The Sword and The Mountain (Kathardra book 1)
Performance Art

Garret chuckled. “I’ll let you explain this one," he said to Zar, then to Lessa, “We’re done for now. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

Zar chuckled but tilted his head for Lessa to follow. “She snapped.” He squinted at the sky, looking and failing to see an easy explanation in the clouds.

“What does that even mean?” She insisted, trying to keep up with his long-legged strides.

“So, magic is heavily influenced by emotions. If you wield magic in a heavily emotional state the emotions become amplified, and those emotions tend to take control of the magic.”

Horror sapped into Lessa’s bones. “So that little girl just attacked her mother with magic because what, she was mad?”

Zar made a shushing noise stepped closer and lowered his voice. “No, she did not attack her mother. She snapped. It happens to a lot of very young kids who come into their magic too early. Especially if they lack emotional control.”

Lessa stared at him in disbelief. “You have to constantly worry about kids suddenly attacking you every day?”

Zar calmly but firmly shook his head. “No, only if they are coming into their magic too young, and if they are particularly gifted.”

“Why did you hang her upside down?” She asked next. At this, Zar smirked.

“The best way to get someone who has Snapped to snap back is to shock them. It worked well if I do say so myself.”

He smirked and once again started walking back toward his home.

Lessa stared at his back, still shocked.

“We’re doing something a little different today,” Zar said, pulling something from his pocket.

She had gathered as much because he had told her to bring her sword today. They stood in their training meadow, the thick grass around them had long since been padded down. It had never quite managed to recover and laid flat where they did their training. The branches around them had been cut back too, allowing for more room to maneuver around each other.

Lessa didn’t know what she was expecting, but two little chains in his palm were not it.

“Necklaces?” She asked, confused.

“Ha, no, but I can see why you would think that. These,” He pulled his bright silver sword from the sheath at his side and wrapped the slim chain in a figure eight around the cross guard. “Will help us not kill each other while we train with our swords.” He demonstrated by wrapping his hand around the blade, only his skin never made contact. There was about a half-inch gap between his flesh and steel.

“However, it still hurts like dragonfire when you get hit.” He handed Lessa the remaining chain and started twirling his sword through warm-up motions.

For the first time in months, Lessa drew her black blade. It was much lighter than the metal practice sword she had been using. And it felt so good in her calloused hand. She wrapped the chain around the cross guards and deftly clipped it into place.

She tested the blade, but unable to touch the sharp edge she followed Zar’s lead and twirled her sword around her.

The blade cut the air and it sang as it twisted around her. Unable to help herself Lessa laughed as she let the sword move around her, seemingly of its own accord. Side to side, over her head, she twisted into a flourish, kicked imaginary foes behind her, and slashed before her.

This weapon was elegantly personified in a blade. And it was hers. And it felt so right in her hand.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Zar asked all but beaming at her.

She froze mid-swing, she had forgotten he was watching. “Sorry!” she yelped, certain she would be blushing if it weren’t already flushed from exertion.

Without another word, Zar swung at her head. Lessa deflected his attack easily, redirecting his sword, and launched into the offensive. Zar blocked immediately and circled around as Lessa moved to attack him further.

Back and forth they danced around each other, neither relenting, neither able to land a real blow.

“That’s enough,” Zar said putting his hand up and Lessa froze at once, mid-swing, heaving breaths. “That’s it?” She was very confused. They had only been sparring for a few minutes. Zar would often stop them, and run them through a sequence over and over until Lessa could master his alterations on her form. They would be working until midday, break for a meal, and then work until dinner.

“Maybe we should have used your sword a long time ago.” He said, himself breathing heavily.

“But today, I don’t want you too tired.” He took the chain off of his sword and gestured for the one on Lessa’s. “Come on, back to town.”

“Too tired for what?” she asked suspiciously as she handed him the chain.

“What’s happening in town?” she trotted behind him, his gait almost hurried. “Zar!”

