Blood on the Moon, A Journey of Discovery Options

[treydog]

@Black Hand- Well of course- she WAS trained by Sethyas, after all!

@McBadgere- Bryn is one of those gifts a writer does not question- just asks what's his pleasure and lets go about his business. We will discover in this post- but most especially in the next- what it is that really motivates our half-elven princess.

@haute- It is SO good to have you back and to know that you are reading and enjoying. Perhaps if you gave those clients some practice weapons and.... No perhaps not- seeing what happens below.

Where we are- The long-anticipated sparring session has finally arrived and Athynae is more than ready. Athlain... well, let's just say he has been down this road a time or two and leave it at that. However... but, not- that would be telling. You will just have to read and find out.

------------------------------------------------------------

It was not unusual to find myself sprawled on the soil of the practice area- years of sparring with Athynae had given me plenty of experience of that position. I worked my jaw and touched the place below my ribs, using those injuries as a gauge of just how angry she really was. Despite what the onlookers might have guessed, her heart had not really been in the punches. Which is not to say that I enjoyed the experience- merely that I understood her motives. Once I was back on my feet, Bryn walked over to assist me with the practice tunic and leg coverings. As he tied the white garb over my armor he rumbled:

“I hae done a’ I could, lad. But she be in a rare temper. E’en wi’ yon wooden sword, I doubt not tha’ herself wi’ try her best ta flay ye alive.”

With that he stepped aside and I faced Athynae across the oddest practice ring I had ever known.

Besides Svenja and Brynjolfr, most of the inhabitants of Thirsk had found some reason to be loitering in the vicinity. Among those reasons there appeared to be several of a financial nature, for coins were exchanged for painted chips of wood at a frantic pace.

For myself, I was fogged by memories. I was 10 once more… or 12… and facing an adversary I could not defeat. Oh there had been a few times, after Aunt Serene had given me instruction with the quarterstaff, but did those really count? I tried to find the relaxed readiness that had been drilled into me, but could not. Instead, I found myself lost in a pair of lavender eyes that blazed with a fury as bright as the flame of her fiery hair. I stepped up to the mark, and Athynae raised her practice blade in formal salute, then with the same motion sent it whistling toward my head. My shield began to rise- too slow. A light exploded behind my eyes and then was swallowed by darkness.

I woke to the feel of someone pressing a cool compress to my forehead and the taste of a healing potion on my lips. When my vision cleared, I saw Athynae standing several paces away, her posture the archetype of impatience. But- if she was there- then who was…?

“Be ye ready to try again?”

Svenja’s voice came to my ears and her pale face swam into focus, frowning at me from where she knelt by my side. I sat up and noticed that the spectators had become much more subdued than before. Few of them seemed willing to meet my gaze, looking away as I glanced around the group. I swallowed the rest of the healing draught and clambered to my feet. Svenja rose more gracefully and stared at me for a moment before stepping aside. She seemed to be trying to tell me something, but I had never been good at “reading” women- still less so when my brains were scrambled. With a slight shake of her head she made a gesture that could have been interpreted either as a sign to commence or as one of disgust with the whole proceeding.

What no one seemed to understand, probably not even Athynae herself, were the real reasons for her actions. Anger at my betrayal of her trust was only a small part, but that anger was a cover for something else. Athynae was afraid.

The werewolf had defeated her, even though she survived and he did not. And that had robbed her of her certainty. I would go along with the pretense that we were simply “practicing”- and even that this was just Athynae “being Athynae”- at least for a while longer. But I knew what we were really doing was restoring Thyna’s confidence in herself. There had been times when I wished she would learn some humility, but never at such a cost. I had tasted defeat many times, and learned to deal with it. She had never lost what she considered to be a “real” contest of arms. Even when Aunt Serene had tutored me with the staff and I had won some of the practice bouts, Thyna had declared that those “did not count.” But the lycanthrope could not be dismissed so easily. Therefore, for just a little longer, I would work with her to exorcise her doubts.

During the passage of arms that followed, my shield work was better and it might have been two whole minutes before I once again tasted the snow-covered ground. To my credit, I did not lose consciousness and was able to rise without assistance. For the third pass, Athynae decided to ignore my battered head, at least for a time. Instead, she lashed my arms, my legs, and my torso- alternating the resounding “thwacks” with thrusts that drove the blunt end of the practice blade at the joints of my armor. The force of the blows was such that Brynjolfr’s notation of “point” was unnecessary. By now, most of the hunters had dispersed. Only a handful remained, along with Svenja, Brynjolfr- and Ahnya. The already pale Nord girl’s face was almost bereft of color and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. I could not understand- none of my weak counters had touched Athynae, and her tunic was still unblemished by a single mark- so why was Ahnya about to cry?

As I wondered about that, I also became aware that I could once again “hear” Thyna’s thoughts. The self-doubt she felt because of the werewolf attack was apparent, as was a core of incredible anger. However, although I was central to that anger, I was not the target.

I failed him, and that is why he left. That’s why he will leave again. Because he can’t count on me. I, Athynae Sarethi of Great House Redoran, am a failure. Everyone leaves me. The Skaal have known me longer, but now they pledge their hearts and their loyalty to him! He had to run away to the Legion to become the warrior I tried so hard to make him. And he did it- without me. He has changed; he has gone where I cannot reach him any longer. He will keep changing and he will keep leaving me farther behind. He will leave me. Like everyone. Like Uncle Seth. So leave then! GO! Change!

The intensity and the anguish of those thoughts was enough that I dropped my guard for just an instant. The momentary distraction was enough for Athynae- she knocked me to the ground once more. But this time, she did not step away, instead raising her sword as if to deliver a finishing blow. Before she could do so, a small form hurtled into view, shoving her away. Ahnya stood over me, her white cheeks now marked with red spots of anger.

“Stop it! What’s wrong with you? Leave him alone!”

