Yrsa II
In the fenced-in yard behind the Blacksmith’s shop, Yrsa urged her body into position. The sparring daggers were a magnitude heavier than when they had started. She dragged her arms into the pose Gorm had taught her but nearly forgot about her legs. She bent her knees against reluctant muscles. A solid stance was the difference in a real fight.
Gorm lunged at her. Yrsa deflected his dulled blade with her own and countered, thrusting toward his chest. Gorm danced to her side, though, and in a blink, Yrsa felt the knife at her neck.
“You’re tired,” Gorm lowered the knife and Yrsa’s body unclenched. She grunted at him and walked over for water. It was frustrating that her body couldn’t keep up with her head. She wanted to practice all day, every day. She had convinced Gorm to exclusively spar today; she wanted to burn energy instead of walking through another boring lesson. She set a reckless pace during the session and sapped her strength within an hour. “That’s enough for today,” Gorm continued. “No good comes from taking on tired habits.” Gorm walked to a bench and set down his daggers.
“Warriors never fight fully rested,” Yrsa countered. Knives raised, she lowered into her stance and glared at Gorm. He smiled and casually walked toward her.
“There’s no doubt you’re tough, kid,” he said. He exploded in motion and grabbed each of her arms. It was humiliating to be beaten so quickly by her unarmed teacher. “But you’re getting sloppy. You’re starting in the arms, you forget the legs.” He released her, and Yrsa drooped. “Great work today. Those were real scores you got against me, you should be proud.”
Yrsa mumbled. “You still won. Killed me ten times for each of mine.”
“Few weeks ago, you couldn’t touch me with the things.” Gorm smiled and lumbered across the yard. “Most skill at your age I’ve ever seen. Just don’t go whoopin any of the boys in town before yer married, now. Bad for business.”
“I’ll find a knight on the road. All the boys in town are chickenshit.”
Gorm bellowed a deep and honest laugh. “Won’t find me arguing!”
…
Yrsa approached the tavern, but something stopped her from opening the door. She turned and walked around the building, following the sounds of an argument. She came to the back of the tavern and saw the tavern keeper Margaret and Arne, the traveling bard. Margaret saw Yrsa, then looked back at Arne.
“I’ll be counting interest,” Margaret said, then opened the door and disappeared into the tavern. Arne slumped to the ground beside his belongings: a lute case and a hefty traveling sack. He put his hands on his face; he hadn’t seen Yrsa yet.
“Arne,” she startled him. “What was that about?”
“Oh Yrsa,” he shook his head. “I can’t pay my bill.”
“What? You’re the best bard in the county.”
“I’m embarrassed, Yrsa.” He wasn’t looking at her. She walked over and sat on the ground beside him.
“I don’t understand. I figured you were richer than anyone in Flour Town.”
“Oh Yrsa. I haven’t a penny on me.” Arne put his face in his hands.
“What about your tour?”
“There’s no tour. I’ve been hiding out here. I fled all night to get here.” He looked at her. “I don’t know what to do!”
“I don’t understand, Arne!” Yrsa grew frustrated. She didn’t understand why adults beat around the bush so much. “Tell me what’s going on. Hiding out? From who?”
“I love Flour Town,” Arne said. “News gets here so slowly. There’s big happenings in the north. They call themselves The Movement. They robbed me and ran me out of Water Town. I barely got out with this,” he waved his arm towards his travel sack and lute case.
“What? Why would they do that? Didn’t you tell the sheriff?”
“Sheriffs on their side! They’re protesting and forming mobs. They’re angry with anyone that uses magic. They threatened to burn down the local infirmary because they think the nurse is a witch.”
Yrsa scrunched her face, processing the information. “Magic? What’s that got to do with you?”
“A little secret amongst the bards. Anyone worth their strings knows a few tricks to win a crowd over.” He put his hands up in defense. “Don’t mistake; I can really sing and play. But a well-timed trick here or there makes the difference between a journeyman and a legend.” Yrsa took a moment to think.
“Okay. It’s not very honest to your audience….”
“We’re not the wizards in our stories, child. But when I perform Knight on the Hill, I want tears! I want the people to really feel the anguish of Eldenrosh.”
“So… you use magic to get better tips?” Yrsa thought back to the performances. Was she put under a spell, or were those her real emotions? She felt they were natural, but she didn’t know what it was like to be influenced by magic.
“I use a trick or two to get people out of their shells.” Arne was on the defensive. “I help folks forget their hard lives and stress for just a little while. That’s why they’ve come to see me anyway! I’m not hypnotizing folks unwillingly. Just easing them like a mug of ale might.”
“Okay,” Yrsa was happy to put that topic aside for the moment. “But they ran you out of town for it?”
“Aye, they’re chasing off anyone they suspect of using magic. They’re all over Faucberg, and word’s spread to Water Town. They’re probably protesting in Bread Town as well. I didn’t bother to stop; I knew I could lay low here.” Arne shook his head, exasperated. “But now I’ve got no place to stay, no money, and I don’t know what to do!”
Yrsa regarded him; seeing a grown man so distraught was unpleasant. Why would anyone run Arne out of town? All the tales she heard from Covidia’s past were from Arne. He was her most trustworthy source of news, and one of the only travelers that came to Flour Town with any regularity. Yrsa knew that Harry, Arne’s apprentice, would love to take him in. But Harry’s home was beyond full, so much so that two of Harry’s brothers slept in the barn. “C’mon, you can stay with Papa and I.” She stood and offered a hand to help Arne up. “Won’t be as nice as the tavern, but it’s a roof overhead.”
“Oh Yrsa, are you sure he’ll agree?”
“Of course. He might charge you a song and story a night, though.”
“Oh thank you, Yrsa, thank you!” Arne leapt up and grabbed his belongings.
Previous Chapter: https://therealzsmith.com/2023/02/17/resistance-chapter-6/
Next Chapter: https://therealzsmith.com/2023/03/03/resistance-chapter-8/
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