revealed a startling amount of leg. Too much even for the demands of her minimal modesty.

When they stopped for the midday meal, she gladly dismounted and stiffly stretched sore muscles. When she looked up she could see Vilhylm eyeing her horse with a questioning look on his face.

“What?” She said irritably rubbing her sore backside.

“I think your stirrups are a little too long.” He said, reaching out to adjust the buckles. “That should help a bit. I don’t think those priests are very familiar with riding further than the market or perhaps out to some of the outlying farms.”

Callindra stared at him for a moment, and then nodded in appreciation. “Thanks, I don’t know much about horses.”

“I’ve been living on the road for a long time. You pick up some things out of necessity.” He said, “You need to take the saddle off and walk him a bit before you water him, otherwise he might strain a muscle in the afternoon.”

Vilhylm showed her the basics of caring for the animal before they took some time to toast some bread and cheese over a small fire. Accompanied by a savory sausage and some wrinkled apples it made a good lunch.

They had saddled up and ridden for about an hour, thanks to Vilhylm’s modifications to her stirrup length a much more comfortable hour, when a thin column of smoke became visible ahead.

“That looks too large to be a campfire.” Said Callindra.

“Too dark, there’s cloth and leather burning in that fire.” Said Vilhylm, looking critically at the smoke, “I think we should prepare for trouble.” He paused and pulled a strangely carved mask from inside his cloak. Callindra could see several others in large pockets before his cloak covered them again.

Tryst was tightening the straps on his armor and Cronos was muttering an arcane incantation. Callindra shrugged and loosened Brightfang in his sheath.

“We should leave the horses here, out of danger.” Tryst said, “Unless any of you prefer to fight from horseback?”

They tied their animals to pickets in a small meadow a short distance from the road and continued on foot. Once they had topped a small rise, Callindra could see a scene of destruction displayed out in front of her. A small caravan lay in disarray, some wagons were burning, some turned on their sides, crates were smashed open and corpses lay strewn about.

Tryst rushed forward, checking the bodies for any signs of life. Callindra was appalled by the carnage; she had never imagined a human body could contain so much blood. Cronos didn’t even seem to notice the dead, walking past a caravan driver with his head nearly hacked off without batting an eyelash. Vilhylm plucked an arrow shaft from one of the caravans and examined it.

“Looks like Kobolds, not a human raiding party. Isn’t it strange for them to be this far south?” He said, “I thought they were mostly contained in the mountains and foothills.”

“They did a thorough job here.” Tryst said sadly, “No survivors.”

Callindra turned away from the carnage, towards the wooded hills. A light gust of wind moved the branches of the trees and she saw the outlines of small shapes. “Ware the hills!” Was all she managed before black fletched arrows filled the air.

Arrows struck the thick leather of her armor; others struck the caravans behind and the ground around her. With a steely rustle, she drew Brightfang from his sheath and whirled him in a complex series of arcs, harnessing the Weave and releasing a blast of wind that scattered the rest of the incoming shafts off course. The creatures ran from the cover of the trees, brandishing mostly clubs and rusted daggers, Callindra smiled and ran to meet their charge.

She glided through the incoming creatures, Brightfang sliding beneath the clumsy defense the first attempted and severing its arm. Adrenaline raged through her veins and her training took over. Callindra sidestepped an inept strike and lashed out, opening a terrible gash across the green skinned monster’s chest.

She could see Vilhylm’s black cloaked form slam into the charging Kobold’s and glanced in shock. The wooden mask on his face seemed to move as though it was part of his skin. His arms and shoulders were massively muscled and he used his hands as well as his feet to run and then pounce on one of the creatures with savage force.

“On your back!” Shouted Cronos, and Callindra could feel him close behind her. Thankful that she wouldn’t need to worry about an attack from behind, she focused on the foes in front.

The battle was short and brutal, the half-sized creatures had not the skills or the weapons to stand against their better trained and armed opponents. Although it seemed to last for hours, the fight took no more than minutes, leaving Callindra and her companions standing over their fallen foes, breathing heavily and bleeding from minor wounds.

“Is anyone badly hurt?” Tryst looked them over, concern evident on his face.

“I’m fine. I’ve had a lot worse.” Said Vilhylm, shrugging off any injuries he might be hiding under his black cloak.

