Amáne of Teravinea - The Chosen One (The Teravinea Series Book 1) (13 page)

With my assistance, the Healer donned her armor, and then, without warning, she picked up one of the training swords, tossed it at me and said, “Let’s see what you can do with this.”

Instinctively, I reached out and caught it by its hilt. I was pleased the extra weight of the armor only hampered my reactions slightly.

“But, Healer,” I protested, “I’ve never used a metal sword. We only worked with wooden wasters.”

She answered my complaint with a lunge, which I managed to parry. Without another word, my training began in earnest. After a series of lunges, which I parried weakly, she swung her sword overhead and threw a wrap shot bringing it around behind me. I read her intention — to work around my back since I had a shield to protect my front. She threw shots to get me to move my shield to defend, which made me work harder than her, conserving her energy and wearing me out. This worked quite nicely — for her.

The noise of our weapons, shields and armor clashing created a din in the series of short bouts in which we engaged — each one lasting no more than a minute. I was no match for the Healer. As
she continued her attacks, she shouted at me, “Correct your stance, Amáne! Bend your knees! I thought you used to practice with the grinder’s youngest boy. Have you learned nothing?”

I understood she was testing me — pushing me to my limit, which to my shame, was very low.

She feinted an attack to mislead me, and I fell for it. I paid for that mistake with a hit from the flat of her sword. The dust choked me, my legs burned, my arms began to get heavy and didn’t respond to what I asked of them. Still she continued. Her age deceived, because she was a formidable sword fighter — she showed no fatigue.

Her lesson increased in intensity. I wasn’t prepared for this serious of instruction on my first day. I almost didn’t recognize her from the Healer who was my mother’s friend. I began to understand her warning, but I was still confused by her severity.
Did I offend her and not realize it?

“Stop telling me your next move, Amáne.”

“I’m not!” I shouted back, my anger starting to build.

“You are. I can tell when you drop that shoulder,” she whacked my left shoulder with the flat of her blade, “that you will be moving in this direction. You might as well shout it.”

She baited me, throwing the same shot to the same place two or three times and then hit me from another direction as I automatically defended the area she previously tried to hit.

“Your anger is weakening you, Amáne. When you’re angry you cannot fight rationally. Control it, or you could make a deadly mistake.”

“Eshshah, I need your help,” I said out loud.

“No, Eshshah cannot assist you. This needs to be just you. We’ll work with her included later, but not now.”

“This isn’t fair.” I complained. “You know I don’t have your skills and yet you’re not holding back.”

“Fighting isn’t fair. And I am holding back. Keep your focus.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t control my anger — I’d held it for as long as I could. Not allowing Eshshah to help made me snap. I lunged in at her, swinging wildly with a high shot to her head. I inadvertently lowered my shield, leaving my torso open. She ducked my swing and went for my undefended side catching me square in the ribs in the one spot where my armor was weak. I crumbled to the dirt clutching my side trying to fill my emptied lungs. When I finally caught my breath, the pain was worse — it felt like she had run me through. I looked at my hand but there was no blood.

“I think you broke my rib,” I said between raspy breaths.

“Now Eshshah can aid you. We don’t want any broken bones.” She didn’t even sound sorry.
What did I do wrong since yesterday that she seemed so angry with me?

Eshshah hurried to my side and put her nose on my ribs. She breathed her warm healing power and relief washed over me. My breath came in more evenly.

“Get up, Amáne. One more bout and then you can go to the kitchen and have your meal. I need to leave on business. Gallen will work with you the second part of the day.”

She didn’t ease up for the last bout.

When I removed my armor and the quilted jacket, my clothes underneath were dripping with sweat. There was not one dry spot, but I didn’t care. I stumbled to the laver outside the kitchen, washed my face and my arms and dunked my head under the cooling water.

Exhausted, I dragged myself to the kitchen. Gallen sat at the table eating quietly. He mumbled an acknowledgement of my
presence. I cut a piece of salt pork and some cheese from the wheel, tore off some bread, then took my place across from him. I started eating just as silently. Finally, cooling off both physically and emotionally, I cleared my head enough to review my errors and the new skills I learned that morning. I also tried to determine if there was something I said or did to make the Healer unhappy with me.

The Healer came in before leaving for her obligations and said, “It will be late when I return tonight, but before I leave, Amáne, it’s time you knew this truth, since you will be learning dragon skills from him. You have a formidable teacher in Gallen as his true identity is Kaelem, rider of the late Gyan.” Then she left the room.

My knife clattered to the floor. I choked on the bite I had just taken as I leapt to my feet. My eyes couldn’t get any wider. Coughing and sputtering, I saluted him. He nodded and saluted back, then turned his attention again to his meal. I remained riveted as I tried to catch my breath. I had known Gallen as far back as I could remember. In my childish fantasies I disclosed to my mother I was going to marry him. Then as I grew older, he became my father figure — my substitute for the father I never knew. His kindness meant so much to me. This revelation staggered me.

“I’m the same person you’ve known all your life.” He sounded amused. “Sit down, Amáne. Finish your meal and stop staring at me.”

“Oh, sorry, Gallen ... I mean Kaelem.”

“Call me Gallen. I’m no longer Kaelem.” A dark shadow dulled his blue eyes for a brief moment.

I couldn’t respond — my mind reeled. A dragon rider in Dorsal. Right under my nose, and I never suspected, even though
he was a personal friend of my mother and myself.
Who would have known?
I called to mind the ballads I had learned but couldn’t recall ever learning his story, or how his dragon had passed on. I told myself I would have to do some research. It must have been an unbearable nightmare. One that I never wanted to face. A great sadness began to overwhelm me as I put myself in his place and the thought of ever losing Eshshah.

“Eshshah.” I said out loud, just needing to hear her ‘voice’ inside my head.

