“Well, I’m going, obviously,” Woodro muttered.
A few guffaws echoed around the circle, but Ren didn’t laugh. The remaining members of his original crew stood in a circle with him, along with a few of the crew from Captain Urro’s vessel, as the sun set behind the Isle of Dusk’s strange hill. Through the trees, the blinding rays became a muted orange glow. He nodded. “Woodro, thank you,” he said. His friend had broken the awkward silence that followed the announcement that they would accept the teleportation spell to reach their destination. No one was pleased about it.
“And me,” Asar said.
“Is your ankle strong enough?” Ren asked. Asar has once been their top fighter, but his capture at the hands of the Grey Brethren had not been kind.
“You know it is,” Asar muttered. He called louder, “You saw me fight earlier!”
“It’s true,” Ren said. “Alright, one more.”
Omma spoke up, the enormous man with rounded shoulders and bald head, but Ren raised his hand. “You’re the only one here who’s got any experience in book-keeping, administration, and organizing work details. I want you to help Captain Urro and Lerran, and stay.”
“Very well,” the gruff voice replied. Omma bowed his head.
Before anyone else could speak up—and it looked like a few would—Karsef stepped forward. “I’ve been by Lerran’s side as much as possible. We all should have been there, in Sheld, to fight for the Family, and it’s only because of these damned islanders that we weren’t.” He inhaled, and exhaled, and bowed his head. “But if you say that this is the way, then it is. You’re my Captain, and I’d be honored to help earn our place with our saviors, whether I like ‘em or not.”
“Whoa, thank you, Karsef,” Ren said. “That would make us a solid team of four, if you’re serious. Lerran and the others will be safe without us, and the rest of this lot will make damned sure of it, right?”
A chorus of cheers and battle-cries echoed between the circle and Karsef smiled. “Count me in then,” he said.
“Asar, Karsef, Woodro, and myself,” Renado said. The sun was fading quicker now, but he still wanted to get a few more rounds of sparring in when the heat was less severe. “We train on the double for the next week. We’ll have these magicians send us a few days into the next Moon.”
The group murmured in agreement, then Ren barked, “Dismissed.”
Woodro was itching for another duel, it seemed, so the two of them did some stretches and drills to warm up in the sandy yard. Ren spotted Lerran and Tassina watching from a small wooden bench in front of their guest home. She was looking larger and larger each day it seemed to Ren. According to Lerran, she was five-months pregnant now. Another four moons, and they’d welcome the newest member of their family.
“Ready?” Woodro asked. Much of their training had been with a focus on adaptability and what little expectation they could have in the face of an opponent gifted with enhanced abilities. This was just a fight, man-on-man, but it was good practice nonetheless.
Ren started to raise his guard, to assume a pose, but his comrade only feinted walking toward his starting position, and instead jabbed right at him. Renado stumbled back, slashing his sword against the dull blade of his opponent. Woodro lashed out with a fist for Ren’s ribs. A simple tilt of Ren’s elbow deflected it, and Ren’s sparring sword thrust out from its sideways parry forced Woodro to distance himself by a few steps.
Now they circled each other, their guards shifting to match angles. Ren jabbed, then slashed from the right. Woodro blocked, then taunted left, angled right. Their dull sparring swords clattered above and below their shoulders and their chattering friends fell silent to watch them dance and grunt to land a blow on one another. Sweat dripped through Ren’s eyesight before long, but he peered through the salt to finally poke Woodro in the thigh with the rounded point of his sparring blade.
Woodro fell down on one knee, his sword slashing upward and grazing Ren’s side. Ren threw his shoulder back before the metal pole caught him in his armpit, and brought his sword swiftly downward. Woodro somehow managed to angle his sword to defend yet again, but the force of Ren’s blow, brought to bear on a kneeling position, knocked Woodro’s own weapon against his forehead.
When Ren’s opponent finally reclaimed his feet, holding his head and grinning, the applause of the audience was finally subsiding. Woodro extended his palm and grabbed Ren’s hand. “That’s a first,” he said, with a wink. “You’re really learning a lot from this training process.”
Renado chuckled. He had lost many a fight to Woodro, but he wanted to kill Axar with minimal casualties. The Family of Lerran was small enough now—they all needed to fight as well as Woodro. He got a wave from his brother, and waved back. Then he looked at the group of warriors around him and asked, “Who’s next?”