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    Chapter 27


    Fight Back


    Light snow topped the trees and covered the ground of the clearing. Daegan began sweeping it away with his boot. He cleared a small patch where he carefully placed rocks in a circle. Tanlor was doing his customary search of the area for raiders, rakmen, bears and whatever else could be lurking in the woods.


    It had been a painfully quiet three days since they’d left Rowan behind. Daegan had attempted to pull Tanlor into conversation on a few occasions but he’d have better luck trying to get words out of the snow.


    The horses were given the freedom to roam the clearing and were trusted not to wander too far off. Daegan’s own mount was busying himself stripping the bark of a nearby tree.


    “Weird habit that,” Daegan said to the horse. The horse pulled a big chunk of the bark off and puffed loudly in celebration.


    “Talking to my horse… this is how low I’ve fallen.” The horse seemed to be warming to him now that Rowan wasn’t around. Rowan had often talked to the horses like they were people, soothing them when they were skittish or patting them reassuringly after a long ride.


    “You miss him?” Daegan asked and the horse continued strippng the bark, “yeah… me neither. We don’t need him, eh?” His horse didn’t have a name. Rowan had chided him for not naming the beast. A horse needs a name, you can’t keep calling him ‘horse’. But Daegan had enjoyed calling him horse and he’d enjoyed how much Rowan had grumbled about it.


    “Do you want a name?” The horse stamped a hoof in excitement, but that was because he’d finally gotten past the bark and was able to munch directly on the tree itself, “you are a strange one…” Daegan mused as the horse ferociously tore at the tree chunk, ripping splinters of wood out and chewing on them happily.


    “My brother had a horse called Champion… how do you like that?” The horse ignored him.


    “No…” he didn’t look much like Champion anyway. He was a handsome beast but nowhere near as majestic as Landryn’s silky black steed had been.


    “How about Bark-biter?” The horse hacked as it tore off a piece too big for it and spat it out.


    “Guess not… Woodcutter?” The horse snorted.


    “No… you don’t like that either… Termite?” The beast’s tail flicked with glee as it ripped more chunks out, “yeah… I like Termite too. Let’s go for that.” Termite glanced at him for a moment then resumed his devoted work. Daegan took the gesture as approval.


    Daegan looked up at the darkening sky. Don’t want to be collecting wood in the dark. Although Tanlor would be upset if he left the camp before the man had done a thorough check. Daegan shivered. Well I’m not just going to wait around to freeze. He began combing through the underbrush for dead logs and tinder.


    Dead wood tended to have mushrooms growing on them too. Rowan could make a half-decent broth from elf-ear mushrooms. They were easy to recognise because they looked like elf ears poking out of dead trees. “Not a hard one to get wrong,” Rowan had told him, “unless they’re black… then those are rak-ears and unless you want to be shitting buckets of swamp water for the next few days I’d recommend you stay clear of ‘em.” The ones he’d found were all white, some with patches of brown but nothing completely black so they should be safe. There was a plethora of other mushrooms but Daegan wasn’t so confident in spotting which were edible so he avoided grabbing any.


    “Elf-ears are easy not to kill yourself with and unless you’re completely sure just leave ‘em be. Some can even kill you just from touching. So don’t not even touch ‘em if you’re not sure.” Daegan had been surprised when Rowan didn’t have some child-like rhyme to help remember the differences but Rowan had simply laughed, “far too many to fit in a rhyme, you just got to know these things.”


    “White... dinner tonight… Black, turn back…” Daegan muttered as he collected them. That was a good one. Rowan would like that. But Rowan wasn’t coming back so it didn’t matter. There was a line of the white pointy mushrooms leading along some fallen branches that brought him further away from the camp. It was a good haul and he didn’t overly fancy another night of dried meat. A nice elf-ear broth was exactly what he wanted.


    Wash it down with a few sips of whitewhiskey too. Delightful.