“I have wounds that need dressing, but nothing serious.” Callindra said, gesturing to a particularly deep cut on her thigh with a wince. The adrenaline was wearing off and the pain of her injuries was beginning to surface.

“What do you think brought these monsters so far out of their normal range?” She looked around at the dead Kobolds and then at the dark blood that still clung to her sword blade and drew a shuddering breath, trying to calm her nerves.

“I don’t know, but it bodes ill.” Said Cronos, displaying more knowledge of the world than one so young normally would. “Likely it’s related to something worse inhabiting their caves.”

Callindra cleaned Brightfang on the canvas of one of the caravans, careful not to leave any of the acrid blood on the steel and tried to stop her hands from shaking. The others were still discussing the portent of the Kobolds presence but she couldn’t hear them anymore. How could anyone treat killing so casually? The reality of having just taken the lives of so many living beings rocked her to the core.

A hand fell on her shoulder, jolting her back to herself. “Are you OK Callindra?” Tryst asked.

“I just…” She took a deep breath, “That was my first battle. The first time I ever killed with my sword. It was not as I had imagined.”

“When it gets easier is when you should question yourself.” He said with a sad smile, “I am conflicted any time I’m forced to raise my hammer to do violence upon another. That hesitation has nearly cost me my life more than once, but that risk is worth the preservation of my humanity.”

“I fear we may not have the luxury of hesitation if fell things are invading the world of men.” Vilhylm said, walking over to where they sat. “The lives of many may well depend on our swift and decisive action.”

“I will always strive to uphold the First Oath my master taught me.” Callindra said, “Battle shall always be my last resort. My honor belongs to those weaker than myself. The edge of my sword stands against the Unlawful. Always seek peace, equilibrium in the world mirroring the balance of my blade. The wind blows impartially on sea and wildfire, on forest and mountain, bringing the seasons to pass. I am as the wind.”

“Those are flowery words girl, but try and apply that when facing a mob of angry villagers who blame you for something that’s gone wrong.” Sneered Cronos, “Besides, don’t you think these are weaker than you?” He said, kicking one of the Kobold corpses.

“There’s nothing wrong with having ideals as long as you don’t let them get you killed.” Said Vilhylm.

“I have been the weakest before; I know what it’s like on the bottom. None of you have any idea what it’s like to be a girl working in a Lord’s Holding.” Callindra retorted, “I won’t abuse what I have been given, nor will I allow others to do so if it’s within my power to stop them. These creatures slaughtered an innocent caravan not to mention they attacked us without provocation, their actions forfeit the peace of the First Oath.”

Cronos gave her a critical look, “Just don’t put your ideas about justice before my life; I don’t share your ridiculous optimism about the world.” He spun on his heel and walked back towards where the horses were tethered.

Vilhylm looked after his retreating form, “I’ve been here before Callindra and I’ve been where you are also. I admire your convictions. I wish I still shared them.”

“Someone has to; otherwise what’s the point of being alive?” She sheathed Brightfang with practiced ease.

“I trust you won’t turn up your nose at the spoils of battle?” He asked holding out a small pouch, “Those Kobolds had a bit of silver on them. It’s not much but we all have needs. That armor of yours will need to be repaired after today at very least.”

She took the pouch and held it in her hand. “This was likely the property of these caravan drivers recently. It probably belongs to their families.”

“There’s no way of knowing that now.” Vilhylm said, “If you want to survive you are going to have to think of yourself eventually. It’s impossible to always put others first Callindra.”

“I will accept this, but there are more important things than money.” Callindra said, tying the pouch to her belt, “I fought back to back with Cronos today. He treated me like an equal on the battlefield, you all did. I don’t know if I can explain what that means to me other than to say I will lay down my life to protect you.”

“Well said Callindra, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Tryst said with a wry smile.

The official repeated the rules in a bored voice and once again stepped aside and allowed their contest to begin.  Genric immediately pressed the attack and Callindra was only barely able to dodge to one side in order to avoid being hit.  The rapid strikes didn’t cease, she found herself desperately defending from swing after swing, completely unable to return even one single attack.  Just when she was backed up to the edge of the ring, Callindra saw an opening in his uninterrupted series of attacks.

