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Ch 43 Sparring

  Emlyn wakes early and practically jogs to the breakfast hall. Piling up her plate, she tears into crispy pork, flat bread, fruit, and cheese. As she’s eating, Urlin drops a tray onto the table across from her and curses softly. Emlyn looks up and grins as Urlin wipes hot tea off his hand.

  “You ready for this?” he asks, quietly amused.

  “More than you know,” Emlyn replies, covering her mouth with her hand so she can keep eating. Urlin chuckles, “I give you points for enthusiasm. We’ll see if you can earn any in the ring. If you get tired, take a knee, and we’ll break so you can rest and get your wind back. I’ve swiped some wooden weapons.”

  As the two talk and eat, the rest of the cohort arrives. Benger sits down next to Emlyn, “If we see any guards, you pass me your sword and we’ll pretend that you’re just watching us spar.”

  Falnor gives Urlin a friendly nudge as he sits down next to him, “You’ll have your work cut out for you. She managed to land a couple of strikes on Yanthus.”

  Snorting, Urlin shrugs, “I’ve heard, but I want to see for myself. If we’re going to help her train, we’ll need to see what she can do now so we know if she’s making progress or not.”

  Pointing at Urlin with her fork, Emlyn grins, “I knew, out of everyone, that you’d understand. When we get back from this break, I’ll want to start testing my abilities regularly to see what else has come back and how well it's working.”

  “We’ll be your guinea pigs,” Saris agrees as he starts shoveling in his breakfast, “Maybe not for turning undead or detect evil, but most anything else.”

  “I’ve got the patrol assignments,” Benger adds helpfully, “and we should be safe enough if we stay near the earth garden in the grove of trees. There’s only a skeleton crew patrolling since the temple is about to close, and they’ll be up on the wall, so the trees and statues will provide good cover. You two can wail on each other for as long as Nia’s capable of dishing out the punishment.”

  “I don’t know how long it will be,” Emlyn shrugs, “I’ve been chugging my potions and spent yesterday healing myself as much as I could, so I suppose we’ll see what I can do.”

  “Hopefully, that’s been good for you,” Saris grins, “Give Urlin hell, just not too much hell.”

  “Pfft,” Emlyn shrugs, sipping at her tea, “We’re using wooden weapons. I barely made it out of the chapel yesterday. I’ll be happy if I can land a few blows before I have to stop. I’m just hoping not to be too much of an embarrassment.”

  Robis rolls his eyes and nudges Madil, “She landed blows on Yanthus, and she’s hoping not to be an embarrassment. You’ve been healed a lot since then. I know Davilla and Vanya have been dosing you with the new potions. I know Ember healed you himself a few times, and the clerics took a few more turns at that. You’ve been healing yourself, too, now that you can again. I’ll be expecting a better performance than a tap or two on Urlin.”

  “I’ll try not to disappoint you,” Emlyn shrugs, “but I’m not making any promises.”

  “Don’t wear your special gambeson,” Madil advises, “If we do get caught, that’ll only make it worse.”

  Nodding at the caution of her comrades, Emlyn contrives to return to her quarters and swap out the gambeson that she’s wearing. This version of her heavily padded jacket has some less-than-obvious surprises hidden within it, allowing her to train with weights similar to what her plate armor will be when it's finally ready.

  Tossing back her tea, Emlyn gets an odd look, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to go take care of something.”

  “Going to change your gambeson?” Benger asks with a laconic grin.

  “Wardrobe malfunction,” Emlyn replies, “Not something I’d expect you to understand, since you lack some of the requisite physical attributes.”

  When Benger looks puzzled, Emlyn gestures vaguely to her chest and trots off toward her room to adjust her strapping and swap out her gambeson.

  Saris waits for Emlyn to get out of sight before he looks at Benger and shrugs, “I knew things would be a bit different with a girl in our merry little crew, but out of everything I’ve considered, I don’t think I anticipated having issues with her boobs busting loose.”

  When everyone at the table turns to give him a look, he shrugs. “I know my sister straps her… um… chest when she competes in archery contests. According to my sister, they can be quite problematic.”

  “I’ve met your sister,” Madil frowns, “I didn’t think she was…” At a loss for how to phrase it without being offensive, Madil repeats Emlyn’s vague gesture to his chest area and shrugs before adding, “Well… you know…. Overly large.”

  The group chatter devolves into good-natured teasing until Emlyn returns, when an awkward silence descends.

  Rolling her eyes, she gestures to Urlin, “If you’re done eating, lead the way.”

  “Done enough for before a match,” Urlin agrees and stands up, “The slackers here can catch up when they’re done discussing your boobs vs Saris’s sisters’ boobs and trying to understand why you’d want to strap them down.”