Gallen said nothing and politely ignored that I spoke to my dragon out loud.

“I’m here, Amáne. Try to control your emotions. It would not do well to break down here and now in front of Gallen.” She hummed her calming sound.

“Thank you, Eshshah.” I voiced.

Gallen interrupted, “You’ll need to break that habit. It’s not wise to always speak to your dragon out loud. When you’re alone with her or you need to convey a message from someone to her, then it is acceptable, but at no other time is it necessary. It could result in unpleasant or even dangerous situations for you.”

“I’ll work on it, Gallen.”

We finished eating. He directed me to the courtyard and asked me to have Eshshah meet us there. He was going to work with us as a pair. Still in shock over Gallen being a dragon rider — the first one I had ever met — my eyes were fixed on him as we headed outside.

“Stop staring at me, Amáne.”

“Sorry.”

In the courtyard, Gallen brought out three different types of saddles on saddle stands. He proceeded to explain the differences.

“This first saddle, the smallest of the three, is made to be used in battle. The seat is compact and lightweight. The restraining straps are at the boot pegs. The strap goes over and behind your boot. This gives you full movement during battle. You can stand up completely and twist but still be secure, even in quick maneuvers. The second saddle has a bit larger seat and the restraining straps are at the calf level. It’s mostly used for tournament flying and at Faires where you want to execute showy maneuvers — more secure than the fighting saddle, yet it will still allow you to stand up. Lastly, we have this larger saddle.”

It was similar to the one we used to fly back from the Dorsal outpost.

Gallen continued, “It’s a basic everyday saddle as well as for long distance use. Larger seat and high back for more comfort, thigh belt for maximum security on longer flights. No fear of losing your seat if you doze off in flight.” I wondered how
anyone could doze off in flight, but I kept my thoughts to myself ... and Eshshah.

He taught me the proper way to secure each of the three saddles on Eshshah. Then he had me run through drills. I started at one end of the courtyard, grabbed a saddle, ran it to the other end where Eshshah waited, threw it on her and fastened it as fast as I could. The larger one was no problem. We were familiar with that one already, but I had a lot of trouble with the battle one. Its leather ties and straps were thinner and I kept getting tangled in them. He explained that when this one was used, I would need to place Eshshah’s chest armor on first and then the fighting saddle. He didn’t want to spend much time on this one as he didn’t anticipate any battles in the near future.

After the saddle drills, he had me leave the larger one on. We moved next to instruction on different mounting techniques.

“First, show me how you usually mount up.”

We showed him how Eshshah bends her foreleg for me to climb up. I jumped my left leg to the foot peg, and threw my right leg over the back of the saddle as I pulled myself up. The distance I had to jump seemed to change often as her size increased daily — although it seemed to be slowing down a bit. Gallen nodded, satisfied with our technique. He went on to explain it was necessary to know many different mounts from different directions. I might find myself in a situation where I was being chased and Eshshah would need to be prepared to spring the second I hit the saddle. It would not be practical for her to have to help me up with her foreleg.

“Let’s start with the tail mount. May I?”

“Of course.” I granted him permission to speak directly to Eshshah.

“Thank you. Now, Eshshah, please face the barn and take the preflight position like you’re ready to spring, but extend your tail straight back. Amáne, you need to run up her tail, continue on her back and jump into the saddle prepared to take off. Unfortunately, we can’t do the full training now in daylight. You can’t be spotted flying. But if she were to take off, it would be the second you hit the saddle. You buckle yourself in as she takes her first downstroke. Now, let’s try it.”

“Wait. You want me to run up her tail? She has ridges all the way up to her back.” Her ridges started small above the barb at the end of her tail, increased in size as they reached her haunches, and then decreased to just before her shoulders. At that point her ridges became smooth bumps until higher on her neck, where they grew larger again, then decreased as they reached the top of her head.

“Your feet are small, it should be no problem for you. Step close to the ridges. Plant your feet on either side. You’ll be running fast, so you’ll probably only take three or four strides before you’re on her back.”

“You’ve done this yourself ?” I was sorry I was so insensitive to have asked that question, as I saw a shadow of sorrow briefly cross his face.

“Yes, it is a standard mount. Now, go. Imagine you are being chased by a pack of wild dogs, or whatever works for you. Use a mental picture to plan your steps.”

I took a deep breath and allowed my natural determination to take over. I wanted to show Gallen I could do this — for him to see I was an able dragon rider. My confidence was up. I was a good runner and had excellent balance. Retreating to the opposite end of the courtyard, I turned and began my run. As I mentally projected
my foot placement for my first step, I leapt onto Eshshah’s tail. I landed at a good distance and planted my right foot to the right of her ridges. Perfect execution. Spotting my second step, I planted my left foot at what should have been just left of her ridges. But I misjudged. My placement was too much to the left where her tail was more rounded. My foot slipped and I lost my balance. I tried to correct my error and establish traction with my right foot — to push off, jump left and clear her tail. I drove my foot downward, but instead of gaining a foothold, it slipped to the right. I slammed straight down, straddling her tail in a crotch-drop. My breath burst from my lungs. Fortunately, I didn’t land directly on one of her ridges, but between two of them. Groaning, I slid off to my left, and landed on my back. I grabbed myself on the way down. My modesty forgotten at that moment.

Eshshah turned her head to where I lay writhing in pain. She mentally cringed and said, “Let me help you, Amáne.”

“No... No... I’m good. Thanks.” That would have been a little too awkward for me in front of Gallen.

Tears of pain streamed from my eyes. I rolled on my side and tried to even out my breathing. Eshshah was concerned but refrained from helping. Gallen winced and turned away, feigning to find something interesting in his palm. He let me have a couple private minutes to recover, after which he offered me his hand.