Songbird

Chapter Three - Wren

The dream was the same as ever. The girl's mouth moved as if she was speaking, but he heard only her familiar song as she stretched out her hands, reaching toward him. But she stared through him as if he wasn't there at all, and he could get no closer to her. Then wakefulness crashed over him, and he soon forgot the dream as he got ready for the day.

That evening, after dinner, Kal's father went into the sitting room and took down the sabre that hung on the mantle. From his favorite chair, he unsheathed the weapon and took a polishing cloth to it as the boys gathered around him, admiring the smooth mirror sheen of the steel.

"What was it like, Da?" Hal asked. "Being a soldier."

"Oh, it was quite boring," their father said. "All drills and patrols."

"Not that," Jax said. "Tell us about the battles!"

His father tousled his hair. "When you're older, maybe," he said. "It's not like the stories you read. And there weren't so many battles, anyway."

"And thank goodness for that," their mother said from the kitchen. "I was worried half to death every time he went away."

He smiled at her over his shoulder. "I was proud to serve," he said. "But I hated to leave you."

Jax's eyes were still fixed on the sword. "You'll teach me one day, right, Da? It's not fair that only Kal and Tod get to learn."

Hal nodded in agreement. "I want to learn, too!"

Their father nodded. "One day," he said. "And speaking of, we've been neglecting our studies, Kal—help your mother clean the kitchen, then join me in the yard. You too, Tod."

They both grinned. "Yes, Da!"

"Show me your engaging guard," Kal's father said later. The three of them were in the yard behind the house, holding wooden practice swords.

"Good. Now, twenty cuts to each opening—begin."

Their weapons swished through the air as they practiced, and their father paced back and forth as he observed.

"Kal, be sure that you aren't lowering your guard between cuts."

"Yes, Da."

"And Tod, focus on transitioning smoothly from one cut to the next."

"Got it."

They performed several more exercises afterward, from more cutting drills to footwork to practicing specific techniques, and finally, sparring. The boys weren't allowed to spar with each other yet, so they took turns dueling with their father, feet shuffling across the grass and swords clacking together, along with the occasional grunt of pain or exertion. At last, when the flickering light of the lantern hanging nearby could no longer overcome the growing darkness, they adjourned their practice, and the boys' father clapped them both on the shoulder as they replaced the practice swords in their chest.

"Nicely done, lads," he said. "You learn well. Soon enough, you'll be better than me!"

Their mother exited the girls' room, a finger to her lips. "No injuries?"

"None, darling." Their father elbowed Kal in jest. "Only wounded pride."

He grinned. "Next time, Da, you'll get yours."

His father chuckled. "We'll see about that."

The girl in his dream always looked so sad, he thought. Her dark eyes sparkled like starlight with shimmering tears as her delicate hands reached with such longing into the darkness. Was she lonely? He extended his own hand toward her, but she was still far from him. It seemed that he was invisible to her, as well—she turned this way and that as if searching for a familiar face in a great crowd, not reacting as her gaze passed over him. As the dream ended, she faded into the dark, but left that same haunting melody ringing in his mind even as he woke.