“You’ll see.” He said with a smirk.

Anticipation and anxiety rose in Lessa, getting worse the closer they got to town.

Haven was strangely quiet. This time of morning there were generally a lot of people about. But an air of excitement was tangible between the wooden houses.

“Zar,” Lessa asked once more. “What’s happening?”

“Well, you see.” He finally decided to respond. “Much of Haven’s combat community has been wanting to see how well you fight. I’ve been able to stave them off, they are a determined group, until now.”

And with that, they rounded a corner onto a street with a straight line of sight to the field outside of Zar’s family tent.

Lessa froze.

“Oh no no no no no”

The entire field was densely packed with people. Most of them men.

“Oh come on Lessa, you are clearly ready for this,” Zar said, obviously amused at her downright reluctance. He circled around her and pushed at her back.

Lessa locked her legs and her boots started sliding in the hard-packed dirt.

“I can’t. I will throw up. I-there-” She fumbled for any excuse that might get her out of this.

“You can and you will,” Zar said with a final shove that got her to take a step forward.

Someone in the crowd must’ve seen them because almost in a wave they turned and started cheering.

She might actually throw up. Lessa’s face turned red and she could feel her stomach trying to escape through her mouth. Zar grabbed her wrist and marched forward, the masses parted around him like oil around water.

Zar didn’t stop moving until they were alone in an empty ring in the crowd. He lifted her wrist to the air and the craze escalated, the cheering and clapping deafening. He walked them backward until they had completed a slow circle, Zar was clearly adept at milking the crowd for all their energy and worth.

He dropped their hands and there was a sudden silence. Somehow, Lessa preferred the cheering. It had drowned out her pounding heartbeat.

“My friends, my brothers!” Zar called out, and a chorus of appreciative cheers, laughter, and clapping replied to him.

“Never before have we counted a sword maiden amongst our ranks!” More clapping, more cheering. “But! I have heard your concerns. Can a sword maiden really stand amongst Kathardra’s finest!” The response to this was a mixture of deep boos and laughter.

Zar held his hands in front of him in calming supplication, they quieted once more. “I am here to tell you. Not only can she stand among them, she can defeat, nay she can humble them!” At once the crowd whipped into a frenzy.

Lessa tried to inconspicuously wipe her hands on her leggings to rid them of sweat. She couldn’t believe Zar was doing this. He was going to embarrass them both.

“Who would care to challenge the swordmaiden?” Zar said, holding both hands out above him as he spun in a slow circle. The crowd was no longer cheering. But they laughed among themselves, whispered, and some shoved each other half-heartedly forward.

The weight of hundreds of eyes resting, appraising Lessa pushed uncomfortably upon her, as the men hid their apprehension under a veneer of playful bravado. She wanted to itch, to squirm to do anything besides stand there under their gazes.

“Ah!” Zar said behind her, Lessa spun to see a young man, maybe in his early twenties, separate himself from the crowd and march forward with a cocky grin and a sword in his hand. “I should have known you’d be our challenger, Evans!” Zar said, ushering the man forward.

Lessa settled her eyes on the man who would apparently be her opponent. Even though he was young, he was leagues older than Lessa, taller, stronger, and more experienced. Her gut sank. She was going to kill Zar.

Zar held a chain out to the man, Evans, and one to Lessa. She took it reluctantly and started wrapping it around the cross guards of her sword like she had not an hour before.

“Don’t be nervous.”

She looked around, realizing Zar was talking to her discreetly, facing over her shoulder and observing the crowd.

“Trust yourself, Lessa. You can do this.”

He looked over his shoulder at Evens, and then his eyes fell to Lessa, “Easily.” He winked at her and then once again addressed the crowd.

“You all know the rules! Don’t draw blood and the first mortal strike wins, or the first to yield loses!”

Zar dropped his hand between Evans and Lessa and Lessa dropped into a ready stance.