Thyna shifted her grip and I knew that a pommel strike was coming- aimed not at me, but at my protector. I cringed in anticipation, but Ahnya never flinched, raising her chin to take the blow. To my relief, it was a blow that never fell. Athynae stopped and stood stock still for a moment, seeing who she confronted for the first time. And then the madness faded from her eyes and she turned to walk away. Ahnya was not to be deterred- she followed and began speaking fiercely to her mentor, gesturing at me all the while. However, I did not get a chance to hear what she was saying for Svenja hauled me to my feet and used a forearm to drive me back against the wall of the mead hall.

“And what in Oblivion be ye playin’ at, my lord?”

It was a measure of her agitation that she slipped into the accents of her native Skyrim.

“This is not play, Svenja. Not for me, nor for the greatest warrior I have ever known. We just needed to… work some things out. I believe that is now finished, and the true business of sparring can begin.”

Athynae was still a better duelist than I, but I had gained more practical experience in the last year. She had already demonstrated that we were not constrained by “tournament rules” and that points were not the issue. She had speed and reach, but she had not changed her style, while mine had been honed in far too many battles to the death. And there was something else; I knew that I could take a wound, or even several, and keep on fighting. It was not that she was in any way afraid of being hit, just that the idea was outside her thinking. It was time to dent her confidence just a bit- in order to build it back- on a solid foundation.

Watching Thyna move with a sword was like watching a dancer, her movements fluid and seamless. And it was a dance that we both knew very well- except that this time, I had the proper weapon in my hands. So I matched her steps, flowing into the dance with her. To survive a fight with someone trained by Sethyas, you must understand that it is harmony rather than conflict. The blade meets flesh because it is foreordained.

Because she had the greater reach, I had to let her lead. All the more so because I was setting a trap. Sheltering behind my shield, I began to push the pace. Before, I had given way to her fury; now, I let her attacks slide off my shield or pushed her blade out of line with the mace. But even as she set herself for my counter- and the prescribed riposte- I instead returned to the defense and kept circling to my left. Thyna’s lavender eyes narrowed and her breath came in angry bursts. She was not winded, nor would she be for some time. But my goal was to make her frustrated rather than weary. Her greatest strength- her attacking, slashing style- was also her weakness. Because she never got hit, she did not pay enough attention to her own defense. All I needed to do was wait….

When the opening came, it surprised even me. She had gotten tired of my tactics, and drew the practice katana back just a bit too far, intending to smash through my defense. I stopped circling and pivoted on my right foot, whipping the mace backhand across her right shoulder. Perhaps it was because it was unexpected- or perhaps I was a bit angry myself- whatever the reason, the blow not only landed, but knocked Athynae completely off her feet. She landed in a seated position in a snowdrift, her befuddled expression matching my own.

[haute ecole rider]

Now, don't get me wrong.

I totally love Athynae - she is an awe-inspiring force of nature that Athlain is lucky/unlucky to fall in love with (why am I thinking of Sheogorath's line "Fall in love with a cloud?"). Yet as our steady hero has pointed out, she has never felt defeat. And defeat, if survived, is essential to growing stronger. It's high time someone pointed that out to her.

The only way she can fight that lyncanthrope is to face death itself and accept its reality. Once she does that, I think she will find the strength she needs to beat Hircine at his game.

Oh, and the details of your fight here reminds me of a few certain encounters in Sancre Tor. Julian is reading this over my shoulder and nodding full agreement.

To survive a fight with someone trained by Sethyas, you must understand that it is harmony rather than conflict. The blade meets flesh because it is foreordained.

QFT!

So nice to have an update so soon after I finish catching up!

[Black Hand]

Well done!

Hmm, TBH I hate making these types of observations as they feel self-serving but, what the hey.

The idea of Sethyas' fighting style came from eight years of working at a Sandwich Shop called Subway. A major chain both in the States and abroad, but I don't make the assumption that everyone has heard of it.

I realize that it sounds absurd, or perhaps some think that it's the bread knives we used to cut the bread. Not quite.

Rather, performing the same moves thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of times, made everything from cleaning to making sandwiches a second nature.

Mostly I didn't have to think about things, in terms of preparation, which allowed me to take in the hectic surroundings during lunch and dinner rushes.

Though I would be in the middle of making one sandwich, I would listen to the next order coming up, and I could prepare myself for the bread, the meat, the cheese, etc. with no delays in my movement. If we were low or out of the necessary ingredient, I could add that to my list.

Suffice it to say, I was the favorite "left hand" of the person who started the line, as they didn't need to tell me anything and they set the pace of the production.

I had a friend who practiced Kendo; Japanese Wooden Swordplay, done as training for a Katana, and he would tell me about his experience in sparring, and we had a conversation the mental state he was talking about, being completely still but prepared to perform the next steps in a heartbeat, reading the environment quickly as well as the opponents movements to anticipate the next step, but being prepared to change and adapt at a moments notice.

He said that I had managed to achieve that sort of Martial Art mental focus at my job, despite having only taken karate one summer fifteen years prior (I never followed through with it.)

Naturally, I was teased mercilessly about "Sandwich Fu" and the "Way of the Sub" by him for a couple of weeks afterwards, until I started carry around a bread knife...

J/K!

Probably....

But, in short, if anyone else has had that state of fluid focus then you know what I'm talking about, and that's how I imagine that Sethyas fights, and likely trained Athynae, and I see a perfect parallel in what Ser Trey is expertly narrating here.

It's not so much that Seth is a master swordsman, it's that he's paying attention on a very intense level and is calculating moves beforehand in a split second. It's also very draining however...I was more tired from that type of work than any other in my life. I can only imagine what a life-threatening adrenaline situation would put one through.

[McBadgere]

*Applauds BH for his excellent, intelligent and almost moving post*...

Now...For mine...

Aw hell yeah!!...*Bounces with excitement!!*...

That's just excellence right there!!...

Absolutely loved it!...

Svenja rose more gracefully and stared at me for a moment before stepping aside. She seemed to be trying to tell me something, but I had never been good at “reading” women- still less so when my brains were scrambled.

Yes, that would be you, being a man Athlain... ...

