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Isavet strides right through the mercenary camp. Little by little, the men
notice her and stop what they’re doing. They’re mostly cleaning their
spears, polishing their spears, and sharpening their spears. They’re doing a
lot with their spears. Isavet asked her father for a sword, but he promised
that his friend in the city would forge her a better one, and that she
wouldn’t need it until she got there. That is one thing she is missing out
on. But it’s in the wrong direction, and she doesn’t want to waste precious
time on formal lessons. She wants to get into it. She has already fought
before when she had to defend her home. She understands the mechanics; she
just needs more practice.
As Isavet is walking through, she’s looking for a target. She isn’t going to
go after the biggest guy here. She may be a fighter at heart, but she’s wise
enough to know her limits. She doesn’t want the lankiest, least muscular guy
either, though. She wants someone right in the middle; preferably one who
thinks he’s the cock of the day. Maybe it’s him? No, he looks like he may be
soft, like Isavet’s brother. There’s definitely something different about
him. They are all leering at her with lust, but he looks like he wants to
court her first. Which is obviously not what she needs right now. Moving
along.
There he is. There’s her man. He’s stepping out from his tent area, arms
folded. He is leaving plenty of room for her to pass, but he will close any
gap she tries to walk through. She can tell that he’s at the ready. So she
plays into it. She pretends to try to walk by so he can reach out to stop
her. She was going to insult his status, and demand to speak with the
leader, but his hand lands right upon her breast. Now she has to take him
down without warning. She twists his wandering thumb, and then his wrist,
and once he’s good and in pain, she pushes him the rest of the way down to
his back. He’s big enough where she cannot remain standing, so she literally
rolls with it, right over him, so she can let go and stand back up on his
other side. No one moves to stop her.
As she is trying to pivot to hit him while he’s down, he grasps her ankle.
She doesn’t like that, so she pulls out her knife and slashes him on the
inside of his elbow. That makes him let go. She slams the handle against his
eye socket, and slashes his cheek, but very shallowly. It shouldn’t leave a
scar if he’s careful with it. “Try anything, and I’ll go deeper next time.”
She moves her blade over to his manhood. “Or maybe I’ll just make a clean
cut. How does that sound?”
The man shakes his head as he’s holding pressure against his injuries.
“Does anyone volunteer to fight for this man’s honor!” she cries. The crowd
still doesn’t move. Isavet places the tip of her dagger against the palm of
her hand. She digs in and twists back and forth a few times. Once her blood
has pooled, she reaches down, and squeezes it around the wound on her
victim’s arm. “Now we are bonded for life.” She pulls as hard as she can to
help him back up to his feet. “What is your name?”
“Hamarr,” he answers, “son of Stein.”
“I don’t want to join your clan, Hamarr, but I do want someone to teach me.
I took you down with hardly any experience at all. Imagine what I could do
with a little training. While I’m with you, I will fight by your side, but
when I’m ready to go, I go.”
“That is not my decision.” Hamarr points to the man who looked at her funny.
The apparent leader walks up with what Isavet’s mother once called
swagger. He holds his hand out towards her. “Welcome to my camp. My
name is Caleb. I’m from a planet called Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. Ever heard
of it?”
