Auris tightens her grip on the hilt of the wooden sword, watching her opponents warily. Mora stands to her side and just a step behind. She's a quiet one, Mora, and shows promise of being a patient hunter, one who might stalk her prey, awaiting the perfect moment, and pounce without warning. Her hair is just long enough to braid, and the thick plaits fall across her face, hiding her eyes in shadow.
Across from them, the other three have taken similar stances. Today they play the part of the orcs—Auris always claims the goliaths, something even the wild Brighteyes can't wrest from her. Brighteyes' brother, Nils, on the other hand, is wily, with a penchant for pranks, and the one beside them, Lys, is a soft-spoken boy who would often rather watch than participate but whose passion is fervent when at last awakened.
"I am Auris Stormchild Oretharos," calls Auris, raising her sword to point at them, "daughter of the chieftain of that tribe. You of the Orzec and Ka'lesh have invaded our lands for the last time! I call on Tembor, Thought of War, for victory! I call on Dreyani, Thought of Life, for protection! I call on Miris, Thought of Honor, for glory!" With this last, she charges forward, swinging with all her might.
Brighteyes echoes the cry, her own a wordless roar as she meets Auris in the middle. Strike, strike, whirl! The heavy beats of wood on wood fill the air; block Brighteyes' side-sweep, backhand toward Nils, Mora's engaged Lys, don't let her from your sight, keep close to your allies...an opening! Auris kicks out her foot, catching Nils' ankle, sending him crashing to the ground, and while he's recovering, Auris uses the momentum to step, whirl, shove her shoulder into Brighteyes, who stumbles backwards—follow up, follow up! Auris advances, raining blow after blow upon Brighteyes' defenses until at last the girl trips on a stone, falling back, and Auris brings swordpoint to throat. "Surrender."
Brighteyes is silent for a beat, meeting Auris' gaze with a glare, then the flicker of a smirk warns Auris just before Nils barrels into her, throwing her off balance, sword skidding away. Auris roars, getting one foot behind her just enough to push off, twist so that she lands on top—in the background, that flash, Lys has bested Mora, she's the only one left, she cannot lose now! And Brighteyes is getting up again... Auris kicks off the ground, rolling herself and Nils into Brighteyes—"Stay down!"—a sword! She reaches for it, Nils catches at her arm and she pushes him back, Brighteyes is going for the same one... Auris snatches it, leaps to her feet, holds it back toward Brighteyes' throat. She throws up her other hand toward Lys. "Victory is mine—surrender!"
Brighteyes clenches her jaw and Nils glances toward her, half ready to spring up again—then Brighteyes relaxes, her gaze flicking away. "I surrender."
Auris puts up the sword. Then she grins, reaching toward Brighteyes and Nils to give them each a hand up. Brighteyes takes it begrudgingly, but Nils gladly accepts the help. "Come on," says Auris, "they'll be waiting for us!"
It isn't until years later that she recognizes the weight of Mora's loss, in true battle. For now, she leads her friends in a charge toward the cooks, snatching up the bits and pieces the adults are too slow to defend before running off again amidst good-natured admonishments with their spoils, arriving just as the hunting party they'll accompany today is preparing to depart.
YOU ARE READING
Auris of the Thousand Names: A Weaver's Chronicle
Fantasy[Updates Thursdays] They wouldn't let her save the world. Unable to keep patience with the figureheads and red tape of the city-state governments, Auris turned her attention smaller, to a new settlement, and to a bare handful of its inhabitants cau...
