SPIRIT WALKER

Chapter 12: Terror is for Children (part 2 of 2)

Ayuvah took a long spear and danced about Phylomon keeping from his reach, trying to strike at any target. Phylomon used a long sword that let him parry the blows, and Ayuvah could not get past his guard. Phylomon laughed. "You're fast and clever, but you've never been trained by a master of the spear."

"I've seen him kill a tyrannosaur with a spear," Tull put in.

Phylomon stood back for a moment. "Is that true?" he asked.

Ayuvah nodded. "I use the mammoth stroke, like my father showed me."

"That explains it," Phylomon said. "You are too used to fighting big animals. You try too hard to put power behind your blows, and it slows you. You don't need that stroke to kill a human—just concentrate on putting a hole in me. You must be quick and slippery. You need to extend your lunges, try misdirection. When you plan to go for my head, lunge low as if you are aiming at my leg, then pull the spear up quick toward my face. With your style, you will need to commit yourself to an attack, and that is dangerous. When you commit yourself, you need to make sure that no matter how your opponent counters, you can still get your blow. In a few weeks, I can turn you into a dangerous man."

Tull tried him next, and took a long-handled kutow for a weapon. Tull liked the weight the double ax heads gave him when attacking, and the long handle let him strike deep. In all of Smilodon Bay, no one had ever been able to beat him when he practiced with the kutow. But Tull found that watching Little Chaa and Ayuvah fight the blue man had been no help.

Phylomon took a wooden shield and a broad-sword—the classic weapons issued for Craal warriors.

Tull rushed in and swung, and Phylomon put the shield overhead and parried. Tull slammed for the right side, testing the blue man's sword arm, and Phylomon turned the blow with his sword. So Tull rained blows down from all sides and all angles, looking for a weakness, but he could not swing a blow that Phylomon couldn't parry.

Phylomon moved in and out, dodging and turning the blows, never taking the counterstrike. Tull kept waiting for Phylomon to take the offensive, but he never did. Yet Tull found that he was afraid of that counterstrike and, therefore, tried to maintain his distance. He wanted to be quick and slippery, like Ayuvah, but it did not let him put his strength behind the blow. After three full minutes of embarrassment, Tull got mad and swung with his might.

Phylomon tried to turn the blow on his shield. The shield splintered in half, and the kutow slammed into the blue man's arm, knocking him to the ground.

"Oh, God, are you all right!" Scandal shouted. Phylomon sat there, a bit stunned. He looked up at Tull.

"You should always swing with your might. It's devastating. I think we've found your style." He looked at the men. "From now on, we practice twice a day—every day. We've got twelve weeks until we reach Craal. You'll want all the practice you can get before then."

He glared at Scandal—"Even you!"

With that, he gave Scandal a cleaver and a pan. The old innkeeper was used to hard work, but Phylomon put him through his paces, forcing him to fight a comic battle that left Scandal dazed and sweating.

That evening, as Tull helped set a fire, he thought about Wisteria, about the clean feel of her skin as he'd caressed her that morning, the taste of her lips, when suddenly from the brush just a hundred yards away, a great horned dragon leapt into the air with a roar.

Tull looked up, saw the forty-foot wingspan of the beast as the blue wings flashed above the treetops, and he fell backward on his butt and shouted.

The dragon's leather wings flapped with a loud whoosh, whoosh. Its long ostrich like legs stretched out behind its short tail. Its thin forearms raked the air, claws exposed. Even though it flew a hundred feet above the men, the wind of its passage beat down on them like blows. The dragon kept climbing, and while Tull tried to decide whether or not to be relieved, he watched the dragon's flight path. The dragon headed for a copper-colored pterodactyl that soared high above them, letting thermal up-drafts carry it over the mountains.