Teleporter (a Hyllis family story #2) (9 page)

Daum turned to her and snorted, “An unpleasant, though important topic I’m sure. Normally, I’d be irritated about having to spend time on it, but right now I’d rather do anything other than figure out how we’re going to get all our stuff into this tiny space.” He stood and stretched his back, “What’s our role?”

She smiled at him, “That depends on your skills. My understanding is that your wife and daughter have no training at all in fighting but are pretty good healers?”

Daum nodded.

“Then we would expect to keep them in reserve to treat any of our injured. Nonetheless, I would like to spend a little time teaching them a few basics about fighting in case raiders break through.” Her eyes went to Tarc, “Tarc here, needs some training with the sword, and he’s agreed to let me teach him a few things this afternoon if that’s okay with you?”

Daum gave Tarc an amused eye but only said, “Sure.”

Lizeth said, “And yourself Sir, do you have any particular skills already? Or would you like some training?”

“I’m pretty good with a bow and arrow.” He glanced at Tarc again, “So is Tarc for that matter.”

Lizeth looked at Tarc and raised an eyebrow. She turned back to Daum, “A good archer can be worth a lot in a fight if we have a little distance between ourselves and the enemy. Arco will want to see for himself just how ‘pretty good’ the two of you are. Would you mind shooting a few arrows at a target for us?”

Daum shrugged, “We wouldn’t mind, but we really don’t want to go out in town the way people are acting towards us. The only targets I know of are at the armory.”

Lizeth smiled, “We carry a target with us. It’s hooked onto the side of the guards’ wagon. I’ll hang it up on the back wall of the courtyard here and we’ll check the two of you out if you don’t mind.”

“Can I do it in about an hour? I’ve got a couple of things I really need to take care of.”

“Not a problem. If you don’t mind, I’ll take Tarc to the stable for a lesson with swords?”

Tarc found himself ambivalently following Lizeth across the yard to the stable. He felt excited to spend time with her, yet apprehensive about being humiliated by her superior skill.

However, it was nothing like his earlier experience with her or the terrible experience with Jason. She never once used her surprising quickness to embarrass him. Instead, she showed him move after move, what might happen and how to try to counter it. Tarc had thought that Sergeant Eppley was a good teacher, but only a short way into Lizeth’s first lesson he felt like he had learned much more from her than in his many lessons with Eppley.

Of course, Lizeth was teaching him one-on-one. And, he was paying intense attention, though not always to what she was saying about sword fighting. Although he was tired, he still felt disappointed when she said, “I think our hour is up. We’d better go set up the target and see if your dad is ready to show us some archery.”

Lizeth and Tarc hauled the big target off the side of the guard wagon over to the wall and hung it on one of the hooks there. She returned to the wagon and got several bows and a bundle of practice arrows. When they stepped inside the big room, Daum saw them and nodded. He got his own bow from where he’d leaned it up against the bar and called across the room, “Daussie, keep an eye on the bar. Give me a call if you get swamped.”

Daussie nodded from where she sat at the treatment table wrapping Eva’s ancient glass devices in old clothing and packing them carefully into a box.

Back outside, Lizeth looked at Daum’s bow. Her eyebrows went up and she gave him a respectful look. “If you’re worthy of
that
bow, Arco will be
very
happy to have you in the caravan.” She turned and shouted across the courtyard, “Arco!”

Arco turned, saw them on the steps and trotted their way. His eyes also immediately went to Daum’s bow, “Nice!” He smiled at Daum, “I hope you don’t mind showing us what you can do with that fine bow. It’s terribly important I know what we can expect from the members of the caravan if we do get in a fight.

Daum nodded, “I’m glad you want to know. I just hope I don’t embarrass myself.”

Arco gave a little laugh, “it’s good to know you’re nervous now. You’ll
certainly
be on edge if it comes to a fight. This way we’ll know how you’ll really do. Go ahead and take several shots. That should take the edge off.”

