The Debut of the Hero: Part One

Samara breathed in slowly. Fall was giving way to winter. Frost had settled onto the ground earlier in the morning. It felt sharp in her lungs.

Good, she thought.

The crowd had gathered in the training yard. Each window was packed with onlookers. The king and princess sat on the platform with her family.

Riktar stood across from her.

“Five minutes. First to be knocked out, incapacitated or forced to concede wins. At the end of the allotted time, I shall decide the winner,” the king called out.

Mira sat next to Hunter. Her dress was ornate, covered in bits of fur to keep her warm. Hunter was dressed far simpler, as was the rest of his family.

“All these weeks and there are some things you people refuse to change,” Mira said, not looking at Hunter.

“Not everything stays the same, princess,” Hunter said with a slight smile. He looked to his mother, dressed as a knight, an ordinary sword in her hand as Mutterklinge waited to the side.

“BEGIN!”

Riktar was the first to charge. Samara had been prepared for it, having spent weeks with the man. A high sword attack first. Easily blocked.

“Sed's stance. I thought she would go for either his or Hollianna’s,” Hunter said.

“You finally acquiesce to my point about the hips?” Mira asked.

“Like hell, you royal pain in the ass.”

Samara suffered through a withering series of strikes, blocking each one before switching to a new fighting stance. Haruminus and his gentle form of combat had been a focal point of their training.

“You’re not a warrior, mom! You’re a peace maker! A nurture! A defender!” Hunter had shouted as he performed the moves he had memorized from his books during her training. His mother followed his example, copying them the best she could.

“Lighter. Haruminus was a diplomat as well as a fighter. Each strike was a request for the opponent to give up. Remember as you move,” Mira said, adjusting her stance and encouraging her as she practiced.

“There are so many people to know and moves to learn! Sed, Grommal, Lirian, Aquillar…my mother once tried to get me into dance! This is ten times worse!” Samara lamented.

“It’s okay, mom. Nobody expects you to be an expert overnight,” Hunter said.

“Actually, we do expect her to be an expert overnight,” Riktar grumbled from the chair he was sitting on. He casually pulled out a knife and threw it at Samara’s head. With a swift motion her foot raised and kicked it from the air.

“Haruminus?” Samara said hesitantly.

“You’re learning!” Mira said, smiling and giving her a thumbs up.

The thumbs up was absent as she watched the fight.

“Dodge!” Mira screamed at Samara. The woman ducked to the side, rolling away as Riktar chopped at the air her neck had been moments before.

“He looks like he’s actually trying to kill her!” Rose shouted, leaping to her feet.

“They wouldn’t allow the hero to be killed…” Alec said, leaning forward, glasses slipping down his nose.

Lily’s eyes moved between her mother and the man attacking her, memorizing each detail. She always approached important moments like an artist, saving it for future art.

Daisy said nothing.

It was incredibly unusual for her.

“Fight. Win.” Violet repeated it over and over, the same way she did during an intense strike ball match which Rose played in.

Hunter didn’t know if she fully understood what was happening.

Probably for the best, he thought.

“She needs her own moves,” Hunter said, softly enough for only Mira to hear him. “We spent our time with her getting her up to speed on moves we knew. We showed her the steps, the strikes, but Riktar made her actually use them.”

“Which means he knows her entire arsenal. She isn’t a fighter. She can’t improvise,” Mira said.

I’m not a fighter, Samara thought as she deflected another sword strike. I can’t improvise!

She knew the moves she was expected to do. Basic moves rookies knew. Signature moves from seven generations of Heroes. Her connection to Mutterklinge helped her adapt, made her learn quickly. But she still wasn’t a fighter. She knew she wasn’t.

I can’t do this.

Riktar struck her knee hard with the flat of his sword. She shrieked in pain and fell to her knees.

Riktar raised his sword.

“Get up!”

Hunter shouted it.

Not the Hunter in the stands.

