This One Time in Orc Camp, Part II by Toogee and
@Red Thunder
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Aurea couldn't stop looking at it.
The bright sheen of the blade shone in the sunlight. To anyone else, it didn't look any different than any other sword. There weren't even any elaborate details: it had the look of a tool with its plain flat blade. The handle had a simple leather binding around it. It had the look of a novice blacksmith's first blade. Yet this one was special. Aurea made this blade under the watchful eye of the Inferno. She had all the singe marks on her clothes to prove she shaped the metal herself (with help).
Currently, Aurea was helping out the orcish blacksmith Gad'Zooks. They had taken a break so Aurea could show off the blade she had made. The orc held the edge close to his expert eye, looking for any obvious weaknesses. Finally, he took several swings through the air before giving the sword back to the warden.
"Tis a good sword, fairy warrior," Zooks responded, nodding in approval. "If this warden thing doesn't work out, I would take you as my apprentice."
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna stick with the 'warden thing' a little while longer." Aurea replied with a smile, putting her sword away. She continued to help Zooks put surplus swords into a nearby cart in preparation for the upcoming battle.
"Just as well. A sword from a master warden, worth much more. I know a couple of chieftains back home that would love a sword from the legendary Inferno. You think you could get him to make a couple for me?" One couldn't blame the blacksmith for making a few gold. That old man could be dead within days, which would only double the value of any swords he made. Zooks rubbed his chin, contemplating the price such a sword could go for.
"Zooks..." Aurea shook her head, seeing the blacksmith scheming.
"Fine fine. I will settle for something from his skilled protege. When you get better and are looking to make coin, you remember Uncle Zooks!"
"Oh really? Since when have you been my Uncle?"
"Since you started making swords under a legendary warrior!"
~~~
"The space I require isn't so large as that."
The orc grimaced and spat to the side.
"The space isn't the issue. A sparring ring? Pah; we've neither the time, the supplies, nor the spare troops to build such a luxury."
Waethrin couldn't decide if the aide-de-camp was giving him the run around or not. His expression turned icy, a frightening sight.
"It's a matter of safety; I can't have a novice sparring in an open space. Besides, tradition states-"
"Shove your tradition. Got you far with the Thalls, didn't it?"
The old man's eye flashed, and the snow about his feet began to melt against the heat suddenly emanating from his form. But he held his tongue, choosing instead to turn away in a huff and stomp off back toward the smithy. Zooks had at least shown some deference toward him and his inclinations, and Waethrin had no qualms with leaving his newly christened apprentice with the orc while he'd gone to prepare some form of training ground.
They would apparently have to do with that. Waethrin brushed aside the smithy tent flap with irritation.
"Girl! Come, and bring your steel. It is time to see whether it breaks."
With a small glance and nod to the blacksmith, Waethrin disappeared outside again to await Aurea. He stood some fifty feet from the tent, arms crossed and staring out into the plain as he looked for an ideal location.
While Gad'Zooks was tallying up how much a sword that crossed the Inferno would be worth, Aurea was nervous. From the sounds of it, Waethrin had invited her to a duel. She knew the stories of the Inferno's legendary fighting prowess. His swordplay was just as fierce as his fire magic. But that was a long time ago. A really, really, really long time ago. The only time she recalled seeing Waethrin in battle was on top of his dragon. Her memories of the Underrealm were cloudy at best, so there wasn't much to go off of from that adventure.
Though still a novice, Aurea was worried that she would somehow hurt Waethrin. If anyone else his age fell over, they'd never get back up. What would the wardens do if their most important figure shattered a hip just before a major battle?
These were the thoughts going through the girl's head as she left the tent. A duel ring was already set up. A few orcs were gathered around, taking a break to watch the coming spectacle. Just what she needed: witnesses.
"Are you sure we should be doing this so soon before a battle?" Aurea asked Waethrin. Her doubts and concerns seeped out of her speech. She really didn't want this to be the end of the Inferno's legacy.
Had the orc been stringing him along? Teasing the old man, riling him up while knowing full well that a sparring ring was indeed already available for use? Waethrin grimaced, upper lip tightening around his nose in building anger. He'd half- more than half a mind to go back and torch the son of a bi-
The girl's inquiry, concern-laden, tickled his ear. The old man snorted impatiently.
"It's because we are so soon to battle that we are doing this. You are green. Untested. Like a shield bright with the shine of new wax upon a perfect face. And judging by the way you hold your sword, utterly unfamiliar with it." He turned to her, tone losing its edge. "But do not fear. This shall not be an actual contest, but rather an evaluation. You and I both must know where it is you stand in the way of martial skill.
"Come."
Paying little attention to the badly hidden asides and comments the small orcish audience made, Waethrin made his way into the ring, grunting loudly as he bent under the rail. He pointed to a spot some ten feet in front of him.
