Role

Chapter 12

"Well pick it up, girl!" chortled the proprieter. Startled into action she whipped a hand
out and lifted it... and almost dropped it. "Easy now, Wrukesht, easy, it's not a toy,"
cautioned Jaragh. "You have to respect it and its power. Because weapons do have
power. You may wield it, and it may be a tool, but it is nothing like any other tool.
This is made to hurt. Perhaps to kill. And you must keep that in mind at all times."
Nodding sagely, both men looked down at Wrukesht, ensuring she understood.

The next moments are a blur for Wrukesht. She was shown how sharp the edges were, given
her own whetstone and other items for proper keeping of her new dagger, taught how to
use them, and all the little things someone who had never owned or used a dagger would
need to know. Before she even knew it, she and Jaragh were back on their horses and
heading back to Balator. The rhythm of the horse, and the heat of Jaragh's back combined
to put Wrukesht to sleep. But then she woke, not knowing what was happening, only that
she was on the ground and the Old Man was standing in front of her, his sword out, two
men brandishing their own weapons at him. The horse, she saw, was dead, an arrow in its
neck. Then she realized just how much her head hurt. Ouch!

"Put the sword down, grandpa, give us your gold and things, and we'll let you and your
granddaughter go. You've got no chance here and if you don't do what we say, we'll kill
you and sell this one to the slavers at the Hamsah docks!" Wrukesht was aghast, but she
also was muddled from the fall. Where normally would be terror and good sense, now all
she felt was anger. Anger that these men were ruining the holiday. Anger that these men
threatened her with slavery. And perhaps most of all, anger that they might harm the Old
Man, just when he gave her the most wonderful and powerful gift of her life! Without
thinking (obviously), she stood and pulled out her shiny new dagger. Before Jaragh could
step in front of her, she darted around him and reached out to stab one of them.

Surprise more than anything kept her alive in that moment. Her completely unexpected
action caught all three men unawares and so her dagger actually did nick one of the men.
Nothing serious, barely a prick, but still. Enraged, they charged after her, ready to
forgo slavery for the pleasure of watching her die.

Of course they had no idea they faced a Knight. And not just any Knight, but famed Jaragh.
Even at his advanced age he was beyond skilled. He had forgotten more than these two, their
parents, and their grandparents would ever or had ever known. What he lost in speed he made
up with savvy anticipation of moves he had seen when Cador walked the lands.