When the opening came, it surprised even me. She had gotten tired of my tactics, and drew the practice katana back just a bit too far, intending to smash through my defense. I stopped circling and pivoted on my right foot, whipping the mace backhand across her right shoulder. Perhaps it was because it was unexpected- or perhaps I was a bit angry myself- whatever the reason, the blow not only landed, but knocked Athynae completely off her feet. She landed in a seated position in a snowdrift, her befuddled expression matching my own.

Wow... ...I mean, oh hell Wow...

And now...I'm going to go over there *points* out of the way... ...

Absolutely fantastic stuff...Absolutely loving it!!!...

Absolutely nice one!!...

*Applauds absolutely*...

...

[minque]

This

I failed him, and that is why he left. That’s why he will leave again. Because he can’t count on me. I, Athynae Sarethi of Great House Redoran, am a failure. Everyone leaves me. The Skaal have known me longer, but now they pledge their hearts and their loyalty to him! He had to run away to the Legion to become the warrior I tried so hard to make him. And he did it- without me. He has changed; he has gone where I cannot reach him any longer. He will keep changing and he will keep leaving me farther behind. He will leave me. Like everyone. Like Uncle Seth. So leave then! GO! Change!

made me cry!

It hit me like a bang right into my heart.....the despair, the darkness, the legacy of her ...well yes I think you know what I mean here.

There is no limit to which this story will rise...I have just no words anymore, but I think I know what to do now....oh my..........

[treydog]

@haute- In the following, we finally get to see the truth behind Athynae’s thinking. And (looks around for lurking half-elven warrior princesses)- yes, she needs to learn what it feels like to lose, so that her victories will be that much sweeter. And I still have someone’s description of Sancre Tor on my list of all-time best pieces of writing I have ever read.

And it is wonderful to have you and Julian back.

@BH- I know precisely what you mean. I am NOT the most graceful person in the world, but I tend to work out the moves to doing something repetitive such that it becomes a “dance”- and one that is autonomous, allowing the mind to go about its own business.

The other source for that is the few sword exhibitions I have seen- especially the Eastern-style ones. The contestants HAVE to move in harmony, because there is a very real chance of serious injury even with practice weapons.

@McBadgere- Happy dachshund dance to accompany happy badger dance. And- yes, the state of having no clue as to what a woman is thinking is part and parcel of being male.

And- despite your hiding behind Svenja, we now get to see what Thyna thinks about all this. (I DO applaud your choice of shelter, however).

@minque- The… emotional weight of that post- and especially the one that follows, kind of caught us off-guard too. I mean- we understood that the sparring match was a key moment- but when it finally arrived, Thyna decided she has been misinterpreted for far too long- as will be seen.

And it is SO good to see you here. Always.


----------------------------------------------

“Push, push, push and they all think I am supposed to just sit back and say nothing, then when I do say something they accuse me of acting like a princess… It’s all because of him, he’s the one that keeps running away, he’s the one that keeps leaving me behind and then trying to convince me it’s for my own good. I’ve spent every bit of energy I had for my entire life being his best friend, trying to teach him how to be a warrior, a fighter…for what? So he could run off and leave me behind to join the Legion. Did he tell me he was going? No. Did I have to face the fire of both of our families because of it? Yes. I come to save him and he rewards me by LEAVING me with his family. Now, here I am again, and how does he thank me? First he steals my dagger and deserts me in a cave, then he brings me here and steals my katana and off he goes again…but I am the one that is wrong…. I am the one that should be forever grateful to the powerful high chieftain…”

The practice field was surrounded with the population of the mead hall and everyone else that we had passed on our way there along with any others that had caught the gossip on the wind. Oh, how it did travel here. I had already knocked him unconscious when I was putting on the stupid tournament garb and gotten stern looks from Svenja and Bryn for my efforts, and of course utter disbelief from Ahnya. I had already ruined that attempt at redemption, so what did it matter now?

Bryn fell in step beside me as I paced the perimeter and his presence was not a comfort. He was angry but I didn’t care; so was I. They were all trying to make this my fault. How was it my fault? How? I didn’t tell him to run off and join the Legion, I didn’t tell him to get suckered by that low life Carnius and end up addicted to skooma, I didn’t tell him to get himself appointed Chieftain, AND I DID NOT TELL HIM to steal my katana and then run off like some fraidy guar.

“Why are ye so hard ta understand? Do ye not like what I did to yer sword?” Bryn’s voice carried only when he wanted it to, so mine were the only ears to hear what he was saying.

“You of all people, Bryn, should understand; it has nothing to do with what was done to Dreamer, it has nothing to do with whether she is improved or ruined. I know she is better for having been in your hands. It is what he did to make that happen, it is the rules of friendship that he keeps breaking over and over.”

“And ye aren’t breakin’ rules when ye sucker punch him like tha? It took two of Svenja’s potions to wake him, and yer still Oblivion bent on tryin’ ta make him wish himself dead.”

I caught the edge to his voice but if I had bent the rules it was only in reaction to Athlain already having broken them. Stupid guar butt.

“I have mastered weapons. I have won tournaments; more than any other person on Vvardenfell; I am a better than average healer; I can feel when he is in danger, but the one thing that I cannot do, have never been able to accomplish, is convincing him that all I have ever wanted is to be his friend, the one that has his back.”

“And di’ it occur to ye lass tha’s all he’s aimin’ fer? To keep ye safe, ta ha’ yer back?” He was scolding me, knowing he was the only one here that could get away without one of my pre-accused “princess” responses.

“And what suddenly made him decide I needed someone to have my back? I’ve been trying to teach him how to use weapons most of our lives and beating the scrib jelly out of him in the process and now he thinks I NEED HELP?” Even as I said it another part of my mind was still running through everything that had happened with Hircine’s beast, trying to evaluate every step so that it would never happen again, and with those thoughts came the one that said to me, “Girl, you DO need help.” But that wasn’t what this was about, it was not about me at all; this was about him, this was about me keeping him safe, keeping him alive because that was what I was meant to do. Every last bit of this entire fiasco was stupid; this island affected people’s ability to use their brains. Either that or the addiction had melted some of Athlain’s gray matter…. And he had somehow infected everyone around him.