"Stand there, and present your blade."
Like a shield bright with the shine of new wax upon a perfect face.
Aurea was really appreciative of Waethrin's comments about her complexion, though that probably wasn't his intent. The comparison with weaponry implied that her face wouldn't be so perfect for very long. She would have fangriled harder if that weren't the case. Just as she dreaded hurting him, she also didn't want to look like she lost a battle before even entering one.
Nodding, Aurea climbed over the fence and took the sword in both hands. It was held in such a way that the blade was directly above her head. Her upper arms framed her face, her elbows slightly bent from the weight of the weapon. She was prepared to strike down like a spring-loaded trap.
Her legs were arranged just like when she practiced with a bow: her left was in front of the right. The front of her body was facing away from her opponent. While this worked with a bow, Aurea found it incredibly uncomfortable keeping the position. The heaviness of the blade made it difficult to keep it above her head. Her arms began to shake a bit as she shifted around to find a good fighting stance.
"Sword's are heavier than I thought," Aurea commented, shifting her feet to see if a mirrored posture would be better.
"They are, when you hold them badly."
Canted. Blade held horizontal to the ground. Feet better placed for an archer than a swordsman. In older times, Waethrin might have smiled at the attempt. It was actually a fair one; though inappropriate for melee combat, it showed that Aurea was capable of hard training, of retaining what she learned, and of returning to it on a moment's notice. The problem, of course, was that she'd have to unlearn the bowman's stance first. He drew his sword.
"Not like that. Face your opponent. Feet just beyond your shoulders' width. Right foot a full length behind the left. Bend the knees a touch. Pull your shoulders back. Straighten up. Now, lean forward, as if preparing to take a blow. Place your arms- so. Open the elbows out."
As he instructed, the old man demonstrated. With each step, he moved, pausing for Aurea to follow along in kind before proceeding.
"Were this better times, the effort would be given for refinement. But time dwindles rapidly, and other things are more important."
His eye stared hard at her sword, and he nodded.
"Strike me."
Upon Waethrin's command, Aurea winced. She had done her best to mimic his stance. She faced Waethrin, spread her feet, left foot forward, stood straight, and all the other instructions. She was a mirror image of him, albeit a smaller, more girly image. Though it wasn't perfect, the older warden skipped to the striking portion of the lesson. The girl really wished she could have practiced more. If there was ever a time that she accidently hurt Waethrin, this would have been the time. Now came the point where she would have to apply her skills. The orcs watching were now paying full attention to see what she would do.
With ten feet in between them, Aurea made the short sprint to cover the distance. She struggled a bit keeping her feet right as she moved and eventually didn't worry about it until she got close. Once she came in striking distance of Waethrin, her moves became slow and deliberate. She put her feet back in position and brought her sword down in a diagonal slash. However, great care was taken to not so much as brush against the old man, lest he fall over like a house of cards. The slash was in slow motion, the strike was stopped just next to Waethrin's arm.
Aurea looked expectedly at Waethrin, wondering if her form was correct.
As she approached, Waethrin hadn't moved. He remained immovable, utterly stoic, and his eye followed her movements analytically. There was passion in her approach, and power, and he felt his heart begin to swell.
It crashed down with the full weight of utter disappointment. The blow may as well have been delivered from another individual entirely than had sprinted toward him. So when her blade came to a stop beside his arm, he batted it aside with a backhanded blow.
"I said,
'Strike me!'"
The volume of his voice was matched only by the suddenness of his own attack. While not truly quick, it was nevertheless unexpected in its speed from such a withered individual, and the air whistled. From outside the ring, the orcish blacksmith gave a cry of anger and nearly vaulted the barrier; Gad'Zooks was certain the girl's arm would very shortly be in the mud.
The sword never reached her, instead halting at plate mail's width from her shoulder. The old man withdrew his sword and stepped back, eye lidded and dangerous.
"I am old; I am not incapable."
Aurea was taken by surprise by the speed Waethrin still had. She winced as the sword came directly for her. This was her punishment for underestimating a warden of the old era. More orcs gathered around the ring; suddenly this practice match was getting interesting. They were reading to see the brutality of limbs flying all over the place.
Fortunately, Aurea would not become the next Feria.
Without a word, the young warden walked back to her starting position ten feet away. She was much too embarrassed to even apologize. Aurea took a few breaths to refocus on the match and tightened her grip upon her sword. Once more, she charged towards Waethrin, but this time she didn't hold back. The momentum from her charge turned into a leap as her sword attempted to slash Waethrin as she passed him by.
"Kya!" Aurea gave her battlecry as she tested her might against Waethrin's steel.
His black blade met her new edge with a sharp crash. Waethrin's sword shifted, turning the attack to the side as eased his weight in the opposite direction. As Aurea landed, feet kicking up sod, his arm retracted, coiling like a snake, before racing forward in a spearing stab toward her side.
