Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,100
you mind?” he grumbled.
Timur shook his head. “He’s not coming.”
“He is,” argued Sinder. “That’s rather the point of this exercise.”
“Kyrie’s father is a fox. Do you really think he’ll come at you, full charge, yodeling a battle cry?”
“I used to do that,” confessed Mikoto.
Timur chuckled. “Me, too.”
“I suppose you think you were cute?” Sinder could picture it, though. Little battlers could be adorably idiotic. Easy pickings.
“I’ve improved somewhat.” Timur’s grin was probably meant to be modest.
Mikoto, who’d been sketching a map into the dirt with a stick, asked, “Could you catch Sinder?”
“I have caught him.” Timur eyed Sinder speculatively. “I’d like to try again.”
“What do you use for restraints?” Mikoto’s posture was respectful, his expression interested. “If the goal is to catch and keep, how do you confine a dragon?”
With a final scan of the surroundings, Sinder dropped into a crouch beside Mikoto. “Primer time. It’s not as if you need enchanted chains or anything. Rope works if it’s heavy enough. Or better yet, woven cords reinforced by an ambuscade. Way back when, they’d work crystals into the weave.”
“I am not familiar with such equipment.”
“Specialty stuff.” Ever since the Junzi had come to light, Sinder had developed a morbid fascination for the accoutrement of dragon slayers. The fabled Four Storms were one-of-a-kind, but there were records of plenty of more humdrum ways to ensnare dragonkind.
“They’d encase wardstones in rope. Which was crazy. Not only did it cost a fortune to synchronize enough crystals to properly lasso a winged dragon, but the resulting rope would be incredibly heavy.”
“Weighted ropes?” mused Mikoto.
“Impractical in the extreme. Understandably obsolete.” Sinder glanced at Timur, who was quietly studying his own hands. “Even if there were any of these ropes still lying about, they’d be moldering. Historical significance falls by the wayside when a financially-strapped family can unravel them in order to sell off the wardstones.”
Timur lifted his gaze … and smirked.
Sinder’s confidence wavered. “Wielding them would require both physical strength and a ward’s finesse.”
Both of which Timur had in abundance. Dunce and double dunce.
“Surely not,” Sinder muttered, all accusing.
“They’re really more like whips.” Timur was enjoying this way too much. “And there are still a few artisans who carry on the crafting of traditional weapons. Innovating on them, as well.”
Mikoto glanced between them. “You have seen this weapon?”
“Most of the length is about this thick.” Timur held out his thumb. “Leather grip. Weighted tip. And heavy as a bag of rocks.”
Sinder muttered an oath. “You keep one lying around?”
“Hardly.” Timur scratched behind his ear. “Battlers take better care of their weapons.”
Mikoto’s fascination doubled. “You know this weapon.”
“I have the strength and a ward’s aptitude.” Timur lifted muscular arms and described a flowing circle over his head. “Mum started me in on ropework when I was still just a kid. Been focusing on those kinds of weapons ever since—whips, flails, chains, nets. Fend and I started practicing with the real thing this past winter.”
All eyes turned to the feline, who greeted their interest with a curled lip.
Sinder wasn’t used to being uninformed. “Well that’s … certainly something that could have been mentioned sooner.”
“Like you said, they’re specialty weapons. None of the battlers in this allotment were chosen for that kind of training.”
Mikoto sighed. “I would like to try.”
“Any foundation for this type of weapon?” Timur was clearly asking to be polite.
“Yes. My favorite is a chain scythe.”
Timur gave him a hard look and a harder pinch. They were soon grappling on the ground like a couple of children. Finally pinning him, Timur asked, “You ride, yes? Ever done mounted maneuvers?”
“I am proficient. My partner is Merl Alpenglow.”
“We are going to spar. Soon.” Timur let the younger man up and slanted a look at Sinder. “And then we’ll team up against our dragon friend here.”
Sinder stated the obvious. “You have all the markings of a top recruit.”
“That is … nice to hear.”
Timur grimaced. “Don’t suppose Wardenclave would let us borrow you?”
Mikoto simply shook his head.
“Right. Still.” Timur clapped Mikoto’s shoulder. “Over the summer, we can make good and sure that Wardenclave’s headman is fully equipped to defend his home.”
Sinder detected a subtle shift in the wind and straightened. “I think he’s coming.”
“Before things get dicey, I’ll do you a favor.” Timur stood and dusted off the seat of his breeches. Drawing something on the palm of his hand, he showed it to Sinder. “May I?”
It was a sigil. “A barrier?”
“You’re as good as marked. My fault entirely.” Timur pointed.
Sinder groaned and lifted his shirt. “Kyrie tried to