Dropping to one knee, she swung her practice lath sword to connect soundly with Genric’s ribs.  Moments later, his sword slammed into her left shoulder.  She bit back a cry of pain; he had nearly broken her collarbone.  But how had he managed to strike such a blow with a loosely tied bundle of lath?

She rolled sideways and came up in a defensive crouch.  The answer was clear when she saw the look in Genric’s face; his practice sword had a steel core.  Callindra’s mouth thinned into an angry line, there was no way she was going to give up when facing someone who resorted to breaking the rules to win.  This called for drastic measures.

Rising from her crouch, she assumed the Earth and Sky Stance, left hand nearly touching the ground sword pointing towards the heavens.  She looked him straight in the face, “You have talent Genric, why in the nine hells would you lower yourself to this?”

“You know little about the world girl.  I can take no chances.”

“Even with your preparations you will fail.  Doubting your own skills shall be your undoing.”  She held the awkward Stance perfectly, knowing it would allow her to explode into action without warning the instant an opening presented itself.  Either Genric was familiar with the Stance or it confused him because he kept a safe distance, circling her slowly.

Callindra altered her footing slightly in order to keep him in her threat range.  She faltered slightly when her right foot encountered a rock and Genric sprang forward, swinging his sword at her head with a snarl.  In near panic, Callindra swept her practice blade in a wild arc from the apex, nearly scraping the ground and coming into shattering contact with the steel-cored sword threatening to fracture her skull.

Instead of merely breaking apart, her sword exploded, an unexpected and uncontrolled burst of Weave breaking free as a result of her panicked loss of control.  Slivers of lath flew in all directions from the epicenter of contact, showering everyone sitting around the ring.  Genric’s lath sword didn’t fare any better and the steel core was revealed as it flew from his grip to fall in the sand, bent at an angle where the power of her strike had bent it.  Hardly anyone seemed to notice it shining in the sunlight.

“What in the name of Gode was that?” Asked the official.

“You have the gall to accuse me of being dishonest?” Genric said incredulously, “That power… I would kill for that kind of power.”

Callindra looked around and saw the glow of Weave surrounding a man in robes who was making his way towards the ring.  Without thinking, she ran to the edge of the ring, snatched Brightfang from where he sat leaning against the low bench and sprinted out of the courtyard.  The sound of confusion erupted from behind her as she fled into the afternoon traffic outside the gate.

–

The door to the cathedral building where she had last seen Tryst was still thankfully open.  Callindra burst through, surprising some men in rough robes as she ran inside, breathing heavily from her mad dash.

“Do you know if Tryst is around?”  She managed, catching her breath.

“Slowly child, this is a place of rest and peace.”  One of the men said, reaching a hand towards her shoulder.

Callindra slid sideways, avoiding his touch.  “I need to find Tryst Te’Chern.  I believe he was going to leave tomorrow morning.  I’d like to join him.”

“Come, sit for a moment and I will see if young Tryst can be found.” The monk said, leading her back to the public area she had sat in before.  She let him settle her at a table with a mug of sweet white wine.  After he had gone, she shifted to have her back to the wall and waited nervously.

People came and went, largely dressed in the simple robes of monks although she could tell some of them had military background by their bearing.  None gave her more than a passing glance though and gradually she began to relax.  Her wine cup was empty by the time she was joined by Tryst.

“So, you’ve come back?”  He asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Yes.  I’ve decided I want to leave with you tomorrow.” Callindra said.

“Whatever trouble you have gotten yourself into is unfortunate Callindra.  However, I will not have it jeopardize my mission.” Tryst looked at her gravely, “If you cannot leave here in peace you are unwelcome, regardless of how useful your talents would be to my cause.”

“I did not come to this place in peace Tryst, yet you asked me before.”  She looked at him with haunted eyes, “I will not say that I am of no danger to you.  The men that are after me will kill me if they are able to catch me, but first they will torture me for information that I would not give if I had it.  Please, at least let me stay with you until I’m strong enough to defend myself.”

Tryst listened pensively.  “Maybe it’s the will of the Gods that I haven’t been able to find any others willing to join me.  I had wanted an army or at least a reasonably sized fighting force, but perhaps a small group would be less obtrusive.  We leave tomorrow before sunup, why don’t you stay here tonight?  You could meet the others who will be traveling with us.”