Eleven year old Hunter to Rose.

“I can’t! I’m not good enough to play!” Rose had yelled. She was a little chubby at ten, but wanted to be stronger and faster like the popular girls. Samara had suggested a sports team, and strike ball had been the obvious choice. But it had been hard for the little girl to adapt.

“If you’re not good enough, then you’re not,” Hunter had said. “But if you don’t try, you don’t know if you’re not good enough! I won’t let anything stop me from being a knight after all!”

“You’re too scrawny to be a knight,” Rose had said, standing back up.

“And you’re too stubborn to stay down. Come on, where’s the annoying brat who once beat me in a dragon fire wing eating contest?”

“I kinda cheated then. I coated my tongue in yogurt. I could barely taste them.”

“See? You didn’t cheat! You thought outside the box! You simply needed…”

“…the right motivation…”

Samara stopped Riktar’s sword with hers.

On the sidelines, Mutterklinge started to glow as its owner began to rise.

Look at the situation. See each one as a problem to solve. Alec’s words echoed through her head as she dodged Riktar again. This time, however, she was watching him closely. She knew he was seeing right through her. Maybe, her husband’s voice rang out as she remembered his old late night talks about work, a problem is actually its own solution.

“Look. She’s moving different,” Mira said, leaning forward.

“No, more confidently. Same moves. Still…” Hunter watched his mom mimic the moves he taught her.

Violet’s voice spiked in her head.

SURPRISE!

Riktar struck. Instead of dodging, Samara leaned into the strike. He barely missed slicing into her as she smashed her shoulder into his chest.

Be wild like an animal!

Samara began imitating Daisy, peppering Riktar up close with punches, her rapid fire attack disorienting him. He finally took advantage of a brief opening and cracked her in the jaw. She spun, but took something with her.

An artist needs her tools to create a masterpiece.

“How did you…give me back my sword, woman!” Riktar bellowed.

“Come and get it!” Samara shouted back.

He roared.

His feet moved.

Strike ball is simple, when you think about it. Rose said those words after her first championship. In order to make a goal, you need to make the opponent think you’re not going to do what you want to. Make them block, run, fight…

Samara leapt into the air, her Hero powered legs propelling her up. Her arm snapped back and threw Riktar’s sword. It missed him and dug into the dirt behind him.

His head turned.

It was all Samara needed.

…and then score when they’re looking at the wrong person.

Her leg crushed the air from his lungs. She drove him to the ground, landing on him and crouching down.

You need your own move, mom.

Hunter had said those words recently.

She had never wanted a move.

What would you have made your move?

An innocent question back then.

Never thought of it. Something to make people see me. Not in a vain way. Like…like I can show them they can be strong too.

She grabbed Riktar’s shoulders, rolled forward, and kicked him into the air with both legs while laying on her back. He seemed to float for a moment, and as she leapt at him again, she could swear he smiled.

She grabbed him.

Crushed him.

And drove him into the ground.

The courtyard was silent as the frost covered ground shuddered.

“Get…get off of me, you sweaty bitch. I yield.”

The yard exploded.

Her family rushed her, hugging her and shouting congratulations. She barely heard them. Samara couldn’t believe what she had done.

“Acrobatic wrestling. Never would have pegged it as your specialty,” Mira said as she walked over with her father.

“I…you know…thought of my family. Something showy. Loud. And mine. Like a…”

“Don’t say mother’s embrace. Your first special move can’t be named something so cringe inducing,” Hunter moaned.

“We’ll workshop it,” Samara said, hugging him. “Thank you for teaching me, Hunter.”

“Any time, mom.”

“Congrats, Samara,” Riktar said, cracking his neck. “I don’t think you’ll die. You’ve got my approval to be…”

“A Hero.”

Mutterklinge flew to her hand. It suddenly felt right there.

“Now comes the hard part,” Samara said.

“Bring it on,” Hunter said, smiling.