“Ha ye not noticed lass, that yer a grown lady now? He’s only doin’ wha’s right.”

“Bryn, I think the smoke in that forge has finally taken its toll…I am who I have always been. I am Athynae Sarethi, and age matters not. I am a Redoran warrior, period.”

Bryn just shook his head like I was the one that wasn’t thinking clearly. “The bottom line is this, regardless of what brought us to where we are this minute, whether you want to accuse me of misbehaving, Hircine is the end game. Whether I have Athlain’s back or he has mine, we both have to know where we stand. We both have to know what we can and cannot do in battle. I have not seen what Athlain has learned, this new-made warrior that couldn’t swing a katana without drawing his own blood not so long ago. And Bryn, I will do whatever I have to do to get him to fight, really fight, and if that means I have to act like a spoiled princess, then so be it.”

My expression told Bryn the conversation was over; I had said all that I was going to. I was tired of everyone having misconceptions about my motives but there was no way I would tell them the whole truth either; it was none of their damned business.

* * * * * *

Where was this warrior I had heard so much about? Where was the man that had protected and defended this hall and gotten himself appointed Chieftain for his efforts? One blow to the head, down he went. Svenja ran to his aid…one of the three women in my life that had shown me, taught me, how to be human, how be strong inside…right…and now she had pledged her allegiance to Athlain.

As she walked away from him she gave the signal to resume and the look she shot at me was full of disappointment and disgust. All I had ever done was disappoint these people- because what? They expected something else of me? Was I supposed to be a prissy pink princess instead? Stupid people.

Whatever happens, you have to find that place where you know that defeat is not an option. The were attack was unexpected, a new experience. But that is behind you. It doesn’t matter what happened yesterday, only that you can protect Athlain tomorrow. Find yourself; find the warrior that you became only for this purpose. The rumors are merely that obviously; although he can wield the mace better than the sword, he is not the warrior he has been touted as.

He was defending more effectively- good. But defense would not defeat an enemy; it would not save him. I left his head alone and went for his body, the ‘chinks’ in his armor, if you will, and his defense was not as solid. I will say this though, years of getting his arse handed to him taught him how to take a blow. And apparently the onlookers were as disgusted with me as those that I had considered almost family, because they had departed; they did not wish to see the beating of their chieftain by the hoity toity princess.

They didn’t understand. No one did or probably ever would because I could not tell them. I could not explain that it was my self-appointed position to teach him to be a warrior and to protect him until I knew that he was capable of his greatest desire- to be the equal of his father. My entire focus had been on teaching him to fight and learning all I could about healing. The healing part was as much for me as him, that was my ‘after’ goal, until now. I would be a warrior forever now, because I could not teach anyone to fight and by my efforts had taught myself to be the warrior I wanted him to be. I failed him, and that is why he left. That’s why he would leave again. Because he couldn’t count on me. I, Athynae Sarethi of Great House Redoran, was a failure. Everyone left me. The Skaal had known me longer, but now they pledged their hearts and their loyalty to him! He had to run away to the Legion to become the warrior I tried so hard to make him. And he did it- without me. He had changed, he had gone where I could not reach him any longer. He would keep changing and he would keep leaving me farther behind. He would leave me. Like everyone. Like Uncle Seth. So leave then! GO! Change!

Athlain dropped his shield and my anger at him for his abuse of our lifelong friendship sent me hurtling toward the end of this ridiculous spoof of a sparring match. Down to the ground he went and I prepared myself to strike the ‘end blow’. And out of nowhere a small projectile dislodged me from my course. I immediately turned my attack and rolled my arm to offer the cause of my relocation a pommel to brain.

“Slow time,” a skill I had tried to teach myself to call upon at will but had never been quite able to accomplish, brought my vision into focus. Between one heartbeat and the next, I could see everything, could evaluate it, could realize that my assailant was Ahnya. She was a picture of courage and bravery standing over Athlain. Here this child was, feeling the need to protect him, standing in what should have been my position…but that was a thought for another day. I stopped myself before the blow landed; I could not strike her. She was only doing what her heart told her to do.

“Stop it! What’s wrong with you? Leave him alone.”

Seeing her standing there like that, seeing myself in memories that would never fade, screaming at myself to stop hurting him and my mind begging him to defend. All it takes is one opening, just one. Defend until it comes, then take it and make it count. I did not care what anyone thought, if you haven’t guessed, but I remembered every practice session. I remembered every bruise, cut, tear, sprain and break, not because I was what you seem to think, not because I thought I was the high and mighty warrior, but because every injury to him was an injury to me. Every time my weapon touched him, it meant I had not done a good job of teaching him. Now that translated into his death at the hands of Hircine unless I could somehow keep it from happening. My options weren’t many; either I allowed him to accompany me and ran the risk of being distracted by my need to protect him and failed- or I beat him to the point that he could not go at all, either out of shame or due to injury. Because there was no proof now that he was the warrior rumor made him out to be. How did this happen?

Svenja had pinned Athlain to the wall and although I could not hear her past my own mind racing for options, it was worse than any scolding I had ever seen him get from Aunt Baria. I looked at Ahnya and all I wanted to do was disappear. I had broken her heart. I had tried to tell her I was not what she thought. Now she knew. All I could hope was that the moments I had spent with her, teaching her to use a bow, would not be wasted. She could view me as the failure I was, as long as she took what she could use from the lesson and honed her own skills as a hunter.

When Athlain started toward me something was different, he was….taller, his shoulders were wider and he had a ‘warrior’s face’ on that I had never seen before. At the time all of that registered somewhere, because later I would recall it. But it didn’t hit the spot in my brain that needed to have said, looking back, “Change tactics”.

