513 AV, 87th Day of Spring Sweat trickled slowly down Kayelin's spine, between her tense shoulder blades and into the waistline of her breeches. Her clothing stuck to her damp skin in all the wrong places, only making her feel hotter. It felt good though, to be pushing her body into exhausted. She needed it after the week she'd been having, settling into her new role of Squire of the Syliran Knights. It was still hard for her to believe that after years of dreaming about it, she was finally on her way to becoming a Knight. The past several days she'd been working diligently, and not surprisingly made zero friends. Maybe she was being antisocial, but it wasn't encouraging when the few times she tried to have a conversation with the girls in her room, she came off as an uneducated simpleton. Kayelin even heard one of the girls whisper to another that it was a little like having a man stay in their room. Her ears turned red at the memory, and she took another swing at the dead white ash tree in front of her. It was her "sparring" partner for the day. Within the few bells she had been practicing, it had acquired a great number of nicks and wedges hacked from its sides. Her longsword cut into the bark once more, getting stuck and painfully jarring her arm. It had been a blind, emotional swing that broke the careful concentration she'd been keeping all morning. Kayelin shook out her tingling wrist, working out the stiffness of her arm behind pulling on the hilt of her embedded blade. It didn't budge, even when she used both hands. She sighed and braced a heavy boot against the smooth bark, using it as leverage when she tried again. Her back strained a moment against the hold the tree had on her sword before it suddenly popped out, sending her backwards onto the ground. She grunted and lost her breath on landing, blinking rapidly against the sunlight shining down through the trees. Her Falivan, who was sleeping in a patch of light nearby, didn't even open an eye. Kayelin lie prone on the leaves a few moments as she caught her breath, mulling over when she should return to the city. The sun had almost climbed to the top of the sky, meaning she'd been there for close to three bells. She wasn't too eager to return to the stares of her fellow suite-mates. So instead, she climbed to her feet and went to retrieve her shield from where it lay with her pack. Kayelin buckled it securely to her left forearm and swung her arm to-and-fro, testing the weight. Then she readjusted the hold on her sword grip and took a ready stance in front of the battered old ash tree. Kayelin bent her legs at the knees, angling one foot behind the other in a position that made it easier to pivot. She held the shield aloft in front of her and close to the torso, sword tipped toward the tree and ready in her other hand. Her palms were sweating profusely underneath her leather gloves, giving her the annoying urge to constantly readjust her fingers. Finally more or less happy with her stance, she thrust forward at the tree with her sword tip, digging into the bark and yanking it back again. Her shield went up to block off an imaginary downward strike, and she jabbed under the tree's "defenses" with a quick stab to the base of its trunk. Back in her ready stance again, Kayelin started to shuffle around the ash, swinging her blade at certain intervals. Hunks of bark became dislodged with each slash, leaving the old withered wood underneath naked. Feeling a little inspired, she swung her blade in a wide slanted arc to a section of exposed trunk. When the blade was inches from its mark the steel caught and reflected a small shaft of sunlight, reflecting right into her eyes. Kayelin grunted and jerked away from the glare, accidentally stumbling and tripping over a gnarled root by her feet. The longsword flew from her fingers, bounced off the tree, and ricocheted to the dirt. She landed in an unceremonious heap, busting her chin on the rim of her shield and biting down on her tongue. Her face burned with tears of pain as blood pooled in her mouth and ran down her chin, staining the leaves and grass pillowing her cheek. She rapidly blinked away the moisture in her eyes, coughing out the mouthful of blood and shakily rising to a sit. Her head spun a moment before settling into a dull headache that radiated from jaw to temple. Kayelin's tongue was already swelling and filling her mouth, feeling like a thick piece of cotton. If cotton could cause intense pain and trickle a steady stream of coppery blood. She spat out the next mouthful and grimaced, climbing unsteadily to her feet. Her Falivan had finally taken notice, at least. The young pup was rising from its napping area to trot over and investigate the smell of blood. She stuck her nose in all the nooks and crannies of Kayelin's that she could reach, whining curiously and slowly wagging her tail. "Mm ohay," she mumbled past her swelling tongue but regretted it instantly when it throbbed sharply, making her wince. Right, no more trying to talk. Instead she patted the dog's head and slowly stooped to retrieve her blade, keeping a hand pressed to the side of her aching jaw. At least the headache was tolerable, but she was going to have a nasty bruise. She slipped the sword back into its scabbard buckled to her hip before dragging her feet across