Hunting Haidians

[Jake Narmolanya]

“What was it like training under Joshua Cronen?” Selima asked as we made our way northward through the streets of Serenti. People and horses bustled on all sides and hawkers sold roasted meats and other goods, but the fresh smell of the sea whipped in on the breeze.

“You know of Breaker?” I asked in surprise. I knew that Cronen had visited Fallien, and I knew he’d made a considerable impact, but it still seemed like a fair coincidence that this one woman from the desert nation would have heard of him.

“We were here in Serenti when Cronen slew the Thayne Draconus.” Marvin the giant ginger interrupted, pacing up between us. A delyn flanged mace hung at his hip, dark glassy wings flashing in the sunlight.

“Breaker didn’t kill Draconus,” I lied, repeating the story I’d been told. “Shinsou Vaan Osiris did.”

“That’s what most people think,” Selima said with a wink. “But I was in the southern watchtower when Joshua Cronen rose above the great dragon and struck him down. We know the truth of these things.” A knowing nod passed between the five slayers. “So, what was it like training with him?” Selima pressed.

“Hard and painful,” I said with a rueful grin, instinctively reaching over my shoulder to touch the hilt of my crystal sword. “And always unpredictable. Once he made me practice sheathing and unsheathing my sword all day in different ways. For weeks he had me running up and crawling down a mountain every morning. And no matter how hard we sparred, the bastard never even broke a sweat.”

“Sounds like you might have a thing or two to teach us!” Marvin exclaimed with a wink, again cutting me off from Selima. As the six of us left city limits and ventured into the thin forest, the giant ginger stopped and pointed to a clearing. “How about there?”

“Looks perfect,” I said, striding into the meadow and sliding my sword from its sheathe. I let the weapon hang in a limp arm as I rolled my shoulders, loosening up. “I’ll take the brothers first.”

Dirk and Flint both snorted in disdain and unsheathed their longswords and dirks, coming at me together without hesitation.

“Hold there!” Marvin cried, and the brothers stopped. For a moment, I thought the giant ginger was going to lecture us on the dangers of sparring with live weaponry. “Take him from both sides at the same time,” he advised his compatriots, “that way he’ll be hemmed in by blades.