A Soldier's Life

Chapter 216: William Tell

Castian, the haughty blond noble, nearly jumped to his feet. “I will cross blades with you, Hound,” he declared. His smug smile suggested he thought himself Konstantin’s superior. We had spent the last week drilling and not fighting. Most of us were eager to test our mettle against the Hound trainers, especially Konstantin, who was at the center of our torment. Konstantin just smirked as he nodded, accepting his challenger.

We all circled around a makeshift fighting circle. Castian had good balance and footwork as the pair circled, showing years of experience. What he didn’t realize was that Konstantin had been studying him the last week, picking out his tendencies and weaknesses. Both men had a sword and a Hound buckler. Two exchanges later, Konstantin trapped Castian’s blade, elbowed him in the face, swept his leg, and stomped on his hand, breaking fingers. Castian’s nose was flowing with blood, and he groaned in disorientation, his sword hand disfigured.

“We don’t train you to attack unless you know you have the advantage.” Konstantin barked, then turned toward the castle and called for the healer. A tired healer came out a moment later, quickly assessing the situation and moving to Castian. Konstantin looked at the seventeen of us, “Now, are any of you prepared to challenge me?”

I slowly drew my blade. I would have preferred the black blade, but this short sword was close in weight and length to the magebane. Konstantin looked amused. “No spell forms,” he muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. Was that because he didn’t want the others to see mine or just to give himself a chance? I restrained from taunting him even though my confidence was high.

I faced off against my mentor, and we tapped swords to our shields. Konstantin came at me in an attack sequence I had never seen from him before. It was similar to one of the legionnaires from the Imperial Legion Hall. I retreated and parried the rapid sequence. Konstantin paused and narrowed his eyes, “You have gotten faster.”

I couldn’t resist. “More likely, you have just gotten slower,” I quipped, earning chuckles from the other Hounds and a few brave pups. Konstantin considered his options, dropped his buckler to the earth, and drew a long dagger from his belt. The killer instinct in his eyes told me he was going all out.

I felt prepared but did not drop my buckler. I rarely trained dual-wielding in my dreamscape. There were three quick exchanges, and I remained on the defensive, expecting some trick. I managed to score one cut on Konstantin’s hand when I overpowered his parry with my superior strength and leverage. A slow stream of blood flowed down his blade and dripped onto the ground. He had to keep that angle to avoid the blood pooling on his grip.

The spectators were quiet at the display. I don’t think any of them would believe me if I told them a year ago, I had never held a blade before. Konstantin had an unreadable expression, “Are you going to defend all day? Or will you attack at some point?”

“Don’t say something stupid,” I told myself. “I didn’t want to embarrass you,” I stated with a smirk. Damn it, I couldn’t resist.

“Or maybe you think you can’t win?” Konstantin said as he stepped into another exchange. This time, I got the better of him by getting my shield inside his dagger arm and kicking his shin hard before dancing back. I didn’t break the bone, but I definitively contused the muscles, evidenced by his limp—unless he was faking. I circled, testing his movement, and he turned with me.

I smiled and went on the offensive for the first time. I had given Konstantin enough face by letting the match go for almost ten minutes. I moved in and pushed him back. He stepped in and threw his dagger at my face. I could have made it vanish into my space, but I just ducked the flying blade. Before he could draw a replacement, I used my shield to block his blade and swung at his exposed ribs. He had no chance to evade.

The tip of my sword was yanked down, and Konstantin worked a dagger out of his sleeve in one quick motion, catching it in his hand. He stabbed me in the navel and danced away smiling. “Fuck! You said no spell forms,” I grunted. I looked down incredulously at the dagger impaled in my gut, shock not giving way to pain just yet. He had used his weak telekinesis spell form to yank my sword. I could tell he expended all his aether in the attempt by his heavy eyes.

Without remorse, he said, “Do you think your enemy is going to play fair?” I reached for the dagger, planning to pull it out, heal, and continue the fight. Konstantin had other ideas. “Healer Lithe, take care of the pup’s wound. I think that is enough of a demonstration today. Let’s pair off and get some practice in against each other.”

As everyone moved to find a dance partner, Konstantin gave me a slight nod of respect. I had underestimated the man again. He had never shown a concealed forearm dagger before and obviously had a wider array of combat styles to draw on. Next time, I would show him my full progress. I had been holding back my speed and skill as well.

The healer did a terrible job healing me, as he was trying to conserve aether for the injuries to come. I corrected his poor work before partnering with a tall, skinny pup with acne. He lacked speed, strength, and experience, so I did my best to point out his mistakes but found I lacked the patience to teach him. This was odd because when I taught Livia, Flora, and Renna, I remembered being eager to teach and remaining patient when they made mistakes.

A few of the pups tried to talk to me, but I was still holding on to my loner card. Now that I had proven to be the best fighter among the pups, I was someone worth getting on the good side of. If you were matched against me in martial combat practice, I could make your life miserable.

Lunch was just ration bars. I pretended to consume mine but didn’t feel any hunger. After a modest rest, we were instructed to bring our bows and arrows outside. We traveled down the hill and into the familiar woods. In a large clearing dummies had been set up at two distances. I estimated them at twenty-five and fifty paces.

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Konstantin stood in front of us, smiling. “All Hounds are excellent marksmen. If you cannot hit the furthest target 13 out of 13 times, I will make sure you end up running messages from city to city and never be named a true Hound.” Konstantin stood sideways to the targets and proceeded to fire thirteen arrows at the distant target in a quick tempo. All thirteen arrows hit the torso.