    He chuckled, amazed by his new standard of what he considered a good evening. Some dirty boiled mushrooms and cheap booze made from potatoes. If only his father could see him now.  A twig snapped ahead and Daegan’s head shot up. Something large and black hulked about two dozen feet away. The fading light didn’t help Daegan’s sight pierce through the gloom under the trees so he couldn’t discern anything about the shape other than it was large.


    Oh fuck! Daegan’s heart lurched in panic and he dropped the bundle of kindling and mushrooms he’d collected. He staggered back and stumbled on the underbrush. The black mass made a throaty, guttural roar. It was a fucking bear! Oh shit. Instinct screamed at Daegan to run back to the camp. But what would that achieve?


    “A bear will always outrun you. Don''t matter how fast you are, bear’s quicker,” Rowan had said. Daegan had never seen a bear, at least not a living one. There had been dead bears in the palace; hunted, stuffed and propped up for display. The teeth and claws on those dead bears hadn’t been scary then but they certainly were now that they were attached to a very alive and angry bear.


    “Ok, ok,” Daegan breathed, slowly standing straight as the bear shuffled in his direction. He forced down the primal impulse in him to flee, knowing that turning his back on the bear would make the bear think he was prey.


    Brown lay down. Black, fight back. White, goodnight.


    The bear looked pretty fucking black but it was hard to tell as it was mostly a lumbering shadowy form. I am not your prey. Daegan jumped up onto the log trying to make himself appear the larger opponent. The bear stopped and raised himself onto his hind legs. His black form looming in the darkness. Familiar feelings of dread washed over him, similar to the night that Ferath attacked him. That feeling of helplessness before an enemy. He found that the feeling sparked an anger in him.


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    “I am not your fucking prey,” Daegan growled as the anger rose in him, smothering the terror. He reached for the revolver at his belt. The dim glow of the embedded runestones stark in the dim light. He could feel the adrenaline punching him. The bear slapped its paws together and made more unpleasant throaty noises.


    “I’m not happy about this either, but you’re the one that’s approaching me,” Daegan said, raising the revolver in the air, “leave!” Daegan shouted.


    The bear roared in defiance but didn’t come closer.


    “I said leave!” Daegan barked and fired a warning shot into the air. The bullet exploded out, the cracking noise of gunshot resounding in the still woods. The feel of the trigger on his finger made him feel alive! The memory of killing the deserter turned bandit under the bridge a few nights before flashed in his mind. He’d felt strong… powerful. Like a runewielder.


    “Go!” He pointed the gun at the bear. The bear didn’t retreat so Daegan fired again. Another earsplitting reel echoed as he pulled the trigger. The bullet landed and the bear clamoured back in pain, stumbling off its haunches.


    “Get out of here!” Daegan shouted here again, summoning every shred of command he had in him. The shadowy mass of the bear rumbled and then retreated into the underbrush.


    Daegan waited, his finger tentatively hovering over the trigger as the sounds of the bear moving through the growth faded into stillness. His breath was ragged with adrenaline. His fingers still clasped tightly around the handle of the revolver, his palm was sweating. I did it. No one had needed to come protect him, he’d faced a bear… and he’d survived. He hadn’t run, he’d stood tall, defiant and strong.


    Like a real Tredain… Just like Landryn and father and all my ancestors back to Elyina the Defiant herself. He was a warrior… He always had been.


    Movement sounded behind him. Urgent rustling as Tanlor rushed towards him.


    “What is it?!” Tanlor hissed, his enormous blade already drawn, “I heard your gunfire!” His eyes scanned the trees.


    “A bear…” Daegan replied, finally lowering his weapon. He turned to look at Tanlor, “do you mind?” he asked, nodding to the runestones. His throat didn’t tingle, he didn’t feel any of the remnants of shame. I am Tredain. He didn’t yield, he didn’t cower, he didn’t show weakness.


    I am not weak.


    ***


    “Next time wait until I’ve done my sweep,” Tanlor grumbled, stirring the mushroom broth.