We started the dance again, but this time it was different. The beginning was the same, the rhythm was the same, but then it was disjointed, broken, and I couldn’t find the music. I was leading- but I still felt as if I was a step behind. The one solace I found was that he was defending…well sort of. He wasn’t taking the openings and I left them, not because I intended to, but because he was not dancing a dance I could find the steps for…and my frustration was mounting. I moved, almost got my elbow between his body and his shield- I hate shields by the way- they are stupid. And I loaded my katana to deliver the blow that would truly bring this display to a crashing halt and….

From the distant ether I heard an unfamiliar metallic grind that drew my attention back to the muddled dance just in time to step outside my head and see my miscalculation. I could see the mace coming, but there was nothing I could do except take the blow. And it was without doubt the hardest I had ever been hit, ever. I lost my feet and found my butt, sitting in a snowdrift. No air in my lungs, no air…the swelling of the tissue of my right shoulder had begun on impact. I was struggling to get my lungs to expand and fill as I looked up into Athlain’s face, which was a combination of victory and fear; not the fear of retribution, the fear that he had injured me…that look shocked my lungs into action and a deep gust of ice cold air rushed through and it was like water in the face.

Everything swirled into the most amazing feeling I had ever experienced. This was what I had worked toward; this was all that I had ever wanted to see. I had never truly set out to be an expert weapons wielder; my true intention was to ensure that he was. And now I could celebrate my ultimate win, the one for which there would never be a trophy, other than my knowledge that I had succeeded at the life’s purpose I had assigned myself when we were just children, the last goal I had listed before I became an adult on my 4th birthday.

I searched for a face that would understand, and my eyes met Ahnya’s. The joy I felt blurred my vision, and I am sure my smile was the widest she had ever seen. I tried to send my thoughts to her and what I got in return was a look that said I needed a healing draught because I had lost my mind. Bryn didn’t know what to think either, so he fell back on formality, bellowing, “Time. This match be concluded. Seconds, attend yer fighters.”

“Seconds?” The only second I had ever had- the only one I had ever wanted- was the person who had just put me backside first into the snow. Who here would wish to assist me?

But before that thought had even completed itself, my injured shoulder felt the gentle touch of one of Ahnya’s hands as she offered liquid healing with the other. Her eyes were great pools of emotion. The depth of her concern startled me, but I waved the potion away with a smile. My heart was too full for words, so I gestured. She helped me to my feet only to watch as I hurled myself at Athlain, leaving the stupid wooden practice sword lying in the snow. Svenja stood in front of Athlain, and at first appeared as if she was going to be a wall preventing me from getting to him, but at the last moment she must have decided either she wasn’t willing to take a full on charge for anyone or that my intent was not murderous, so she moved aside. For the briefest moment he guarded, but when he saw my face he dropped his shield. I threw my left arm around his neck because my right was positively useless, but even so I took us both to the ground again.

A counterpoint to the scream of pain from my shoulder injury was my joyful whisper into his ear, “You did it! You did it!”

[Black Hand]

Ah, I see what you did there. The ol' bait and switch.

Masterfully prepared with a perfect example of perception and it's ability to limit and confine us to one mode of thinking; only to blindside us with the truth later. Like the modified saying goes: "There's three sides to every story. Yours, mine, and the Truth."

Nicely written there Athynae. I liked the bit about "Slow Time", and it shows you understand it better than I could have written it.

I am very pleased as to this stories continuation; and would like to remind its principal Author, that I have here, a dusty copy of the "Balding Spell" given to me in the event of an emergency by your guest-writer, and should it begin to decline in it's rate of updates just as it's becoming more and more engrossing...well, let's just say I hope you can pull off the Buddhist Monk look.



This post has been edited by Black Hand: May 3 2013, 02:40 AM

[McBadgere]

D'you know...I'm suspecting that I'm the recipient of one (or more) of these Balding Spells...Hmmm... ...The only obvious explaination...Yep...

Ooooh lookie!!...

Another part!!!...

See, I'm loving that fact from the start!!...None for ages and then loads all at once...*Sighs contentedly*... ...

Brilliant chapter!!...Having finally gotten the point (narf!) out of the way...Hopefully, they can all calm down now and get their heads down and Quest™!!!!...

Again, Bryn was a star of the piece in a massively understated way...But that's sometimes the best way with these Nords... ...

Brilliantly insightful...Wonderous writing...Beautiful... ...

Looking forward to wherever the Quest™ leads...(Hopefully to one less Daedra... )...

Love it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

[Grits]

The great thing about falling behind is the catching up. I had the delight of reading these last parts together, and then reading them all together again (and again ). It was an absolute joy to watch the understanding between them unfold. The sparring was magnificent. The emotional and “what it means” aspect even more so. All I can say is, beautiful!!

[haute ecole rider]

How delightful to see Athynae's viewpoint and to appreciate where she is coming from.

That said, I can only shake my head at the hopelessness of it all. Athlain just can't get what 'Thyna is doing, nor can she get what he is doing! I know Athlain has been trying to explain it to 'Thyna, and I know she is trying to explain it to him as well, but one thing both have failed to do is to listen to each other. A common shortcoming in many people, as I've noticed over the years.

I can't wait for them to reach that point in their relationship: once they do they will be a duo to take on the world!

[mALX]

Coming back to read/catch up - 4 chapters behind. "I'll be back!" (said in Arnold's voice)

[treydog]

Interlude 17

An excerpt from The Prophecies of the Hunter

The Blood Moon rises and the Hunter plans
Turns the prey’s strength to His advantage

Snares to entangle the swift
Thickets to hinder the strong
Mazes to dazzle the wise
False trails to bewilder the cunning

The Hunter has chosen his ground
He sends the pack to harry the prey


An excerpt from The Way of the Sword by Gaiden Ildean

If one chooses the sword, it cannot be an idle dalliance. The sword demands your whole heart. Treat her well and she will be more constant than any lover.


A note left at Thirsk, Solstheim, (a portion):

The boy is right. You need to work on defense. Also, we have discussed that habit of dropping your left elbow too soon. I am glad to see that Dreamer has finally reached her potential.

And I am pleased that the boy has proved that he is able to guard you as you have guarded him. If you allow it, your trust will be rewarded. And speaking of rewards, please be sure young Athlain understands the significance of the token I left him. He has never given up, either.