  Grinning widely, Emlyn shrugs eloquently, “If they had them, they’d understand the problem. I think a match or two with some pillows tucked into their jerkins would help them understand it. The trick is that they can be almost as sensitive as your dangly bits, but they’re right up front, where they quite often get hit. Bows can really be a problem if the string happens to smack something sensitive so it’s best to make sure that they’re out of the way. Any other questions I can answer for you?”

  Urlin chuckles quietly beside her, “I think you’ve embarrassed them enough for now. Let’s go see how well you can fight.”

  Bowing formally to Urlin with a smirk, “Please, lead the way, since you seem to know where we’re going.”

  Smirking back, Urlin offers her his arm and the two stroll off while the rest of the group breaks into laughter.

  Once in the middle of the grove of trees, Emlyn looks around, noting that they’re pretty well hidden from anyone patrolling on the wall. The rest of the cohort joins quickly, and an air of anticipation develops rapidly among the onlookers.

  Urlin hands Emlyn her wooden sword, and Emlyn frowns at the single blade. “Just one?” she asks.

  Grinning, Urlin waggles his own at her, “I could only get two without getting caught. I’ll have you know that these things are a bit uncomfortable when they’re shoved into my pants.”

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  Snorting, Emlyn grins back, “I suppose I should be happy you didn’t make me fish my sword out.”

  Laughing softly, Urlin rolls through the rules of the bout. “I’ll add one more to the usual list. If you’re winded, take a knee and we’ll halt while you recover. Agreed?”

  Emlyn nods and performs a salute with her sword. Urlin returns her salute, and the two of them square off, prowling around each other looking for an opening. Without warning and seemingly coordinated, the two rush at each other. Urlin makes a swift overhead strike that Emlyn deftly parries and follows with a quick lunge.

  Urlin dodges aside and swings at her again, but Emlyn parries again and tries to hook his foot to trip Urlin.

  Urlin spins out of the trap and waggles his sword at her again, “Sneaky. I like it.”

  “Hrmph,” Emlyn grunts, “I’ll have to try a bit harder.”

  “I think I’m glad I only gave you one sword,” Urlin teases.

  “Be glad you didn’t give her a shield,” Benger calls, “She bent my brigantine with hers when we first fought.”

  “Did you really?” Urlin asks her.

  “I did,” Emlyn replies wryly, “but that was in the dream space where I’m not as limited as I am now.”

  Nodding, Urlin sets himself and signals for her to attack. Eyes narrowed, Emlyn launches herself at Urlin. The clack of the wooden swords echoes through the grove. The pair breaks apart and comes together again and again, clashing against each other in a dance of both discipline and chaos. They feint and thrust; heavily padded gambesons absorb the impact of their blows. The two continue to clash until Benger notices that Emlyn has gone pale but is refusing to take a knee.

  Wading into the bout, he calls a halt to the fight. Once the bout is halted, Emlyn is bent over, sides heaving, with her hands on her thighs, when Benger reaches out and mumbles a prayer. Saris and Madil follow suit while Urlin observes her.

  When she’s done panting, Urlin nods in her direction, “Next time, take the knee. There’s no shame in stopping the bout. We can mark our positions and pick it back up. Now, though, you’ll have to lie down and rest for a while.”

  Ruefully, Emlyn nods in agreement, still breathing hard. Finding a grassy spot, she flops down while Falnor, Saris, and Madil sit nearby observing her in case she needs more healing to recover.

  Benger pulls Urlin out of Emlyn’s range of hearing. “What do you think?”

  “Gods above,” Urlin rubs a hand across his face, “I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to go at that pace. If that’s how her people battle, no wonder the Goddess brought her here.”

  “That’s been my impression of her, too,” Benger nods in agreement, “She’s healing far faster than anyone predicted. Some of that is the new potions, but even those use ingredients she suggested. Some of it seems to be her inherent affinity for the Goddess’s magic. Some of it seems to be the things she does.”

  “What do you mean by things she does?” Urlin asks.

  “The way she eats. The swimming, dancing, stretching, and balance exercises that she does. She pushes herself constantly to recover, so some of it is just her drive.”

  “Is this anything our healers can use?” Urlin asks.

  “They already are,” Benger replies, “Odous has already been asked to see if he can scale up the kind of meals that she’s been getting. They’re looking at building a new kitchen to do it. They’re building an artificial pond where patients can swim. The dancing master has been tasked with devising simplified steps that people can repeat to music. One of the clerics has been meeting her every morning in the gardens to do stretching and balance exercises so that they can teach them to the Temple’s patients.”

  “Maybe we can learn some things from her, too,” Urlin says patiently, “I think I could learn quite a lot from her. She was handicapped by having only a single sword, yet still managed to give a quite good account of herself. Dual-wielding isn’t something you pick up overnight.”

  “And not something you set aside at whim, either,” Benger adds, “once you’ve learned it.”

  After some time, Emlyn sits up. “That’s enough lying about,” she announces to no one in particular.