“Sure, I don’t have any reason to go back to the Empty Keg anyway, except for maybe to say goodbye to some people.  I think they’ll understand though, life can change without warning.  I’ll see them again someday.”

“Very well Callindra, come with me.  You aren’t the only one who needs shelter from something.  Vilhylm is an interesting person, I think he hides more than he reveals about himself.  Maybe that’s why he wears the masks.  Cronos seems to be fairly straightforward but I do occasionally catch him muttering to himself in some guttural language that I don’t understand.  Regardless, both of them are trustworthy and willing to undertake this mission of mine.  Of ours.”

Callindra left her half glass of wine on the table and stood to follow Tryst further into the halls of the cathedral.  As they walked, the tapestries grew sparser, the bare granite walls revealing the austerity the monks and priests who lived here subjected themselves to.  After a few turns, he arrived at a nondescript door and after knocking twice entered.

A young man or possibly boy sat at a low table, polishing a hand and a half sword that looked two times too big for him.  Barely visible in the shadows near a slit of a window was a cloaked individual, the hood pulled over its face as it carefully sanded a thin strip of wood.

“Cronos, Vilhylm, I wish to introduce the last member of our party.  Her name is Callindra.” Said Tryst in a bright voice.

“Her?  You’re bringing a girl onboard?” The boy asked, his voice nearly cracking, “Tryst really, you must be joking.”

“Welcome Callindra.” Said the hooded figure in a raspy disused voice, “I trust you are able and willing to use that toothpick?”

“Come now gentlemen, this is hardly the way to greet a new member.” Said Tryst, “Callindra is a true warrior.  She is fearless, I saw her face down three opponents without flinching.  She will be a good addition.”

“A hooded recluse and a little kid?  Tryst, I can’t believe you thought twice about bringing me with.” Said Callindra with a laugh, “Really, we are the best you could do?  Well I suppose nobody else is desperate or foolish enough to think about throwing their lives away for nothing.”

“Cronos is my brother and Vilhylm is a friend.  They have their own reasons for doing what they do.”  Said Tryst with a sigh.

“Well I’m tired and more than a little sore from my day in the ring.  If you don’t mind, I’d like to turn in early tonight, especially if we’re leaving before sunrise.” She said, “I need to run the Korumn tomorrow before we leave to make sure I’m ready for anything that comes.”

A look of surprise flickered across Cronos’s face but before he could say anything Tryst led her to a small room with a bed against one wall.  “If you wish to wash I can show you to the women’s bath.”

“Yes, it would be good to wash the dust and sweat of the day away.  Unfortunately I don’t have clean clothes but it will be better than the alternative.”  Callindra said, “Who knows when we’ll see another bath house once we are on the road.”

“I fear the robes most wear here would not suit you or I would offer.”  Tryst said with a wry chuckle.

–

Callindra rose earlier than usual, responding to a mental exercise Glarian had taught her.  He said it was useful when traveling or on a battlefield and had been surprised at how easily she had learned to use it.  Thinking of him gave her a pang of regret which she quickly suppressed.

“Bastard thinks I’m just going to sit here and wait for him?” She muttered, angrier at him for making her worry than anything else.  She rose and frowned at her sweat crusted underthings.  “I don’t think so, not while he’s out there running for his life because he taught me how to fight.  I owe him and I owe it to both of us to become strong enough to pull my weight.”

She pulled on her clothes with a sigh and padded barefoot out through the common room with a sheathed Brightfang slung over her shoulder.  Her hair moved as furtive gusts of air tugged at it.  “Yes, good morning.” She mumbled, walking to the staircase Tryst had pointed her to the night before when she asked for a place she could practice.

The light of the setting full moon illuminated the small courtyard that was at the end of the stairs.  A whiff of burning tac caused her to look over the carefully groomed shrubs and combed sand to see a man sitting on a bench.  He was wearing the simple robes that the rest of the monks here did but he was older.  A gnarled walking stick sat next to him and he gave her a nod in passing before returning to the simple pleasure of his early morning smoke.

Callindra put him out of her mind and stepped onto an area of manicured sand.  Facing north she began the first Korumn, breathing the power of creation and exhaling that of destruction.  Once she was calm and focused the remaining six beginning Korumn flowed naturally, Brightfang whistling cheerfully through the air.