S.


A letter posted from Thirsk, Solstheim to Sarethi Manor, Vvardenfell (a portion):

…do not understand what purpose is served by having him skulking about. Is he supposed to be watching me? Or is this some form of punishment? If either of you has something to say to me- just SAY it. If I am to do what I must, I cannot afford to be distracted by some ridiculous game.

[haute ecole rider]

Ah, I am most delighted by those tantalizing scraps of paper/letters! I can just hear the voices of their authors.

Bravo!

Can we have more? Please?

[Black Hand]

Another interlude.

Another part, and the path continues. I do not relish the thought of an ending, but still realize that the journey is the most important part.

Destinations are inevitable. Why hurry?

[McBadgere]

What?...Interludes aren't supposed to take more time than the actual MQ of the thing? ...I had no idea... ...

Very intriguing...And obviously excellent...

Looking forward to the next part...Though I'm lost as to who's go it is next... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[treydog]

@Black Hand- Well- did not want Thyna to get a reputation for predictability. And you hit upon the key concept- she has always known the “why” of what she is doing. She is just less than patient with all the people (read- the whole rest of the world) who “don’t get it.” And she is less than gracious when it comes to explaining her actions. The “Slow Time” probably took longer to iron out the way we wanted than most of the rest of the post. It was hard to describe in TES-friendly terms, and avoid cinematic language. Most pleased that it worked.

Um--- um. Balding spell. Oh dear. Look at the time. Must go see a pen about a pixel. I mean off to write. Yes indeed.

Oh- and um, yes well. We kind of “borrowed” Seth again for the Interlude. It seemed obvious that he would be somewhere nearby during such an important moment in Athynae’s life.

@McBadgere- I do not doubt that some stray balding spell fallout (oh I do crack myself up)… found its way to Wales. Not sure if it reversible, but you could certainly post up lots of new story and see what happens… Just saying….

With threats from lurking assassins (see above)- as well as new inspiration, I hope we will have new parts more frequently. And yes- it is about time they got around to seeing about what it was that brought us all here in the first place. There will be more showcasing of one of the “minor” characters in this next bit… They have their own stories it seems- and rather feel like having them heard.

Many thanks.

I could write an Interlude noting- “A whole lot of stuff happened; some people lived, others died; and then, as quickly as it began- it was over.”

The fact that I would not only be lynched, but also rendered bald, rather prevents me from doing so. Which means the torches and pitchforks can just go back into the closet- and the balding spells can be pointed that way, thanks very much.

@Grits- You know, part of why it took this part so long to “cook” was because I got too caught up in worrying about how the physical combat would play out. What got it unstuck was realizing- through a number of conversations with my co-author- that the real conflict was within Athynae herself. When we write scenes that get your seal of approval- we know we have done well.

@haute- Yes, they do rather tend to talk past each other most of the time. A good thing about Athlain still being able to occasionally “hear” Athynae’s thoughts is that he at last knows some of her reasons for pushing him so hard for so many years. To put it another way- I blame Azura….

And more you shall have. The Interludes are fun, because they give me a chance to toss out scraps of information- and also to hint at whole subplots that may never be fully explored- except in the reader’s imagination.

@mALX- And we hope that you will have great joy in the reading. I know that we are wonderfully happy to have you doing so.


As to where we are- I wrote a humorous summary- which got eaten by the internet. So phooey. Here is Chapter 17.

Where we are (attempt the second). The A and A team have worked out some of their “trust issues” in the time-honored tradition of beating upon each other with practice weapons. The result of which was Athlain knocking Athynae into a snowdrift. And, because she is a complex person, and also because that result is one she has been working to achieve for years, Athynae was pleased with the outcome. Before she passed out.

Perhaps now, with some of the baggage cleared out of the way, they can prove that they do not have Nac Mac Feegle as well as Nord in their heritage, and actually get out of a mead hall. (Although- as far as we know, Athynae is not Nordish- despite her currently red hair. And anyway, that is a whole other fictional universe). However, if they do accomplish the feat, two missions (possibly connected?) await them- finding Athlain’s missing Legion commander and kicking princely Daedric buttock. The second goal is because Hircine has called the Great Hunt, and in so doing has selected two of my favorite characters to “participate.” (No- not Bryn and Svenja- two of my other favorite characters).

In a preliminary to that little set-to, a werewolf attacked and infected Athynae, who thought she was saving Athlain (again!) She was cured, but the Daedric Prince of Fleas interfered with the cure and left her night-blind, thus creating another point she would like to “discuss” with him. She is now better equipped to do so, as she has a really cool sword, courtesy of Athlain. However, Athlain almost got himself killed in the getting of the sword, because, well- it was already her sword and he took it to be “improved” without asking. There is probably much more, but I hear the telltale sizzling of a balding spell being loaded, so- let’s have some story, shall we?



-------------------------------

Chapter 17

Winning a match against Athynae, and doing so decisively, was a new experience. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if I could have seen anything except the great black spot on her otherwise pristine white practice tunic- and the swelling of her shoulder beneath it. Carbo’s words about the mace as a weapon echoed in my head:

Some people look down on maces because they don’t have an edge. But only because they’ve never been hit by one. It’s a bone-breaker, pure and simple. And it doesn’t require finesse to do serious damage. You hit somebody with a mace- anywhere- and he’s going to know he’s been kissed.

I winced at the remembered metaphor and began to reach a hand to channel healing magic into the wound. It was more serious than anything I had ever attempted- shoulders are complex- but…. Two huge hands grasped Thyna gently around the waist and lifted her off of me. As he set her back on her feet, Bryn managed to look simultaneously pleased and concerned, despite his abundance of facial hair. He supported the wavering Thyna and rumbled:

“Shhh, lass. Hold ye still and let Svenja have a look.”

With Ahnya’s help, he loosed the ties on the tunic and the straps of the pauldron underneath. Svenja probed the shoulder, her eyes narrowed in concentration, muttering a commentary to herself.