Lizeth held out one of the practice arrows. Daum had already put on his bracer. He strung his bow, took the arrow, nocked it on his string and looked across the yard of the target. Taking a deep breath he brought the bow up, drew and shot in one smooth motion. The arrow had a good line, but struck near the bottom of the target even with his
and
Tarc’s talents lifting it. “Damn,” Daum said, “misjudged the distance.”

Arco said, “That’s okay. Your opponent’s crotch would be hurting pretty bad right now. Shoot a few more.”

Daum plucked another arrow from Lizeth’s fingers, drew and shot again. This one stuck into the yellow bullseye. So did the next one, and the one after that was in the center of the bullseye.

Arco gave a delighted hoot, “Oh, we’ll be
glad
to have you behind us!” His eyes went to Tarc, “How about you, Boy? Can you shoot anything like your father?”

Irritated at being called “boy,” Tarc lifted the bow he’d chosen from the three that Lizeth had brought. He thought it had about the same pull as the one he’d been using at the armory. Lizeth handed him an arrow and he nocked it. He looked one more time at the target, wondering about the distance. At the armory he’d always shot a known distance and knew exactly how much elevation to give. He wished he’d paced the distance off while Lizeth was getting his father.

He lifted drew and shot, aiming higher than he thought he needed to so that he could correct downward with his talent. Pulling an arrow down was considerably easier than trying to lift a low shot. As soon as the arrow left the bow he realized it was
really
high and he desperately pulled the arrow head down with his talent. At the last moment he realized he was overdoing it, but by then it was too late and the arrow shot into the yellow bullseye.

Arco slapped Tarc on the back, “Way to go boy!” Then he turned to Lizeth and Daum, “That arrow must’ve been warped though. Did you see the way it dropped? At first I thought that he’d shot
completely
over the target. Still,” he grinned at Tarc, “luck or not, you hit the bullseye! Take another arrow and let’s see if you can do it again.”

Tarc took another arrow from Lizeth, desperately wanting to show Arco that it
hadn’t
been luck. Daum must’ve seen the look on his face because he frowned at Tarc and gave a minute head shake. Tarc sighed, lifted, drew, and shot. This time his elevation was about right. Tarc used just a touch of his talent to bring it into the red circle outside the bullseye.

Arco laughed, “Don’t be disappointed Boy, that was still a lot better than I expected you to shoot. Try it again.”

Tarc shot another, this time bringing it in near the edge between the red and yellow.

Arco whooped, “Good enough! Good enough. If we get attacked, you two will man the firing platform on top of the guard wagon. We’ll want your wagon right behind the guard wagon so you can get to the platform in a hurry.”

The little gathering broke up. As they went back inside Daum turned to Tarc, “
I
know you can shoot better.
You
know you can shoot better. That needs to be enough. Resist the temptation to be superhuman except in situations where we really need it.”

Tarc said, “Yeah, sorry. That first arrow, I shot it so high I thought I was going to be
really
embarrassed. I was pulling so hard to bring it into the center that it wasn’t until right before it hit that I realized I’d gotten it there.”

“Even the other two shots, Tarc. Those were both better than anyone would expect someone your age to be able to shoot.” He grinned slyly at his son, “You wouldn’t be trying to impress a pretty girl would you?”

Tarc blushed, “No!” he said sullenly.

Daum laughed, “You are too!” He snorted, “Better be careful Tarc. She’s older than you. She’ll break your heart.
And
she’s sure to be one of those guy’s girlfriend or they wouldn’t have a girl in the guards. Whoever it is probably won’t take kindly to you mooning around.”

“Dad! She’s… deadly! She isn’t in the guard just because she’s somebody’s girlfriend,” Tarc said disdainfully. “She’s so fast she beats all those guys in their sword practices.”

Daum grinned at his son, “Oh, you’ve got it
bad
don’t you?” He put his arm around Tarc’s shoulders and gave him a playful squeeze. “I remember what it’s like. She’s gorgeous, and unattainable, and exotic, and wonderful. All those things. But remember, chasing beautiful girls can be dangerous too. There’s always going to be other guys chasing them at the same time.”

