“I’m sorry I pointed an arrow at the back of your head,” she said, flatly without diverting her gaze from the front.
“That’s ok. Don’t think Zionbuss would have saved Ragna unless you did. I’m sorry you’ve got caught up in this...” Elora raised her hands, thinking of the right word. “Quest. It’ll likely get us all killed.”
“I expect so. Truth is, Ragna’s been itching to get his hands bloody for a while. He’s an alright farmer, and a great father to Jaygen but he’s a Viking at heart. It’s not easy living under the names of his father and grandfather. He needs this so he can prove to himself he’s cut from the same cloth.”
“And you?”
“I’m just making sure he doesn’t get himself killed, carving himself a name for the songs.”
“The songs are worth the dying for,” said Otholo, joining them. Elora could see he was back to himself, cocky as ever as he leaned against the gunnel, strumming his lute.
“What’s the point in having your own song when you’re not around to hear it?” Ejan asked.
“So that they can live forever in the minds of the listeners. Their daring deeds heard down the ages. Stories sung...”
“But why? What’s the point? No doubt the facts will be changed and blown out of proportion.”
Elora sensed an argument brewing between the pair so decided to change the subject. “Can you teach me how to hold a sword? Back on the ridge I tried to stab a bulworg with my dagger, but it was easily taken from me.”
“I saw. But you soon dropped him with that punch to the throat.”
Elora shook her head. “No, that was the other me. The one I’m supposed to be controlling. I thought if I were better with a sword they’d be less chance of her showing herself.”
“Might be you’re right. Ok, I can show you how to wield a blade, maybe a couple of moves and blocks but don’t go thinking you can fight. Until you know what you’re doing you could just as easily slice one of us or yourself by accident.”
Elora smiled at that and Ejan grinned back “I’ll go see Zionbuss, he’s bound to have a few spare swords lying around the ship.”
It turned out that Zionbuss had a hold in the belly of the Necrolosis, full of weapons and armour. Things he said he took from the bodies that made up the ship. Elora found Bray on the way and he helped her find something suitable, nothing too big and heavy. yet not too small. In the end she found a kind of rapier with a curving hand guard. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing any fingers if it came down to a sword fight.
“You’re ok with me learning? I mean, if you would rather teach me,” she began but Bray stopped her with a kiss.
“I’d be a rubbish teacher. Your lips would keep getting in my way,” he said, his mouth spreading into a cheeky grin. “Besides, Ejan is as good a fighter as any.”
“But not as good a kisser.”
“Oh, I don’t know?” Bray said, cocking his head to the side and mocking a wistful look. “Maybe I ought to have a few lessons from her myself,” he laughed when she punched him in the arm.
“Nobody touches those lips but me. Ok?” she said, pointing her new sword at his chest.
“Fine. They’re all yours,” he kissed her again before they left the hold, fingers entwined.
“Not bad,” remarked Ejan when she returned to the deck. The Viking swung the sword around making whipping sounds in the air. Stared down the blade and tested its edge with her thumb. “Not bad at all. It’s good steel, well balanced, light enough to be quick yet strong enough to parry.” She passed it back to Elora and drew her own sword. “Plant your feet shoulder width apart, your leading foot slightly in front of the other.” Elora did so. “Good. Now don’t grip the sword too tightly: you need your whole arm to be fluid. You don’t know where your opponent will attack from so your eyes need to be on theirs, watching for any subtle change.”
Without warning Ejan stepped towards her. The Viking’s arm was a blur of motion as she knocked the sword from Elora’s hand. It clattered to the deck as the Ejan flicked the point of her weapon in front of Elora’s face. “The grip was too slack. Pick it up, let’s do it again,” Elora did as she was told and adopted the same position. “Dip your shoulder. Remember, keep your wrist fluid, your sword is an extension of your arm.”
Ejan sprang forwards again, Elora only managed to twist her blade an inch before it clattered once again to the floor.
“Pick it up,” ordered Ejan. “You’re looking at me, but not seeing. My eyes will give away my intention, my shoulder, elbow, dip in the knee, no matter how minuscule, will project my next move.
Elora gritted her teeth ready for the next attack. She watched Ejan carefully, concentrating on keeping her grip relaxed but firm, her wrist supple and free of movement. She stared into the Viking’s blue eyes, she didn’t know what she was looking for.
A slight narrowing of the lids, so subtle she would have missed it if she wasn’t concentrating so hard. Followed by a shift in her shoulder and without thinking about it Elora brought her sword about and met Ejan’s. The impact jolted up her arm, followed by her attacker’s blade twisting and sending her own sword spinning from her hand.
“Pick it up.”
Again, Elora bent to pick up her sword, wondering if asking Ejan to teach her was such a good idea. She returned to the same spot and adopted the stance. Before she had her feet planted, Ejan came on.
Elora brought her sword down in time to block the blade, catching the jarring impact yet remembering to let her wrist twist with the it. The moment of joy as she held onto her sword was short lived as Ejan stepped through and tapped her hilt against Elora’s finger guard. Her sword spun from her grasp and hit the deck point first, where it stuck.
“Pick it up.”
Elora kept her eyes on Ejan this time, although she was still taken by surprise as she came on as soon as the sword was free from the bone deck. Elora quickly planted her feet and spun, her blade glancing off Ejan’s as she attacked.
Steel rang in the air, her arm jolting with the impact yet she held on. This time she kept the sword moving, bringing it about again and caught the second blow. Instinctively she took a stepped away as Ejan made a third swipe, cutting the air in front of her. Elora caught the blade, but with her weight now on the back foot she was shoved off balance and fell, landing hard on her back, her blade skittering across the floor.
Before Ejan had chance to speak, Elora said. “I know, pick it up.”
Ejan smirked. “Footwork is the cornerstone of sword play. Without your feet, you will fall.”
They practiced for what seemed like hours, but with no sun or moon and the sky a constant unchanging red, there was no reference of time except for the mountains that appeared closer than they were when they began.
Ejan’s attacks were harsh, not letting up and never giving ground and the only breaks Elora had were when she was picking her sword up - which was often. At one point she had blocked and parried several attacks in one go, sensing a kind of rhythm with the blades, feeling her arm work instinctively until Ejan hooked her foot around her shin and sent her tumbling. Bray had caught her, giving her a wink before spinning her around to catch another flurry of blows.
“You’re getting better,” he whispered, as she caught Ejan’s blade. She didn’t share his confidence but was glad for the compliment. By then the others had come to watch, even a couple of the skeletal crew were pausing in their work, empty sockets staring from the deck or rigging.
Block, parry, duck; dodge, parry, block, swing. Elora kept her gaze on Ejan, almost sensing her next move, a dip of her left shoulder telegraphed her intention she was about to lunge. But instead of meeting her blade with her own, Elora skipped the beat and lunged herself, thrusting her sword forwards.
A sudden flash of pain from her wrist and the world flipped upside down before the deck rushed to meet the back of her head.
