Gavin’s arm felt like it would fall right out of its socket into the dirt. He tensed his forearm muscles and raised the sword just high enough to parry the blow from Selden Bramish. He felt the vibration all the way into his chest and up into his teeth, which ground together painfully. Bramish raised his broadsword once more, this time from above his head and swung it powerfully down at the exhausted Gavin.
Gavin’s sword put up a weak defense, and it wrenched loose from his grip. The weight of the broadsword and the might of Selden’s swing would surely crush Gavin’s exposed head. If the old swordsman hadn’t relented on the blow at the last instant.
“That would’ve cleaved your skull in two, boy,” Bramish said. He reached over to the flagon of ale he placed on the bench next to the pit where they practiced their swordplay. A veteran of a mercenary company from Koth, Bramish was very nearly the only citizen of the free cities with real experience in combat.
“But in fairness, you’ve gotten much better these last two lessons. Maybe I’m a great teacher, or maybe you’ve paid me with enough ale that my reflexes are shot,” the swordmaster said.
“I can barely raise my arm, even without the sword. We’ve been at it for two hours. How can you still lift your sword?”
“Your body is always strong enough, young Gavin. Your problem is in your brain. You think overmuch. There’s no time in combat to think. If you let your thoughts guide your body, it will inevitably bring ideas like “tired” or “too weak” or “cannot go on” and then you’ve lost. Your body can do ten times what your brain thinks it can,” Selden marveled at his own wisdom in this matter. Sometimes the mouth outpaces the brain, he thought.
“That makes sense. I’ve got to get back to the Inn. Anik wants to get an early night’s rest. Will you be coming by for dinner?” Gavin asked.
“Of course, what else have I got to do?” said Selden.
“When did you know you were going to be a warrior Selden?”
“Gavin, Gavin...I didn’t know I was going to be anything. My father was a poor farmer, and from the earliest I could remember I helped him in the fields, and with the animals. And then I’d help my mother make cheese. When my father couldn’t pay the Lord’s taxes, well, that’s when the “accident” happened at the farmhouse. My mother, my father, my brothers, all burned up, heaven help them still. I was maybe eight years old, so I took off to Koth, hitching up with a caravan of merchants,”
“And how did you end up in the Grey Ox Company?” Gavin asked.
“A captain by the name of Hirsh, a hardened knight, who lost his lands in war, took pity on me when he caught me trying to steal one of the company’s chickens,” Selden said, looking into the great blue sky as he reminisced. A tear formed in his eye. “He told me never steal. If you need something to eat, or to drink, or a place to rest, come right out and ask. He was a warrior, but he was a priest too. Not a proper one, but he spoke to Celsior daily. I’ve met many monks, priests, and abbotts, but Hirsh was the only one I ever believed to have true communion with a deity.
“He saved my life, and I became like a squire to him. He taught me tactics, he taught me how to handle a sword, and most importantly, he taught me how to avoid a bad fight.”
“He sounds like a great man, Selden,” Gavin said, “I wish I could have met him.”
Selden laughed. “You might still! Even Hadrius himself would have a hard time claiming old Hirsh. The last I saw of him, he still trained the Grey Ox grunts, and found himself a third wife. And the last thing he taught me...you know what that was, Gavin?”
“No.”
“He taught me to drink, Gavin. Let’s get back to the Inn.”
Gavin’s sword put up a weak defense, and it wrenched loose from his grip. The weight of the broadsword and the might of Selden’s swing would surely crush Gavin’s exposed head. If the old swordsman hadn’t relented on the blow at the last instant.
“That would’ve cleaved your skull in two, boy,” Bramish said. He reached over to the flagon of ale he placed on the bench next to the pit where they practiced their swordplay. A veteran of a mercenary company from Koth, Bramish was very nearly the only citizen of the free cities with real experience in combat.
“But in fairness, you’ve gotten much better these last two lessons. Maybe I’m a great teacher, or maybe you’ve paid me with enough ale that my reflexes are shot,” the swordmaster said.
“I can barely raise my arm, even without the sword. We’ve been at it for two hours. How can you still lift your sword?”
“Your body is always strong enough, young Gavin. Your problem is in your brain. You think overmuch. There’s no time in combat to think. If you let your thoughts guide your body, it will inevitably bring ideas like “tired” or “too weak” or “cannot go on” and then you’ve lost. Your body can do ten times what your brain thinks it can,” Selden marveled at his own wisdom in this matter. Sometimes the mouth outpaces the brain, he thought.
“That makes sense. I’ve got to get back to the Inn. Anik wants to get an early night’s rest. Will you be coming by for dinner?” Gavin asked.
“Of course, what else have I got to do?” said Selden.
“When did you know you were going to be a warrior Selden?”
“Gavin, Gavin...I didn’t know I was going to be anything. My father was a poor farmer, and from the earliest I could remember I helped him in the fields, and with the animals. And then I’d help my mother make cheese. When my father couldn’t pay the Lord’s taxes, well, that’s when the “accident” happened at the farmhouse. My mother, my father, my brothers, all burned up, heaven help them still. I was maybe eight years old, so I took off to Koth, hitching up with a caravan of merchants,”
“And how did you end up in the Grey Ox Company?” Gavin asked.
“A captain by the name of Hirsh, a hardened knight, who lost his lands in war, took pity on me when he caught me trying to steal one of the company’s chickens,” Selden said, looking into the great blue sky as he reminisced. A tear formed in his eye. “He told me never steal. If you need something to eat, or to drink, or a place to rest, come right out and ask. He was a warrior, but he was a priest too. Not a proper one, but he spoke to Celsior daily. I’ve met many monks, priests, and abbotts, but Hirsh was the only one I ever believed to have true communion with a deity.
“He saved my life, and I became like a squire to him. He taught me tactics, he taught me how to handle a sword, and most importantly, he taught me how to avoid a bad fight.”
“He sounds like a great man, Selden,” Gavin said, “I wish I could have met him.”
Selden laughed. “You might still! Even Hadrius himself would have a hard time claiming old Hirsh. The last I saw of him, he still trained the Grey Ox grunts, and found himself a third wife. And the last thing he taught me...you know what that was, Gavin?”
“No.”
“He taught me to drink, Gavin. Let’s get back to the Inn.”