Fourth Tale

Chapter 1

1

Barristan tended to keep to himself (he'd always had) as he smashed his mace down onto a straw dummy. The wood creaked and groaned but otherwise stood firm beneath his assault. The old Man-at-Arms had spent most of his life in the Hamlet. He'd been born a stone's throw from the Old Road (the familial home had long succumbed to the elements).

He'd watched over the years the destruction of the Hamlet, and the old Mansion. When he'd been young, there had been no pigmen, no cultist, no pelagial horrors. He'd seen the old Earl of Darkest transform from an honest man to whatever he'd been in the end.

A shell of a man. If he could be called that...

The Earl's only living relative (a great granddaughter he believed) had come following the old man's suicide. Barristan had known at once who she'd been. She looked like the old man in an uncanny way (they'd both had that garish red hair that could be spotted a mile away, and those cold eyes...).

Another smash into the dummy had the Man-at-Arms pausing to examine his weapon. The hilt had felt off on that last hit. He frowned and sat down on an anvil close by, placing his shield beside him as he did so. He turned his weapon upside down and peered at it in length when he heard the soft footfalls of another entering the training grounds.

He didn't bother raising his head until a shadow fell over him. He glanced up and his blue eye met pitch black ones. His greying mustache twitched and he raised himself to a straight sitting position.

"Aye, lass?" He arched an eyebrow.

The newcomer was a woman, but unlike other women he'd seen or met in the Hamlet, this one was completely different. Her face was covered, only her eyes gleamed. Her skin was dark, like she'd slowly baked in the sun all her life. Her armour/clothes (he wasn't sure which she was wearing as he was not familiar with either) was definitely different . She held a long spear in her right hand, and a rounded shield in her left. She was very small (The spear almost looked comical beside her).

"You are the trainer?" She rolled her Rs in a way Barristan had never heard before. Her accent was definitely lyrical and not local. She'd come to his hamlet from far, very far.

"Who's askin'?" he barked, irritated that he was interrupted.

"I am Amani," she hit her chest with her spear-fisted hand as a form of introduction.

"I answer to 'Sir'," he didn't bother with her name or his. She was no different from all the rest... they always died, were driven mad, or fled

Except him.

He returned his attention to his mace as she remained standing in front of him. Her black eyes had narrowed as she watched him fiddle with a strip of leather.

"Sir," she hit her shield with her spear and dropped to a battle stance.

Barristan arched both eyebrows as he looked at her. Really looked at her. She wanted to fight? He snorted.

"I'm not about to fight you sight unseen, lass," he grisled.

She didn't respond, instead she made to smash him in the face with her shield. Thankfully he was holding his mace, and he brought it up just as her shield moved. He dodged the hit, and jumped to his feet, his mood more than foul now.

He was quick to grab his own shield and as he hefted it, unleashed a booming warcry that probably deafened her (she was barely a couple of steps away). His mace was old, but the spikes were sturdy and had never let him down. His shield had seen better days, but it too had proved its mettle.

His shield raised automatically as she went to hit him with something (he assumed it was dust or poison, didn't get a good look since he was moving on automatic) and before he realized it, He'd used his shield to smash into her.

She hadn't expected the force in his hit cause she was sent flying backwards, and that was when he noticed that her left hand was not holding her buckler. In fact, she had no left hand to speak of. Her shield was strapped to her forearm with leather strips.

He lowered his shield and dropped his mace beside the anvil he'd just vacated. "And that's why you never fight sight unseen lass," he growled at her, "I could have killed you," he snapped, "get out of here and get your hand looked over at the medical ward."

She jumped to her feet and grabbed her spear that had dropped from her hand. "I am not wounded," she spoke lyrically, getting her weapon and resuming her battle stance. Barristan rolled his eye and returned to his seat on the anvil.

"The bandage is bloodied," he pointed out, returning his attention to his weapon.

"Old blood," she countered, "Now fight me old man."

He chuckled as he tightened the leather around the hilt of his mace. "You best go an introduce yourself to the medical ward," he explained sourly, "before I am forced to do so for you."

He noticed her feet dancing in the soft dirt and knew before she moved that she was going to kick dirt in his face. It was a matter of raising shield, keeping his eye on her fancy footwork and avoiding a well placed stab. He growled and reached for her leg with his free hand. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her onto her back before she made another pass at him.

He'd had enough.

He heard the air get knocked out of her as she landed squarely on her back. He was quick to put a booted foot on her chest to hold her down.

"Listen, child ," he deliberately stressed the word, "I will tell you when you're ready to play with the adults . But," he applied more weight to her chest, "until then, you have to be ready to listen and do as you are told . Come back when you are," he barked, stepping off her finally, "Your wasting my time otherwise."

He turned his back to her as he reached down for his mace. He didn't even bother with her as he hefted his weapon and left the training area for the barracks.