The final Korumn, Marking the Compass completed the set and Callindra sheathed her sword with a flourish.  A light sheen of sweat beaded on her forehead but her breathing was slow and even.  The ever-present capricious breezes had ceased to pester her, all was at peace.

“You’ll need to rake that sand lass.” Callindra jumped at the old man speaking from the shadows, “You don’t seem to have left many footprints but we don’t need a compass rose in the center of our tranquil garden.”

She looked and saw that the release of Weave and winds at the end of the Korumn had all but erased the marks of her feet and instead a perfect compass pointed in eight directions radiating out from where she stood.

The scent of tac reminded her of Glarian and the surety of his voice automatically engendered respect, Callindra didn’t even think of questioning his authority. “Sorry about that, I just needed a quiet place to practice.” She said, walking to where the coarse-toothed rake leaned against a large rock.  “I’ll put it back the way it was.”

Closing her eyes, Callindra tried to remember what the pattern on the sands had been.  Something with circles, moving around the few large stones that were arrayed on the sand in a seemingly random fashion.  After a short time, she managed to get a fair approximation of what she thought it should look like, set the rake down and nodded to the man.

“Thanks for letting me practice here.”  After she left, the man studied the patterns she had traced on the sand with an inscrutable look on his face.

“That one.  She is going to be trouble.  Even so she was able to put the tumult that surrounds her on the sand so artfully.” He mused, drawing on his pipe, “The patterns she has left are exquisite, perhaps there is hope for her yet.”

“Name?”  The man sat behind a desk with a ledger open before him.  He looked hopelessly out of place in the arena, old and thin with only a few wisps of hair left on his head.

“Callindra.”  She replied, watching as he marked it down.  He looked up expectantly and she shook her head, “That’s it.”

He marked an X in the surname column, “Age?”

“Eighteen” she replied, staring down his disbelieving look until he shrugged, muttering and marked it down as well.

“School?”

Callindra had given this a bit of thought.  She knew she wasn’t supposed to mention her master.  After all it was teaching her that had gotten him into trouble in the first place.  Saying she was self-taught seemed to dishonor his teaching though; she was proud of the things he had shown her.  After some consideration had decided to give a generic enough name that nobody would question it.

“Northwind.”  He glanced at her briefly before marking that down as well.

“Class?”

“What?”

“Classification.” He said patiently, obviously having had to repeat the same speech several times today, “The type of position you wish to try out for.  I’m guessing light infantry?”

“No, I want to be a scout.” She said, having heard this was a coveted position.

“Everyone wants to be a scout.  Can you shoot?” He asked, “I notice you don’t have a bow.”

“No, I never had a knack for the bow.  I’m sort of a specialist.” Callindra said.

“A part of the trial for entrance into that particular group will be an archery contest.  Only the best get in girl, it’s the only way they can maintain an elite unit.”  He paused and set down his quill.  “I can’t stop you from wasting your time, but I might rethink that choice if I were you.”

Callindra was surprised by this turn of kindness, “What would you suggest sir?”

“Take the trial for light infantry and if you do well enough you might convince some Lord or another to make you his daughter’s warden.  It’s decent work, and since you’re a girl it would allow you to keep guard even when she is in places where her father would never let a man attend.”

“Sit in a room and watch some spoiled brat all day?  I don’t know, sounds like a waste of my training to me.” She sighed, knowing he was probably right, at least about the Scout position she wanted.  Maybe she could get some experience and try to join the Wolves after she’d proven herself. “Thanks for the advice, put me down for light infantry then.”

He marked that down as well, nodding in satisfaction that she had followed his suggestion.  “You’re a little early, you can go warm up in ring six.  Since you are a sword specialist, most of your testing will revolve around hand to hand combat, you will be provided with a practice blade.”

Callindra nodded and made her way past a lavish tent towards her appointed station.  A man stopped her as she walked past, “You, girl!  Where did you get that armor?”

“A master of leatherworking by the name of Markson made it.”  She said, “His shop is in the–“

“I know where his shop is.”  The man interrupted, “To think he would throw it in his lordship’s face.”  He snorted, “You’re playing a foolish and dangerous game girl.”

