“It’s good not to be in bed.”
Lofty hooted. “And you used to like sleeping in.”
“Only because you dragged me out every night, getting us into trouble.”
Lofty indicated a pair of men, about their fathers’ age, clashing swords, beyond the boys. “There’s Murray and Kieft. Who would’ve known a couple of farmers could fight so well?”
Tomaaz pointed at another pair, the same age. “Or that they couldn’t. An ox could wield a sword better.”
Lofty snorted. “A shame it’s an accurate description.”
Tomaaz had to smile.
“Look, Pa’s back,” Lofty said.
“Hello, everyone.” Ernst held up an arm. “May I have your attention?”
Weary fighters sat on the ground or in the hay at the back of the barn. Someone dropped a sword.
“Sheath your weapons,” Tomaaz called, remembering his first lessons from Ma and Pa as a littling. “You must keep your blade on you.” He stood, handing the pail to one of his new ‘warriors’, so they could pass it around and refresh themselves.
“I visited Hans today,” Ernst announced. “He outlined the next steps in our training. Is there anyone here who’s proficient in throwing knives?”
Lofty raised his palm, and another man did, too.
“Tomaaz will stay here and continue instructing you in swordplay, while Lofty and Francois take the ten of you who are best at knifemanship for knife-throwing, but before we get to that, there’s something important I need to tell you.”
Everyone ceased drinking or fidgeting. All eyes were on Ernst.
“Tharuks are vicious. I’ve only seen a few myself and have never had to fight them, but I have seen one gut a man with his tusks in an instant.” Ernst’s hand made a ripping motion over his belly. “Our best defense will be to stay out of their range, hence knife-throwing, spears and archery. If any of you can have a discreet word with an archer and convince them to join us, let me know. But be careful. Klaus has filled most of them with venom.
“In the short time we have, we can’t prepare everything we’d like, but we can put guards around the perimeter of the village to raise the alarm. Those in outlying farms are welcome to bring their families to stay with me or Tomaaz at night for safety. During the day, your families can go back to their fields, but keep horses saddled and ready, or hitched to carts, so you can flee to the village square if you need to.” Ernst took a deep breath. “Now I come to a more difficult task.”
As if everything he’d already said wasn’t difficult enough.
“There are a few types of tharuks. Trackers and mind-benders are most dangerous. Trackers hunt their prey over vast distances by scenting them. You’ll know them from the dark saliva that dribbles along their tusks when they’re hunting. Mind-benders have black eyes, instead of the usual red eyes, and drill into your mind, forcing you to follow their will.”
A chill breeze snaked through the barn, making the sweat on Tomaaz’s forehead prickle.
“Hans said that the secret to overcoming mind-benders is to focus on a memory or an object, pinning it in your mind in great detail. We’ll practice now. Close your eyes, everyone.”
Although it was useless closing his eyes in the middle of battle, Tomaaz shut his anyway.
“In your head, picture someone you love, a place you like to go, your favorite food, or a treasured possession,” Ernst said.
The moment Ernst said someone you love, Lovina’s face shot to mind. Weird, he didn’t love Lovina. He was only helping her because—
A girl’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Surely if we choose someone we love, the mind-bender could use that against us.”
“Good point,” Ernst replied. “Concentrate on an object. See how the light plays on it. Does it have a scent? How does it feel and sound? What are you doing with it?”
Tomaaz switched his thoughts to the trees at the back of the farm, where he, Ezaara, and Lofty had played when they were littlings. It had been Ezaara’s favorite hiding place. Shards, how was she now? His twin’s face filled his thoughts. It was suddenly difficult to swallow. They’d never been separated for more than half a day before all this craziness had happened.
“Hold the image in your mind, while I distract you.”
He was thinking of Ezaara, not the tree. Tomaaz concentrated on the rough bark, the sunlight filtering between the leaves. Ernst bellowed. Tomaaz twitched and the tree was gone.
“Focus,” Ernst called.
He tried again and again, trying to block out Ernst’s loud noises. A girl shrieked. Tomaaz jumped to his feet, sword drawn.
Ernst held his hands above a girl sitting cross-legged on the ground. “It’s all right, everyone. I just tapped her while her eyes were shut.”
Laughter broke the tension.
“Now,” said Ernst, “get back to fighting, but try and fight with the image in your minds, as if your life and loved ones depend on it.”
Ernst took the first group of knife-throwing candidates outside, and Tomaaz stepped up to fight one of the girls, the tree firmly fixed in his head.
§
For a week, Tomaaz’s home had been full of people every evening, all heeding Ernst’s advice. Pa had predicted a tharuk attack within three days of the beacon fire. Disbelievers now had even more reason to jeer at him, but Pa had impressed upon Tomaaz, Ernst and Lofty that it was only a matter of time, so every space inside was spoken for. Tomaaz had given the beds to older couples, and the living area and hallway were full of bedrolls and blankets. Littlings jumped over people’s legs, excited at so many people gathering.
Tomaaz approached Torston, one of the men cooking. “Could I get you more vegetables for that stew?”
Torston gave him a knowing glance. “We don’t need them, son, but
