The Totem-Maker (part thirty-nine)

The Totem-Maker

Chapter Five

The Mustering Grounds

(part thirty-nine)

The knife was iron; together with the shield, too heavy. “Could I fight with only a shield, though?”

“Can you kill a man with a blow?”

Thoughts of divine justice… But I hadn’t the strength of a rearing horse. “Suppose I knocked the knife from his hand?”

“Is this the way I teach you? Hold those up! Knife at your waist, shield below the shoulder.”

I faced him, my knife as instructed, shield pulling towards my knee. He touched the side of my neck with his own knife.

“I hadn’t thought of that. I’d have guessed it was the heart.”

“You may guess any foolish thing you like. But quicken your intellect. I will do that again. I want you to tell me anything you see that may be of use to you.”

He swung the blade, while I stood feckless, wishing by the gods to have my intellect quickened.

“Again.”

This time, as slowly, slowly, for my sake, Stol lifted his blade, I leaned and countered with mine…just there, at the elbow. Intuition suggested it, that the muscles moving the arm be severed.

“And why do you know what you know?”

“Because you were slow for me.”

Pytta ordered the best of her kitchen for our lunch (and more than any delicacy, it bolstered me knowing her silence was not disdain). My aching limbs, by afternoon, taught me a wiser economy of effort.

A lunge with the knife must complete itself. The weight would carry. The driving home was not the moment of decision; it was the moment of weakness. Every act that distracted or frightened Mumas, was the battle. I must learn to feint with an eye to opportunity.

“How does the blade come out? You will have to know it. If he rolls and rips the knife from your hand, if he has the strength to come at you yet… Am I joking?”

“No, Stol, but what if I ran, and kept running? Staying within the field, of course… It is really against the rules?”

I’d given a picture, and he struggled to find it uncomic. “Please dishonor me as little as you may. I want to see a sober look. Mumas thinks you a spoilt, coddled creature. Handle your arms as you have today, and he may give you the gift at the outset, before you tire yourself.”

Exaggerate, play on my enemy’s folly. I took this lesson, and sober eyes from Stol’s face. When he raised his weapon, I let the shield slide to earth.

Caught by impulse, looking, my seasoned tutor left his belly clear for the touch of my knife—

It shook a bit, then, with laughter.

42

To Be and to Choose

The Totem-Maker (part forty)

(2018, Stephanie Foster)