“What do you mean?”  Callindra asked, but the man had already spun on his heel, causing his richly embroidered cloak to flare as he stalked away.  She shrugged, the fool didn’t even have a sword.  Besides, wearing armor certainly couldn’t get her into trouble; even if it had once been intended for someone else.

Much to her surprise, the majority of the morning had been spent on drills, tests of military terminology and tactics.  Callindra felt she had done fairly well, the books she had read were slightly outdated but much of the knowledge they contained was still relevant.  She hoped it was anyway.  The sun was hot and sitting in her armor was beginning to get uncomfortable.

“Right!  Head to mess and report to your assigned ring for combat testing!”  Said the man who had most recently been grilling them individually about infantry strategies.

Callindra rose and followed the rest into a large tent where bread, meat, cheese and water were being doled out in large quantities.  She took her share with a nod of thanks and sat at the nearest table.  In spite of the training she’d endured, the promise of a fight against an unknown opponent was a frightening prospect.  The feeling seemed to be prevalent among many of her peers, there wasn’t much talking among them.

Between bites she glanced around the room, noting the wide variety of armaments and armor.  Twice when idly looking about she caught a man in nondescript clothes staring at her.  The second time he met her eye his mouth parted in a vicious grin and pushed through the line of people waiting their turn to eat.

She finished her meal, eating out of necessity rather than because she wanted to.  She brought her plate back to the table and then returned to the ring.  She sat cross-legged with Brightfang across her knees and allowed the trance of meditation to overtake her.  Her breath was the breath of the Winds and calm fell over her like a warm blanket.

“Callindra of Northwind, you’re facing Fash Con’Anin from Stoneforge.  Enter the ring.”  The official looked at Callindra, “Leave your blade there.”

Reluctantly, she unbuckled Brightfang and lay him down on the sand.  She stepped into the ring and took the bundled lath practice sword from the official, hefting it to feel the balance.  It wasn’t too bad, although the blade was slightly too heavy.  Her opponent was doing the same.

“The fight is over when one combatant achieves three hits.  Hands, feet, neck, groin and face are off limits.  This is a test of control as well as skill, you are not to hit full strength.  Leave the ring and you are disqualified immediately.  I want a clean fight.” Said the official, checking each of them in turn to make sure they understood.  When they both nodded he stepped back, “Begin!”

Callindra could hear Glarian’s voice in her head, ‘When you aren’t sure of your opponent, attack quickly with a shallow strike that will not leave you vulnerable.  That way you can set the rhythm of the fight and feel out your adversary’s skill at the same time.’

She leaped forward, striking like a whip crack at Fash’s right shoulder.  He flinched backward and Callindra realized this practice sword was a hand span shorter than Brightfang.  When her opponent offered no counterattack, she pressed on, striking a rapid series of blows.  She struck chest, right leg, left shoulder in a flowing series of attacks, the bundled lath making a satisfying *clack* with each successful blow.

When she had struck three times, Callindra stepped back into the Ready Stance and waited.  The official gave her an appraising look and nodded sharply.  “Victory goes to Callindra of Northwind.  You may rest in the shade until your next match.”

She put her right fist over her heart, still gripping her sword in her other hand with the blade reversed to run up her left forearm and bowed from the waist to the official and her opponent.  Fash was staring at her in shocked disbelief.

“But you’re a girl!”  He bleated, “Just a stupid girl!”

Callindra walked back and reclaimed Brightfang.  Slinging his comfortable sheathed weight over her shoulder she turned to fix Fash with a baleful stare, “Take your loss and learn from it, never underestimate an opponent based on foolish prejudice.”

One or two of the other fighters assembled laughed as she walked the few steps back to a sun shade behind the ring.  Callindra realized she was the only female she had seen in her group and scanned the others and only saw a handful of other women.  She looked back at the fight in the ring before her; wanting to gauge the potential opponent’s strength against the chance she might be facing them across a blade.

While she sat, a young girl approached her.  A man at arms was awkwardly accompanying her and holding a parasol to stave off the sun’s rays.

“Good morrow.” The girl said, bobbing a practiced curtsey.

Callindra glanced at her, and then turned her attention back to the current fight.