  Rolling to her feet, Emlyn starts moving slowly through some basic calisthenics.

  Saris watches her for a few moments, “What’s all this? What are you doing?”

  “Working out the kinks so I can have another go,” Emlyn replies as another blue nimbus rolls across her.

  “Gods above,” Madil swears, “You don’t even have to pray now. You’ve only refreshed your spells once, and you’re already able just to think it, and the magic comes to you.”

  “Saying it out loud works better,” Emlyn replies, “It’s far stronger and more reliable. I have to be pretty focused to get it to work. Anything more than just some light chatter and I’m too distracted, and then it doesn’t work.”

  “It’s still impressive,” Madil agrees, “I’ve only ever seen one person who was able to do that, and he’d been consecrated for years, not just overnight.”

  “I’m still figuring out what’s working again,” Emlyn shrugs, “and what isn’t yet, and how well it’s working. I keep trying things to see what happens.”

  “I know that you see your injuries as weakness,” Benger says as he wanders over to observe her calisthenics, “but I think it’s also a chance to prove to yourself just how strong you really are.”

  When Emlyn starts to protest, he shakes his head, “No, I won’t hear it any more than the Goddess will. I’ve watched you, almost since you came here. You’ve been battling as hard as anyone I think I’ve ever seen. First, to live, then to walk, now to fight again. Even handicapped as you were, you held your own with Urlin. That’s not something that many can do, even in top condition, and you’re far from being in top condition. You’re still battling. I am certain you have your reasons. Just slow down some and let yourself heal. Then we can help you go after whatever it is once you’re back at full strength.”

  “That’s not what concerns me,” Emlyn grouses with a significant look at Falnor and Madil.

  “She’s more worried about something coming here after her,” Madil explains, “I’m not sure what it is, but I know that Ember takes it seriously.”

  “That explains a bit,” Benger says, “I know that the official story is that you were fighting with some fire elementals, and they got the best of you. It would certainly explain the burns, but your injuries weren’t just burns. You were practically shredded inside, too. Elementals wouldn’t be able to do that. Just what did get the better of you?”

  “I’ve promised Ember that I wouldn’t say,” Emlyn shrugs, “I’ve told Falnor and Madil too much as it is, but I can tell you that you’re probably right when you say it most likely wasn’t elementals.”

  “That shortens the list a bit,” Saris says, “What’s more powerful than an elemental?”

  “Stop this useless chatter,” Emlyn replies, “and come over here and stand next to me.” Hoping to distract her friends, she starts teaching them her most basic calisthenics.

  After a few movements, Urlin looks over at her, “How often do you do this?”

  “Every morning,” Emlyn replies, “It’s the first thing I do, even before I get dressed.”

  “No wonder you’re getting your movement back so quickly,” Urlin muses, “I thought I was pretty limber until I tried this.”

  “What made you think that?” Falnor puffs, “You’re not any better at this than any of the rest of us.”

  “Let’s just say that my ability to maneuver into unusual positions has been remarked upon more than once,” Urlin growls, “and leave it at that.”

  Balancing on one foot, with her left leg in the air and attempting to touch her nose to her right knee, Emlyn starts to giggle before tilting sideways and losing her balance. As she begins to tilt, she bumps into Saris, who in turn bumps into Benger. Before long, the whole group is lying on the ground laughing.

  Before anyone else can speak, Falnor pokes Urlin, “Who told you that horrible lie?”

  Chuckling, Urlin shrugs, “Most recently, Lexia.”

  “The blond librarian?” Falnor asks, shocked.

  “That very buxom lass,” Urlin replies smugly.

  One of the guards wanders over and finds them sitting in the grass, still laughing. Looking around, he points at Emlyn, “You’re not sparring, are you? I was given orders to keep an eye on you lot.”

  “No,” Emlyn replies honestly, “I was showing them my morning routine before we all started laughing, lost our balance, and fell over.”

  “Off with you then,” the guard says with a frown, “and put those practice swords back where they belong.”

  “As you wish,” Emlyn replies agreeably and goes to pick up the weapons. On her way back, past the still suspicious guard, she grins at him suddenly. “You can tell Ember that I said ‘Yes, Dad.’ when you make your report.” She sashays past the guard and hands a wooden sword to Urlin and the other to Benger.

  “I believe that these belong to you two,” she says with a grin and wink where the guard can’t see, at Benger, who chuckles at her antics.

  “Thanks for grabbing it,” Benger replies, “I’d forgotten where I put it down once Urlin and I were done with the bout.”

  “Come on,” Emlyn tugs at Benger’s arm, “I’m hungry. I hope that they have lunch out.”

  The rest of the day passes with Emlyn reading until dinner, when she reunites with her new friends.

  Which of Emlyn's cohort would you want spar with? Let me know in the comments.

  


  


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