Tarc said, “Um, Dad, I’ve been thinking that, if we might be in some real danger out on the road…”

Daum had started looking at something behind the bar, “Hmmm?”

“We should have more than two throwing knives.”

Daum swiveled around and frowned, “You’re not thinking about taking out any rivals for that girl’s affections are you?”

“No!” Tarc grimaced at his own sharp tone, “No, I’ve been thinking about this since Farley’s deputies had you trapped. If I’d thrown my knife at the one who had you pinned, I don’t think I could have hurt him very badly. With his back to me and that leather curiass I couldn’t have hit anything instantly fatal. As soon as I threw at him, I would’ve had to use my second knife to kill his partner and when the first guy turned and came after me, I wouldn’t have had anything except my work knife left.” Tarc paused, but before Daum said anything he continued, “Even fighting Krait’s men, there were several times when I wished I had more knives. I had to throw my work knife once and it’s
hard
to control.”             

Daum turned and studied his son for a moment. “I see you’ve given this some serious thought. It’s hard for me to imagine getting in a situation where we’d need to throw more than two knives… But I guess you’ve already been in those types of circumstances and it seems to be even more likely out on the road. Do you want to go over to the blacksmith’s tomorrow and see if you can get a few more?”

Tarc frowned, “Actually, I
don’t
want to go out in town, but I guess if I want the knives I’d better do it, huh? Do you want me to get some more for you too?”

Daum shrugged, then nodded.

***

The next morning, Tarc got up as early as Eva and Daussie did, quickly getting ahead on his chores. Then, while they were serving breakfast, he headed through town to the blacksmiths’ shops, hoping to get there and back before many people were on the streets.

He still encountered a couple of people who frowned, stared, or turned aside when they recognized him, but, with the streets less crowded, it was better than his last trip. When he arrived at John Blacksmith’s shop he had to knock on the door for a bit before anyone answered. When Sally Blacksmith appeared, she stared at him for a moment then glanced both ways down the street before letting him in.

She sighed, “I don’t really believe the things they’ve been saying about you and your family, but if some of the nosy witches in this town saw you coming in here it could cause us trouble.”

Tarc calmed himself and said, “Thank you for letting me in. It will mean a lot to us. I don’t know if you’re aware, but we’ve decided to leave town after the way everyone has been acting towards us.”

Sally drew her head back, “Oh come on! This will blow over, these things
always
do.”

Tarc shrugged, “I wouldn’t know, I haven’t lived through anything like this myself. My parents think it will get better, but they think it won’t ever be good. There’ll always be people saying nasty things behind our back and treating us different even though…” He realized he’d been about to try to tell Sally that Daum had killed Krait. That seemed pointless, no one seemed to believe it and there was no reason to expect that Sally would either.

“Even though what?”

Tarc shrugged, “Even though Krait and his men forced themselves on us just like they did the rest of the town. We
had
to cooperate with them just like everyone else, but we seem to be the only ones who are being called collaborators.”

Sally gave him a sympathetic look. “Yeah, I can see where you were between the proverbial rock and the hard place.” She took a deep breath and gave a weak smile, “Well, what can I do for you today?”

“I don’t know if you’ll remember selling my dad and me some throwing knives? Because we’re going to be out on the road in a caravan now, we’d like to have some more. We’re worried about being attacked by raiders and needing to be able to throw more than just two knives.” While he’d been talking, Tarc pulled one of his knives and one of his father’s out of his pocket and laid them on the counter.

Sally’s eyes widened, “I remember these! You and your dad are damn good at throwing them.” She leaned down and picked at some material between the base of the blade and the guard on Tarc’s knife. “This bigger one is yours, right? You need to take better care of it. If you don’t clean any crud out of this crevice, it will rust and weaken…” Her eyebrows rose, “Is that
blood
?!”