“Bruising, cracked the socket, collarbone too, I shouldn’t wonder.”

She used a couple of deft strokes of her knife to turn the tunic into a sling, immobilizing the arm. Somewhere during that time, Athynae lost consciousness, which would have annoyed her to no end had she been able to witness it. As for me, a wave of nausea engulfed me, and I crawled away from the group to decorate the snow with the remnants of my breakfast. For a while, I just stayed there, hunched on my hands and knees. Perhaps I could maintain that pose until the snow covered me. In fact, I could feel the first flakes settling on the back of my neck. Except- it was not snow- but a small white hand that reached to brush my hair from my forehead.

Then came a quiet voice.

“She will be fine, my lord. Cousin Svenja is a wonderful healer. She trained with Serene, after all.”

Ahnya. Was there no limit to this girl? First, she had confronted Thyna, had stood over me and been ready to take a blow to defend me. And then, when Bryn had called the seconds forward, she had gone to Athynae’s side. That had always been my place- I was the only second she would have, in every competition she had ever entered. But now…. With that one strike of the practice mace, so much had been changed, shattered, knocked sidewise. And yet, through my tangle of emotions, I understood that this change was necessary. Though I could- in fact must- stand by Thyna’s side, from this day forward, it would be as an equal, not as an aide. And who better than Ahnya to step into my previous role?

Svenja had completed her examination and directed the smith, “Bryn, let’s get her upstairs. I want to get a healing potion into her, as well as some essence of poppy. Otherwise, she will try to heal it herself.”

The smith cradled Athynae in his arms and carried her to her room. I followed, because while Ahnya might now be her second, I was still her best friend and my place was by her side. I was done with trying to leave her behind, with sending her away. My own body ached from the sparring match, but my heart sang as I recalled the undisguised joy in her eyes as she whispered, “You did it.” Her shoulder would heal soon- and now- so would the wound that had gaped between us for so long. We would still argue- would still shout at one another- our relationship had not changed that much. But neither of us would ever again feel as of we had failed the warrior code we had adopted almost as soon as we could walk.

Our parents had not been pleased with that pledge, had hoped we would “grow out of it;” but we never did. Mother understood better than anyone, I think, except perhaps for Sethyas. I remembered listening in as Mother spoke with Father and Serene one night, when I was supposed to be in bed.

“Both of you joined Great House Redoran when you were adults.” She stopped Father’s murmured protest by reminding him, “Yes, dear, I know you were very young- in years- but not in experience.”

She paused and I could hear the sadness, as well as the smile behind which it hid.

“But those two were born into this cauldron of honor and obligation and the warrior tradition. You can no more tell Athynae and Athlain to be something else then I can ask a scathecraw to produce apples. What we can do is make sure that we give them every chance to survive. Both of you were able to set aside the sword, but that was a choice. And it does not alter all of the things you did before making that decision. So. How shall we proceed?”

I leaned closer to hear, being careful not to bump into the door at which I listened.

“Is Athlain as hopeless with the sword as it seems- or is it simply because he senses your disapproval?”

I could not hear Father’s response- he usually spoke in low tones- but Mother’s words made his answer clear, at least partly.

“Then you need to encourage him to…,” she apparently poured tea for everyone, because the rattle of cups and plates covered her next words. “Serene, I hope you can help with that?”

I heard her sigh as she settled back into her own chair in the study.

“We cannot stop our children from pursuing this course- we can only guide them and do everything in our power to keep them alive.”

Her last words had a wistful tone, “And perhaps in the fullness of time, they can also emulate you in setting aside their weapons. I will live with that hope. I must.”

After Bryn had placed Thyna on her bed, Svenja dismissed us with an impatient wave of the hand.

“Ahnya and I need to get her out of that armor and you will only be in the way.”

I paced the gallery outside the rooms, trying to distract myself by listening to the revelry below. I sincerely hoped that today’s episode would not find its way into song. I might be able to live with verses detailing the beating I had received, or even my digestive issues- but endless renditions of how I had broken Thyna’s shoulder would be unbearable. Bryn seemed to sense my thoughts, for he stopped me with a gentle hand and a quiet word.

“Be ye at peace, lad. Herself holds nae grudge for what passed. In truth, she be mightily pleased wi’ ye. Ye knew it not, but giving her that knock was the answer to her heart’s desire. As fer me, my plate will be full, fixin’ the dints ye twain made in one another’s armor.”

I did not bother to point out that the only “dints” were in my armor, so he smiled and disappeared down the stairs and out the door.

A few minutes later, Svenja ushered me into Athynae’s room. A slight frown creased her brow.

“We set the shoulder and I dosed her, but she is fighting the poppy. I have never known anyone so stubborn. Perhaps your presence will calm her. She wants something- but I know not what it is. I am going to make sure the hunters don’t tear down the hall, and then I will check back in a few hours.”

I approached the bed and saw that although Athynae was asleep, it was as Svenja had said; she was not resting. She was propped up on several pillows and her right shoulder and arm were swathed in linen. It was a familiar scene, except that until now, I had been the one bandaged and lying in bed. Her eyes moved restlessly beneath the lids and her left hand lay twitching on top of the covers. It opened and closed, as if trying to grasp something. Ahnya spoke quietly from the opposite side of the bed:

“Oh look, she wants to hold your hand! Isn’t that romantic?”

I only restrained myself from laughing with great difficulty. Thyna was many things, the vast majority of them good, but she was not “romantic.” That trait was reserved for my youngest sister and her addiction to dreamy Imperial novels. Dreamy…?

“She doesn’t want to hold my hand- she wants her sword! Ahnya- if you would please?”

I asked Ahnya to bring Dreamer rather than doing so myself for two reasons. First, it was now her responsibility to take care of Thyna’s arms and armor. More important, I would never again touch one of her blades without her permission.

“Are you certain, sera?” Her eyes darted from Dreamer to Athynae. “It’s just that she is rather… possessive of her sword. I have no wish to face her in the arena. She knocked you out… twice… and you have Legion training.”