He would not relent in this training and evaluation; he could not. For the girl's sake. Increasingly it seemed to the old veteran that she had seen little of the fury of battle, and he had to know her limits. And her strengths. He had to know how far she would press into herself and into her enemies. He had to know she could survive when push came to shove.
Most importantly, she had to know. And though Waethrin wouldn't risk
actually gutting her, if Aurea didn't feel like he was about to, she would never know just what she might or might not be capable of. So he pushed and pushed, seeking her fighting spirit.
Aurea was pretty sure Waethrin was trying to kill her.
Was she too forceful in her opening strike? It felt like whatever she did only intensified the fight. As swords traded blow, Aurea didn't quite stick the landing. She landed on her side as the elder was stabbing towards her side. The young warden rolled away in an attempt to get away. Of course, she was nearly covered in mud.
Mud was the natural element of an earth warden.
Aurea needed time to regain her stance against an advancing Waethrin. In an arena covered in mud, she turned to her own magic. Raising an unarmed hand, Aurea used her magic to have the ground beneath Waethrin to take hold of his feet by his ankles. It wasn't a grand battle strategy. It was a reflex honed during the mock battle sessions she had done back in the Haven.
Any time gained from the maneuver was used to get back on her feet and get into her stance.
"I instructed you to
strike me, not
muddy me!"
He glowered at her as Aurea scrambled to her feet, covered in mud herself. Yet he glowered to keep from cracking a smile. She could adapt; good. Better yet, she used the time she'd gained well, falling into a stance not quite what he'd shown her and yet more efficient than that which she'd first adopted.
That swell of pride returned. Not that she needed to know yet.
"So, you wish to include magic in this education? Very well." Bending at the waist, Waethrin placed a finger on the ground between his entrapped feet. Spreading from the central point, furious heat raced through the mud, vaporizing the water within it. The sudden transition from liquid to gas caused the water to expand rapidly, and the mud, now little more than dust from the lack of water and ignition of any binding components, was thrown into the air in a minor explosion. Grunting, he pulled free his feet.
"Come," he said, sneering. "Your lesson continues, now in defense."
Sword raised vertically beside him, he attacked once again.
Waethrin's fire turned mud into dirt, removing some of the advantage that Aurea had in the battle. The orcs in the battle had mixed feelings about the use of magic. Some thought the girl cheated. Others saw this as the way of the Wardens: they mix magic and swords to overwhelm their enemies. None took their eyes off the battle.
Aurea felt the glower of the elder, as though she committed some faux pas in using her magic. Yet, to not use every tool in battle was foolish, or so she was taught. She was not yet adept in swordplay, but she could make up for it in her earth magic. She didn't have the Inferno's raw power, nor did she need it. A slight shift in the ground could be the difference of a strong defense or an opening from a weak stance.
Seeing Waethrin's vertical strike, Aurea hardened her defense. She raised her sword above her head to meet the Inferno's. She used the momentum to strafe to Waethrin's left. She pointed her sword to the ground beneath Waethrin's feet. In such a short amount of time, she was only able to make the ground a bit uneven. It was a bit difficult given that the mud was more firm.
She followed up her magic with a horizontal strike coming from her left, hoping she was quick enough to follow up.
He stumbled.
He stumbled.
Damn his old legs. It wasn't much, but it broke his attention from the girl oh so briefly, and Aurea made good use of the distraction. Waethrin took two steps that he didn't intend even as the girl coiled and struck. Her mettle was met with his, even as their swords clashed as he brought his up in guard. The corner of his eye creased more deeply than they stood at idle, wrinkled from the upturn of his mouth.
"Enough," came the gravelled command, and withdrawing, he sheathed his black blade. "You adapt. Good. You use unexpected, some might say 'underhanded', techniques. This is also good. War is dirty and ugly and serves only one purpose: winning. Those who champion 'honor' in a battle can't feed they'd children with it, and will not earn their children the spoils of war."
From the lines, dark murmurs began filtering through the crowd; the Orcs clearly saw that such was a jab at them. But Waethrin gestured for Aurea to follow and began striding toward temporary bathhouse.
"Come; we must wash this mud away. You show promise, but there is more to training than a fight."
At Waethrin's command to cease, Aurea breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't sure how long she could have kept up. There was some since of pride in having tripped up the mighty Inferno. That pride quickly diminished when he called her tactics "underhanded". The looks of some in the crowd seemed to agree: her fighting lacked honor. Waethrin felt it was good in war, but Aurea certainly didn't feel great. By using her magic, was she no better than a rogue or thief?
As these thoughts rolled through her head, she followed along to get herself cleaned up. Just as she thought they were done, Waethrin spoke of there being more than just fighting.
"There's more..." she said to herself in exasperation.
