Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) by Klay Testamark Page B

ship, and finish the fight with an axe. He would then pillage a now-defenceless coastal village, subdue the women, and carry off anything of value. A Northlander pentathlon thus had five events: javelin, long jump, axe fencing, submission wrestling, and running with a woman over your shoulder.

    It was popular, or so Heronimo told me. He was always trying to get one started and was completely mystified as to why it hadn’t caught on. A capran duel, meanwhile, had three events: mounted archery, jousting, and fencing.
     
    Vitus: “You get three arrows, three hats, and three passes. Do your best to knock your opponent’s hat off. You’ll be using blunt arrows and wearing a helmet underneath, so no worries.”
     
    Grahothy: “Next you get three passes with a lance. This is still a contest of skill, not a mortal combat, so the lances are designed to break easily. You can get hurt, but not so much that it kills you. And you can yield at any time, though you lose your case.”
     
    Vitus again: “The third event starts on horseback. You tilt at each other with proper lances, then dismount to fight as infantry, with sword and dagger. You can still surrender, but there’s no guarantee your opponent will let you live.”
     
    “Hafgan doesn’t strike me as the merciful type,” I said. “What’s the point of all this training?”
     
    “Don’t underestimate yourself, Prince Angrod,” Grahothy said. “Any opponent can be defeated if you are determined and lucky.”
     
    “A boatload of training doesn’t hurt either,” Vitus said. “I know elves pride themselves in their martial prowess. I’ll wager you already have most of the skills you need.”
     
    “I got some practice from hunting wyverns. I can handle a lance or sword. I can shoot from horseback, but not well.”
     
    “Still makes our job easier. We won’t be teaching you anything new, just refining what you already know.”
     
    “Hah!” Grahothy said. “Vitus is trying not to discourage you, but they don’t call him One More because of his bar tab.”
     
    Vitus scowled. “They call me that because I’m the best trainer in the kingdom. I may not be able to teach you anything new, but I will definitely put you through the toughest workouts of your life.”
     
    Gulp.
     
    “You may faint. You may vomit. But when I’m done with you, real combat will seem like the easiest thing in the world. And to make it really fun, you’ll keep that ring on at all times. No magic. No shortcuts!”
     
    Another gulp. And now I had a headache.
     
     

    I hated every minute of my training. First I had to wake up at a hideous hour. To facilitate this, Vitus showed up personally with a gong. “Wake up, elf!” he’d say. Crash! Bang!
     
    “Aaaaugh!” was my usual response.

    After I got my heart rate down, I would then have a decent breakfast in bed, as was my habit back home. Of course, in Brandish I slept late and often awoke when everyone had finished lunch. Here in the Silver World I ate breakfast in bed because I was often too sore to get up right away.
     
    There followed a blissful hour of nothing much. Back home I’d have opened my feybook and caught up on the news, but being in another dimension made that impossible. And although I could read capran writing, thanks to the ring, Arawn didn’t have much of a library. Which made sense. It was a hunting lodge and weekend retreat, not a working palace.
     
    I asked my coach if he had any reading material and he said, “Of course! Fight books!”
     
    He brought several martial arts manuals, each one beautifully illustrated. “The first rule of fight books is: You don’t just look at the pictures. The second rule of fight books is: You don’t just look at the pictures. And the third rule of fight books is: If you fold or stain those pages I will skin you to make replacement covers.”
     
    I’d been wondering about the leather. I let go the one I was holding.
     
    “Yes, they’re bound in the skins