Healers' Call

A Memory of the Past

"No. No. No. You have to hold the blades up higher than that," Carrick shouted at Mauve.

Valda laid sprawled on the grass a few feet away, drenched in sweat. It was fair to say that their first sword practicing lesson was not going to plan. No one had been injured yet, but Valda didn't like the look of pure loathing on Mauve's face as she glared at her brother.

Carrick had pushed them hard as soon as they'd made camp that night. Tevin, having been excluded from the lesson, was instead preparing dinner, which was now roasting nicely over the fire. It was some bird the likes of which Valda had never seen, but the smell was mouthwatering.

"Should we stop for dinner?" Valda called out, still panting from her practice with Carrick. Thankfully, she had done some fencing in school so the sword didn't feel so alien in her hand.

But Mauve was a different story.

The sickle blades slipped out of her hands every time she moved to intercept Carrick. She would curse, pick them back up and start again. Each time her frustration increased along with the volume of Carrick's voice. His attempts to encourage her had begun to sound more like criticism.

"Not until she can block at least one of my strikes," Carrick shouted back before Mauve could admit defeat. Her murderous expression didn't fill Valda with much confidence.

Once again, Mauve took her position, raised her blades and stepped.

"Damn. Blast these silly things." Mauve stared down at the one blade that had slipped through her fingers and now rested amongst the grass stalks.

Carrick's expression was one part disbelieving and one part exasperated. If Valda didn't know better, she would have said Mauve was doing it on purpose.

"Mauve, don't-"

"Don't say another word, Car." Mauve cut him off with a deadly look.

Wisely, Carrick kept his mouth shut as Mauve picked up the offending blade and settled back into her position. She breathed a few times to calm herself, before feeling ready to try again.

"Would you mind if I try?" Tevin moved swiftly, not waiting for Carrick's inevitable rejection.

He came to stand behind Mauve and wrapped his hands around hers where she was clutching the blades.

"What do you think you're doing? Back away from my sister!"

"Knock it off, Car. Let's just see what he has to say." Desperation was making Mauve more trusting, though Tevin's closeness made her feel weird. She pushed the uncomfortable emotion away and focused on what he had to say.

When Tevin could see that nobody was going to attack him, he began moving Mauve's arms in fluid motions.

"Sickle blades are different to swords. They have to work together without getting in each other's way. Think of the blades as an extension of your arm. They can reach places that you can't." He pushed and pulled Mauve's hands through a few more moves before instructing her to move her feet.

They slashed forward and blocked as they stepped back. Performing wide arcs and movements that Valda would have found impossible with her sword. It was almost like watching two people dancing, only much more deadly.

"Very good. Now, Prince Carrick, step forward and try to strike."

It was easy to see Carrick was not happy with being given instructions, but after a small internal battle with himself, he raised the sword and took a few steps forward, swinging it in slow motion.

CLANG.

Valda jumped at the sound of metal on metal. Mauve's blades had come together and Carrick's sword was caught in the curve.