“Ahnya, you are her second. One of your duties will be caring for her gear. Besides, you are giving the sword to her, not taking it away. And while you are about it, please place her dagger under the pillows.”

If Ahnya had hesitated before, she became positively frozen. She chewed her lip and twisted her hands together.

“Is that wise? What if she wakes in a fog from the poppy and… makes a mistake?”

I did smile at that. “Athynae never makes mistakes with her blades. And I assure you- that dagger has been under her pillow every morning when you wake her.”

Ahnya’s eyes grew huge. “But… my lord, I do not ‘wake her.’ I just leave the tea on the bedside table where she can smell it and then I leave. Quietly.”

“A wise choice. You will make an outstanding hunter.”

“I hope so. But- that is another thing. I never asked to be her second. And she never asked me, either. I don’t know how to be second. I don’t even know how to be a third.”

My brain experienced a stutter like a malfunctioning Dwemer construct as I tried to decipher Ahnya’s “explanation”. Finally, I just mentally shrugged and plowed ahead.

“When Bryn called for the seconds to come forward, you stepped up, did you not?”

“She was hurt. What was I supposed to do, just let her lie there? I was simply acting as her friend.”

My heart filled at her simple declaration. “Then continue as you have begun. She does not have many friends.”

“She is more complicated than a double game of horker chess. But she taught me how to use the bow, and offered much wisdom about all weapons. She did not treat me as a child. But she is hardly older than I am. How does that happen?”

“When Mistress Athynae Sarethi sets her sights upon a goal, she does not give up. Besides, she declared herself an adult at the age of 4.”

Ahnya laughed at that and quickly covered her mouth with her hands, fearful of disturbing her patient.

“But, sera- that’s just silly.”

I nodded in agreement. “For anyone else, perhaps so. But that was the day the Ahemmusa gave Athynae her first bow. And it was not a toy, but a real bow, sized to fit her hands.”

The girl still looked skeptical. “At that age, anything is a ‘toy,’ isn’t it?”

“Judge for yourself. A few days later, she used it to kill a diseased cave rat that had gotten into her room. She did not call for the steward until afterward, and then only because she wanted to have it mounted as her first trophy.”

Ahnya stared out the window, looking toward the north. She was quiet for so long that I began to think the conversation was over. At last she looked at me, with tears standing in her eyes. She whispered:

“Does being her second mean that I… that I have to go with her, when she faces the Prince of the Hunt?”

“Oh Ahnya. No! Your place is here. Neither of us would ever ask anyone else to take the path we must follow. I do not doubt your courage, or your skill. But… by the Nine- no!

I shuddered at the thought of putting anyone else in danger. I was doubtful enough of the outcome already. But that was a worry for another day.


”Now, as her friend, please. Bring her blades to her. Believe me, she will rest better with them close to hand.”

Ahnya did as I asked, although she handled Dreamer as if afraid the katana might set her hands on fire at any moment. When she had settled the sword into Thyna’s hand and the dagger beneath the pillows, she breathed an audible sigh of relief. Then she looked at me, and sounding almost like Svenja, intoned:

“And now you should seek your bed.”

“As should you.”

“No, sera. I am not leaving her. What if she needs something?”

“I will be here.”

“But… I am not certain that is proper.”

“Ahnya, after the beating she gave me, I am not sure I can even move from this chair.”

She considered for a moment and then gave a decisive nod. “In that case, I will bring you one of Svenja’s healing potions. And a blanket. And I will also stay here. I can use the window seat.”

She turned to look at the figure on the bed and murmured, “Look, she is finally resting.”

And so it was. Athynae had turned onto her left side, Dreamer cradled against her, her breathing slow and regular.

This post has been edited by treydog: May 12 2013, 12:58 PM

[Black Hand]

*Refolds dusty parchment.*

This will do Trey, this will do.

(SGM!)

[McBadgere]

Utterly brilliant...Just...Amazing...

As a wise man once said, when I grow up, I want to write like this... ...

With Ahnya’s help, he loosed the ties on the tunic and the straps of the pauldron underneath. Svenja probed the shoulder, her eyes narrowed in concentration, muttering a commentary to herself.

“Bruising, cracked the socket, collarbone too, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Ouchie... ...Remind me to avoid any maces that lie about the house...Not that we...No...Of course not... ...

Loved the whole interch...Um...Chat between Athlain and Ahnya...(How many bloody "A" characters are ye having lad? )...

As for the secondary character thing...I'm pretty sure I read somewhere...Although I can't for the life of me remember where, and it sounds too clever for it to be my diseased mind to have come up with to justify my bazillion characters...Aaanyways, the line goes something like -

"There's no such thing as a secondary character...Just other stories..."

I love Ahnya...I think she's been a brilliant addition...

The whole story is amazing...I'm so glad I joined all that time ago...It's been a blessing to have this to read...

Absolutely nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

[haute ecole rider]

I have to agree with McB - there are no secondary characters, just stories waiting their turn to be told.

I have a whole series of novels written that do just this - the "secondary characters" of the first novel gets their story told in the next one, then secondary characters in the second get the third, and so on. I have about five of those daisy-chained stories completed and love each of those characters!

Anyway, the quiet time after Athynae passed out is quite delicious. I enjoyed Athlain's musings and could hear him growing more in this installment. Their relationship moves forward, and yes, they will keep fighting but now they are equals. That's a great step ahead for them.

And yes, I'm with Athlain - Athynae is not a romantic! Like him, I figured she was looking for her blades. Wasn't surprised that she settled down once she got them where they belonged!

[mALX]

*

Not caught up yet, just wanted to quote this - LOVED IT !!!!!!!! Did you make this up? I couldn't find the book in the Imperial Library! Awesome!

An excerpt from The Way of the Sword by Gaiden Ildean

If one chooses the sword, it cannot be an idle dalliance. The sword demands your whole heart. Treat her well and she will be more constant than any lover.

Awesome Write so far as I've gotten!


*

This post has been edited by mALX: May 13 2013, 07:39 PM