The crowd vanished, Zar vanished, there were no sounds, no movement but Lessa and her opponent.

Evan’s came at her immediately.

He swung his sword with all the grace of a club. Lessa hopped easily to the side and his overhanded swing was far too exaggerated and Lessa tapped him with her sword on his ribs.

“Agh!” He cried, absorbing the blow and cringing away. He came at her again and Lessa once again dodged his strike, this time she cut across his hamstring, of course, it didn’t draw blood but it still hurt. Her blow knocked him forward, and she contributed to his momentum with a kick to his back.

He struggled to regain his balance but Lessa had the tip of her sword to the back of his neck.

“Dead!” Zar cried out and the crowd went wild.

Evans turned around and was clearly surprised to see her sword tip nearly at his eyes. He houghed, scowled, and marched to the edge of their human arena.

“Someone can do better than that!” Zar cried out, laughter surrounded them and Lessa nearly felt bad for Evans who was looking rather embarrassed.

Another man separated himself from the crowd. Lessa watched him wearily, he must’ve been older than Evans by a good ten years. Lessa thought wearily that he could be twice her own age.

“Gennadius!” Zar welcomed the man forward with a flourish to the thrill of the crowd. The chain that had been wrapped around Evans’ blade was moved to Gennadius and Lessa lowered to her ready stance.

Gennadius readied himself across from Lessa and stared her down. He took a step to the left, and Lessa stepped to the right.

They slowly circled, Lessa mirroring his every step. Until she lost patience and launched toward him halfway through a step. She had hoped to throw him off balance and it worked for a second, but it didn’t.

One strike after another the man blocked Lessa’s strikes. But Lessa could see that he was starting to struggle with her speed. She juked her blade halfway through her last blow and neatly lodged her blade under one of his arms and over the other. Fast as a viper strike she lifted, and twisted, leveraging his blade away from him.

She snaked her sword tip to rest just under his chin.

He leaned away and raised his hands, eyeing her wearily.

“Ahhhh!” Zar exclaimed, “You had her there for a moment, Gennadius!” Zar interrupted the tension, the crowd laughing at his joke. With a flourish, Lessa swept her blade away.

Gennadius bowed slightly and took a seat next to Evan’s.

The next man who detached from the masses had to be at least two feet taller than Lessa, he was as thin as he was tall.

I’ll have to watch his reach. She determined as he sauntered over.

She was not wrong. The man had a massive reach. His attacks weren’t hard to block, but his reach was so long that any attack on Lessa’s part would be pointless. She couldn’t even reach him.

A risk had to be taken.

Subtly Lessa increased the distance between herself and her opponent, she loosened her guard over the next few attacks.

And he took the bait. He lunged, his sword tip extended far out and Lessa spun toward him along the length of his blade. Getting well inside of his range, Lessa spun under his arm, and just as she thought he would he took a step back, just as she swept her leg behind hm. He stumbled backward.

With a fist to his chest, Lessa helped him along, and fell upon him, her sword to his chest as he hit the ground.

“Well, Gennadius, you lasted longer than a few seconds,” Zar said loudly as Lessa righted herself and offered her hand down to the man. He took it, and walked to where the defeated sat, rubbing his chest.

“Colm!” A random voice shouted, volunteering a man forward.

A middle-aged man emerged from the sidelines. Lessa was truly wary of him. He reminded her of her father.

He clearly wasn’t cocky, he walked with the calm confidence that came with age.

Colm still walked away, rubbing his lower back.

The line of defeated men grew. Each joining the other fallen sitting in a row. The crowd was shouting forward harder, more experienced opponents.

Lessa’s lungs were burning and sweat dripped from her temples by the time she added the eighth man to the seated. She scowled at her opponents as they clapped for the man and cheered their comrades.

Lessa spun in a circle, sword hung limply at her side. She couldn’t handle much more, it seemed the men had run out of warriors to send forward. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Until.

“Zar!” Someone called.

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