    “I was fine… I don’t need a babysitter,” Daegan replied, hitching Termite to the tree that the horse had spent most of the evening butchering. He patted the horse’s neck, “good lad,” he whispered to it. Termite’s ears flicked appreciatively and for once didn’t try to bite Daegan’s hand as he tied the rope.


    “My job is to keep you alive,” Tanlor continued.


    “Well, you’re doing a great job of it so far,” Daegan smirked, widening his arms in an open gesture, “I’m still here, aren’t I?”


    “That bear could’ve torn you apart,”


    “But he didn’t,” Daegan replied, walking into the heat of the campfire, “I feel alive, Tanlor,” he said, unable to sit still, “that was… that was incredible.”


    “It was reckless, I can’t—”


    “—I want you to teach me how to fight like you,” Daegan said with determination.


    “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”


    “It’ll be a lot easier to keep me alive if I can defend myself when needed,” Daegan tried appealing to Tanlor’s rational way of thinking.


    “I’m not against the idea…” Tanlor put his hand in defence, “but we need to be level headed about it,” he postulated. “If you get injured in training… we don’t have healers on hand to help. I can’t recall the amount of broken bones and wounds I’d taken in my early years of training.”


    “Bloodstone doesn’t work on me anyway,” Daegan replied, waving his hand dismissively, “so having healers around wouldn’t matter. You can bandage and stitch pretty well, I watched you work on Wolfhound back at the Greenwood camp.” The fact that the healing effects of bloodstone didn’t work on Daegan was just another frustration in a long list, but at least now it helped him with his argument.


    Tanlor was quiet for a while as he gently stirred the boiling broth, his face bearing an expression of deep thought. Daegan was still too restless to sit down so he continued pacing around the camp.


    “For how long did you train as a boy… before, you know…”


    “Before I learned I was hindered,” Daegan finished for him. His throat scratched at him as he spoke but he pushed on, forcing down the memory of the night his father had encased him with the stone spikes, “I was twelve when it was decided my training would end.”


    “So about two years?”


    “Children in my family start young,” Daegan revealed, “Runewielding from when we’re old enough to sense edirs—which obviously never happened for me—my sister Allyn was runewielding before she could even fully form sentences,” he’d not thought much about his little sister since fleeing Rubastre. He wondered in the back of his mind how his family had reacted from the Duke’s letter explaining the situation.


    “Combat training starts when we’re strong enough to hold a sword,” Daegan continued, “Landryn and I had been sparring from as early as I can remember.”


    “Good,” Tanlor said, approvingly, “you’ll have the basics down then… and muscle memory is a lot stronger than people give credit. I’ve seen veterans who’ve not held a sword in over a decade jump right into a fight as though they’d never even retired.”


    “So you’ll do it?”


    “Reldoni forms are different, so your combat style will be strange…” Tanlor mused, “you’ll have to relearn some pieces to work with what I have to teach.”


    “I can do that.”


    “You’ll have to do what I say,” he said, giving Daegan a levelled stare.


    “What do you think I’ve been doing since we left Rubastre!” Daegan countered.


    “I mean it,” Tanlor affirmed, “no arguments or pulling rank… just do what I say, when I say it. Even when we’re not sparring.”


    Daegan crossed his arms in front of him. He didn’t like the sound of completely submitting to Tanlor’s charge. But at the same time… hadn’t Tanlor already pulled authority over him multiple times on this excursion. It’s not like much would change there.


    “Agreed,” Daegan conceded, and then picked two of the straightest sticks from the pile of firewood he’d collected.


    He tested the weight of one. The bark of the stick was rough in his hand, wisps of dried moss fell from it as he swung it in front him. It had been a long time since he’d held a training sword. It didn’t really pass for the weighted wooden training swords he’d used as a boy but the idea and intent he was putting into it was the same.


    He tossed the other Tanlor and watched him with expectant eyes.


    “You want to start now?” Tanlor said, incredulously, “The broth’s almost ready.”


    “You don’t always get to choose when to fight,” Daegan grinned, remembering his old Swordmaster Garld’s lessons.


    He shifted in an offensive attack stance and lunged for Tanlor.


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