“My name is Miss Blackforge, Nina Blackforge.”  The girl continued, pausing to see what affect her name had.  When Callindra didn’t react, she pressed on.  “Are you really a strong fighter?  I mean my father wants me to have a protector but I cannot tolerate the thought of a man with a sword attending me all the time.”

The fight below was over and while the combatants were changing places Callindra looked directly at the girl, “Looks like you’ve already got a man attending you all the time Miss Blackforge.”

“Well, he is not with me all the time.”  She blushed artfully, “Certainly you understand my meaning?”

“What are you worried about someone breaking in on you when you’re bathing or taking a shi- er potty break?” Callindra asked, watching as the next two fighters entered the ring.

Nina blushed a deeper shade of red, “I’m sure I don’t know, but I would just feel more comfortable with female company.”

“I don’t know about that, but I can understand there are times it’s better to have girls around than boys.” Said Callindra, “Listen, I don’t know who your father is and I don’t know why you think you need protection but if you want my honest opinion the only way to be protected is to take matters into your own hands.”

The guard holding the parasol gave her a shrewd look, half approving and half incredulous.

“What, you mean learn to use a sword?”  Nina broke into a silvery peal of laughter, “You surely must be joking!”

“No I’m not.” Callindra retorted, “Why do you think I demanded my master teach me the Sword in the first place?  I refuse to allow anyone else to dominate me.  I won’t be subjugated because I’m too weak to stand up for myself.”

“But here you are, trying out for a position in the military.  You do know that you will be required to follow orders in the military don’t you?” Nina raised an eyebrow, “I wonder just how independent you would be then?”

“I suppose that is true Nina but for me this is simply a means to grow stronger.” Callindra said, “I must have experience if I am to attain the strength needed.  Training will only get you so far and I’ve reached the limits of what can be taught.  Now it is up to me to bend the world to my will and wrest the knowledge I need from it.”

“What are you after that you need to pursue this kind of power?” The girl asked, “You can’t be much older than I.”

“I fear I’m older than I look.  You are perhaps fourteen?”  Nina nodded, “I thought as much, I’m four years your senior.  It’s less what I’m after and more what’s after me but I am searching for someone as well.  It’s complicated.”

Nina looked at her thoughtfully, “Well if you win I’m going to ask daddy to hire you anyway.  Maybe I can help you find the person you’re looking for.”  With that, she turned and glided away, her unfortunate soldier striding in her wake and holding the parasol to keep her shaded.

“Stupid to hold that damn sun shade, he’d never be able to draw his sword in time.” Callindra muttered, turning her full attention back to the ring.

Most of the other combatants were unremarkable; with the man she had seen watching her from the doorway to the mess tent being the only exception.  He dispatched his opponent with brutal and precise attacks that spoke of an experienced warrior, not a green recruit.  After his victory he came and sat next to her on the bench in the shade.

“Nice fight.” She offered, not sure why he had chosen to sit so close since there was plenty of other room.

“He was a weakling.  I hate being forced into this stupid formality; the Lord should know already that I’m worthy.”

“What do you mean?  Isn’t it good to test your skills against other schools?”  Callindra asked.

“Why don’t you just quit.  Quit right now and I won’t have to lower myself by fighting you.”  He was looking at her with disgust on his face, “What sort of a test is fighting a stripling girl?  It’s humiliating that I’m even asked to do so.”

“Why don’t YOU just quit?”  Callindra’s voice lowered dangerously and a gust of wind blew dust into his face. “I will teach you the meaning of humility when I defeat you.”

The man broke out laughing, “You have spirit, I’ll grant that little one.  Don’t let it put words in your mouth that you can’t back up though.  It’ll be the death of you.”

“You aren’t the first to underestimate me.  You’ve already seen what results from it in my last fight.”  She gave him an evil smile, “Tell Lord Graylocke he should have just purchased this armor if he wanted to avoid humiliation, if he’ll even talk with you after your defeat that is.”  A sharp gust of wind whipped between them, causing the canvas of the shelter to shudder and strain against its moorings.

Before he could respond, the official below called out, “Callindra of Northwind, you will face Genric of Stonearm.”

She stood and strode to the ring, closely followed by the man she had just been verbally sparring with.  Once again, she reluctantly left Brightfang just outside the raised level of the ring before stepping up onto the packed sand.  Once Genric entered on the other side, she assumed the Ready Stance.