The Pawn

Dance Practice

I was given special silky dancing shoes. My feet were prepped, with special creams and I wore protective inner shoes to keep my toes safe. Angel muttered about foolish dancers that didn't protect their feet, leaving them to bleed and crack. I hold back a shiver, lucky that I have such protections. We stretched first, with Helen telling me what to do. My feet felt so flexible, I just loved the softness of the silk.

My stretching was reminiscent of Father's exercises that he gave me when I was in my room. I remember my fingertips touching my toes, balancing on one leg while holding the other behind me, and then taking long strides across the room while bending my knees. It's the same here, just a lot brighter underneath my glasses. Helen always tells me to stop whenever I'm about to bump into something.

As I stretch my arms, I learn that there are three stages to every dance. For this particular dance of wrath, it's like a dance of war. Streamers act as swords, in this case, so Helen gave me some streamer bracelets. They're on my wrists.

"First, there is a stage where you are preparing for war. Second, the fight. Third, the mourning period."

Lily interjects. "Of course, the mourning period. Was this sung during the war? You know what, I don't wanna know."

"Human, be quiet!" Angel hisses. "He is learning."

Helen gets behind me and takes my shoulders in her soft hands, the cinnamon wafting gently to my nose. I feel a sudden urge to just melt there, comforted by her presence. There's a smile in her voice, and she must have noticed me easing up.

"Now, straighten your back."

I do.

"Now leave your arms at your sides. This will be the beginning of the war cry, the call to the God of Patience. For warmongering people filled with wrath, they call upon him to steady their sword and not let it run amok with wrath in the battlefield. For a soldier of Ira, Patience and discipline in war are the most important assets, other than their weapons and their honor. No matter how challenging it is, a soldier of Ira cannot simply unleash their fury right away."

"That part is true," Lily adds.

Helen continues, "To start the war cry, you must put your foot forward, lower your body, and take a long stride forward while bending your knee. Then you raise your arms up and cup your mouth to send the war cry."

I begin to sweat. "Wait, what's the war cry?"

"Well, I will sing it for you. Later on, we will practice singing together. We simply take it as we go, Aster. And as for your arms, they must raise slowly, in a downward arc before standing up and delivering the cry."

"Okay..." My heart pounds, but I swallow my hesitation.

Breathing in the aged and stale air of the dance studio, I straighten up more. Then I take a step with my left foot, lower my body down when I finish the step, and slowly swing my arms in a downward arc. Making sure my knee is pointing at an angle, I raise myself up slowly along with my arms, my leg muscles burning. My hands cup my mouth.

Then Helen starts to sing with an odd tone, it's nothing like I've ever heard before. Not melodic, but... it's divine and the notes are not typical of any song I've heard of. Discordant and strange at first, not even resembling a song, but eventually turns out melodic and songlike in the end.

"Oh, my lord. Oh, my warlord.

Forgive me, love, for I call this war cry.

Oh, laaaaaaaa."

The quiet "La" turning into something gradually turning loud sends a shiver down my spine. It intimidates me from the force of her singing. It feels like something bad is going to happen. Oh, of course it is! It's a war cry.