the minuscule clearing to the rest of her gear. Kayelin was for sure not going to stay out here bleeding all over herself just to keep stabbing an old dead tree. As she was about to grab up her pack a sudden shout from behind made her jump and spin, yanking her longsword back from its scabbard. Two other approaching voices laughed from somewhere in the trees, laced by the soft thundering of hooves muffled by the damp ground. Several heartbeats later three men rode into the clearing, reigning in their lathered and foaming horses. They were all dressed rather similarly in a mixture of different shades of leather armor. Swords and clubs were strapped to each of their saddles, and none of the men looked particularly happy, even though they were smiling. Her pup growled low in her throat, pressing close to Kayelin's leg. "Why hello there, sir! Fancy running into someone out here. We were getting a little lonely, weren't we?" The one of the left nodded, but the one on the right frowned and leaned forward in his saddle, giving Kayelin a closer look. "Grant, this bloke ain't a bloke. He's a she." He pointed rather rudely to the sweaty shirt sticking to her not-so-obvious breasts, and she felt her face getting hot. "Oh, would you look at that! She is. Sorry about that, my lady." He emphasized the title, making it clear he thought she was anything but a lady. She instantly hated all three of them. "Sorry to disturb you, but were just out on our daily patrol. You see, we own this part of the woods." The others nodded enthusiastically, knowing what was next. "And we tax anyone we come across. You're trespassing, after all! That's against the law." What a load of horse shit. The man on the left, who was clearly not the brains of the three, laughed raucously. Grant, the rider in the middle, merely smiled. Kayelin stood straighter and feigned relaxation, letting her sword hang at her side. She had to wrestle internally with her fury, but was able to smooth her face into a mask of contrite obedience for at least a moment. "Oh, ish no twubble. I am showwy, I didn't know. How mush ish thish tash?" They stared at her for a long moment, obviously confused by her voice, before they burst into hysterical laughter. Kayelin frowned and felt her face get hot again, instinctively gripping her sword more tightly. The three of them took their sweet time calming down, leaving her standing like a red faced fool to be poked fun at. Finally their laughter died down to a few soft chuckles, and Grant wiped a tear from his eye and sighed, smiling from ear to ear. "I'm glad you spotted this one, Allen. She's a riot!" Allen must have been the idiot on the left, because he suddenly looked very proud of himself. Kayelin spat out her third mouthful of blood and cleared her throat, no longer trying to look sociable. Her face was contorted with embarrassment, anger, and disgust. Grant smiled at her, urging his bay horse forward a few paces. "Come on now, we're only having a spot of fun. Just give us your gear and we'll be on our way." A loud growl rumbled in her dog's throat, grabbing the bandit's attention. His smile grew even bigger, and she wasn't sure how his face hadn't split in half yet. "That dog too, we'll take it as well. After all, you wouldn't want to get the law involved." The others chuckled amongst themselves, watching like a pair of ugly hawks. Kayelin was officially tired of the game. She lifted her sword and motioned at the three of them with its tip. "No, I shink I wiw jush be going. Ish getting awfuwy wate, an I have to get back before dawk." It was like a candle had been blown out. One moment the three riders were all smiles, then the next their faces hardened. "No," Grant said, sounding much more threatening now. "You will give us your things and then be going. You're in our woods. That means what's yours is ours." Kayelin was done playing along. She glared at him with naked anger, and even though he was mounted she didn't have all that far to look up. "I shuggesht yew let me weave. The Knights wiw naw wike it when a Swire goes mishing." For a moment the bandits looked confused, until they managed to deciphered her garbled speech. "Kill her, Grant! She might bring someone after us if we let her off." So the idiot Allen wasn't quiet so stupid after all. Grant glared back at her, clearly not liking the turn of events. "No, you're right. We can't let her go now. Devon, kill her. Allen, take the dog and tie it up. We'll toss her body somewhere out in the woods. The animals will do the rest." Kayelin's heart skipped before it started pounding wildly. Shyke, I should have kept my mouth shut. She probably would have went along with their demands if it hadn't meant giving up the dog. No one was taking that dog. No one. It looked like now it was going to come down to a fight. Three against one and a half were not good odds. At least she'd succeeded in becoming a Squire before she died. She swallowed the fear that had dropped her gut to her toes and put herself in the ready stance she'd practiced earlier. She wasn't going to go down without a bloody brawl. Hopefully Kayeline would at least kill one of them. Devon pulled his blade from the scabbard tied down to his saddle, and the others quickly did the same. If snakes could smile, she imagined this is what they would look like. |