“Now, before you fire a single arrow, you need to inspect each of your arrows for splits, loose fletching, and arrowhead sharpness. The last thing you want is to face down an ogre, aim for his eye, and have your arrow shatter on your release.”

The Hounds walked among us and every quiver had two bad arrows in them. Mine had a loose fletching, and though difficult to find, one was cracked. The instructors supervised spot repairs for the two broken arrows. We had a small vial of alchemist glue in our packs that reminded me of superglue when I got it on my hand.

As we worked, Konstantin supervised and explained, “Those of you who have not shot a bow before, we will teach you. Building calluses on your fingers and getting used to wearing an archer’s vambrace will take time.”

One of the older pups asked, “Why do we only get thirteen arrows?”

David, who was closest to him, answered, “Normal army quivers hold 17 or 34 arrows. We have found thirteen is the best number for the smallest quiver. A Hound rarely misses his target and can easily retrieve his arrows after a successful fight, so thirteen is deemed enough.”

Konstantin laughed at the explanation, “The truth is the Emperor was trying to save on the cost of the silvered arrowheads. Most Hounds will exchange the light quiver for the larger 17 the first chance they get. I suggest you do the same. You will not be charged to replenish your silvered arrows, but there are only three cities in the Empire where you can. If you are found to be selling the silver arrowheads, you will be hung.” He finished with a deadpan delivered warning.

After the arrow tutorial, we went through caring for the bow and arrows. There was an oiled wrap for the bow in our pack and a sock for the quiver to keep the arrows dry and from rattling while we moved. We were all given two rounds at the closer target while the Hounds helped us adjust technique. This was not my first time using a bow, and after three arrows, I had a good feel for this bow.

Jansen took particular interest in me and helped me refine my aim and smooth my release. I didn’t miss the closest target once, and my grouping got tighter and tighter. I was certain my higher dexterity was playing a significant role. I had much better control over fine adjustments, and my hands were much steadier than when I learned to shoot on the wall in Macha.

Konstantin kept eyeing me as I released shot after shot. “For your third round, switch to the furthest target!” He bellowed as a number of men were rubbing their fingertips. I had my black spider silk gloves, and they appeared to be holding up well. When we switched to the further target, I was low with my first shot, hitting the bottom of the dummy. The remaining twelve shots were all tightly grouped on the chest, within twelve inches of each other.

“Think we have a master marksman here,” Jansen touted my skill. There were others in our group who all hit the furthest target with each arrow, just not with the same grouping as me.

“Means nothing if he can’t hit a moving target during a fight,” Konstantin said; somehow, he seemed irritated at my display. “Move a target to seventy paces. If your master marksman can hit with all thirteen arrows, the pups can have the rest of the morning off to lick their wounds.”

Everyone stopped as I retrieved and inspected my arrows. The other pups offered to exchange arrows if one of mine was damaged or I didn’t like the feel of it. I didn’t take them up on their offer. Konstantin took the first shot at the distant target and scored a hit on the centerline.

I inhaled as I was guessing how high over the target I would need to aim. Jansen helped, “About two body lengths based on your draw weight. There is a light breeze coming from the left, but it’s too light to affect the arrow’s flight with the trees.” I could see the leaves atop the trees waving very slightly. I drew an imaginary line along the horizon and another line vertically. I drew back and raised my bow arm and when I met the horizontal line let the arrow fly. Everyone held their breath as the arrow’s flight took it to the target with a satisfying thud.

Cheers broke out, but Konstantin silenced the men, “He still needs to hit with his next twelve shots.” He looked at me, “You will not have a minute in combat to assess your arrow’s path like that. All your remaining arrows need to be released in less than a minute, or your effort will not count.”

That pronouncement got grumbles from the pups, even the Hound instructors looked a little peeved by the changes to the ad hoc contest. I just shrugged, as I didn’t care if we got the morning off or not. Even though the training was intense, I could heal myself and the fatigue seemed to wash away easier for me with the ring.

I took my position and released the next arrow, and Konstantin started counting loudly with the twang of the bow, “One, two, three, four…” I ignored the intentional distraction. I retrieved an arrow, notched, aimed, and released. One after the other until all twelve arrows were expended. “Fifty-one…” It was as high as Konstantin got before I released the last arrow.

Even though the wind increased slightly during my round, it was not enough to affect the arrow’s flight. Every arrow had impacted the target in a wide grouping. When the last arrow landed in the dense straw of the dummy with a thud, the cheers resounded. I didn’t like the looks that Konstantin was giving me. My littermates mauled me with their hands and praised me like I was a hero. For today, I was such to them.

Konstantin went and retrieved my arrows as our group inspected their arrows and packed up their things. He returned and handed me my arrows. “Talk to me at dinner,” he said seriously before leading us back up the hill to the castle on the bluff. I had counted Konstantin as an ally, so I was confused by his tone and why he appeared so annoyed.

Dinner was grilled fish and venison tonight with a spicy-sweet glaze. The soldier cook was treating us because of all the extra meat the Hounds had been bringing to the table. Even the ale was less watered down than usual. After the course of questions for everyone, I was without a reward once again, as Konstantin’s questions focused on hill giants and wyverns for me. Konstantin sat in a quiet corner, and I joined him. His steely blue eyes seemed to be appraising me before he decided on his question, “What did you take out of the Shimmering Labyrinth?”

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