Scene Four. Istislav


    89 hours before the Expedition:


    ?We do a half-swing with the shield upward to meet the enemy, ? the Smith surveyed the band, made sure that the entire formation of students was watching intently, lifted his shield up, balancing it on his elbow. ?We raise the sword together with setting the shield, ? Koloyar, continuing the motion, laid the sword''s blade flat on the edge of the shield. ?We step slightly to the side and forward, continue raising the shield, whether taking a hit or not, it doesn''t matter, the opponent can''t see my sword now, ? speaking and demonstrating simultaneously, the mentor captivated the attention of the younger lads. ?With a gliding strike along the shield''s edge… hit! ? Yelled Koloyar, showcasing the technique while thrusting at an imaginary foe.


    ?To master the technique to perfection! Everyone must! In any condition! Tired or not, it doesn''t matter! Then you''ll win and save everyone, ? the Smith tells the boys, lowering his voice at the end of the phrase and then loudly again. ?Let’s watch it once more! ? slowly, he demonstrates the technique again.


    From around the corner of the forge, two figures emerged. Leading the way was Istislav—a broad-shouldered man with the powerful, steady stride of one who had long walked the paths of war. His curly, russet beard caught the bright, scorching sunlight, trapping its glow in its thick mass, while his sharp eyes, shadowed beneath a furrowed brow, scanned the path ahead with the wary ease of an experienced fighter. Beneath the loose drape of his untucked tunic, muscles shifted with every step, their movements honed by years of wielding steel.


    The trousers were held to one side by a wide scabbard, which swayed under the control of the round tip of the medium sword''s handle, dictating the measured gait. Sturdy leather boots pressed firmly into the well-trodden ground, ready to support his master''s attack at any second.


    Behind him, half-running to keep pace, was Svyatogor—a lanky village youth, barefoot and dressed in a simple linen shirt and trousers. Though his steps were lighter, filled with the restless energy of boyhood, he worked hard to match Istislav’s bearing, squaring his narrow shoulders and setting his jaw in unconscious mimicry. His keen eyes flicked between the warrior’s movements, drinking in every detail, every motion, as if by sheer effort he could absorb some of the man’s hardened strength.


    ?Good day, warriors! ? Istislav addresses the boys in training.


    ?Ohoho, look who''s here! Imshti! ? Koloyar jokingly mispronouncing Istislav''s name as a battle cry, short, as with every true warrior, an abbreviation meant to save strength and time in battle.


    ?Aaa, healthy, Ka! ? Istislav responds and opens his arms wide to the Smith, who had set aside the shield and was sheathing his sword.


    Friends exchange hearty claps and wrap each other in a hug. Istislav, filled with admiration for his older comrade, grips Koloyar firmly and, mustering all his strength, lifts him off the ground. With a grin, he spins them both in a wide arc, his boots digging into the earth as he struggles under the weight. Koloyar doesn’t resist; instead, he leans back slightly, letting Istislav enjoy the moment.


    After a few turns, Istislav sets him down.


    As soon as his feet touch the ground, Koloyar, smiling, pats friend on the shoulder and says intentionally loudly.


    ?Has the noble warrior rusted chasing after his wife? ?


    The boys fall silent, recognizing the familiar mock tone of voice, eagerly awaiting the continuation of the spectacle.


    ?Yeah, a bit, ? whispers Istislav faintly, ?Although…? and after a pause, much louder ?… I have a steel sword, I can take a head off the shoulders,? and suddenly, his expression changing, the warrior challenges the Smith with a look.


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    ?That''s hardly the case, ? Koloyar smiles, with that smile that makes everyone around uneasy.


    ?Check it out. Aaa, Ka?!? Istislav, locking eyes with Koloyar, draws his sword, smiling even more menacingly, taunting his comrade in arms.


    The boys during the end of this sentence went completely quiet, for it was for them that the friends were performing. The entire formation just watched Istislav and the Smith, eagerly hoping to witness, right then and there, a fight between two masters.


    The Smith, seeing the boys’ open mouths, laughed and put a huge hand on his friend''s shoulder.


    ?I won''t check completely, but take a shield in your hands, and let’s show the kids how to circle in pairs. Like this, ? here he paused again and looking at the approaching formation continued with a voice that rings across the clearing, ?So that all fighters remember! Learn and be able to perform the techniques unconsciously. ?


    ?Ratmir,? Koloyar turns, dropping the faux solemnity, to one of the boys standing in the middle of the formation of older kids, ?Go on, bring the practice weapons from the forge.?


    With these words, the Smith takes off his helmet and, in a half-voice, gives orders to the apprentices as he always does.


    ?Gather in a circle,? he says, tracing with his hand the usual spot for a duel.


    ***


    In the middle of the circle, as the Smith''s sparring partner, stands Istislav, changed into his attire—a tall warrior in chainmail covering the entire body, clasping the legs halfway up the thighs, and his face invisible under a solid helmet with a vertical slit for the eyes.


    The Smith and Istislav demonstrate the technique, first slowly, then in rapid succession.


    ?So, boys, watch and memorize, so that you can distinguish the details at combat speed. ?


    The warriors demonstrate the technique slowly once more. Svyatogor is already standing by them and, catching Koloyar’s eye, extends two wooden swords to the warriors. They sheath their combat swords and lay them on the ground. They take positions opposite each other and start circling the field. Imshti, slapping the sword against the shield, Ka, with the sword resting on his shoulder, playfully holds the shield with his other hand and gauges the distance. Istislav strikes hard with the sword directly at the unprotected head. It seemed that the shield fused with the figure of Koloyar, grew in the path of the sword, and, instantly, Ka, leaping to the side, thrusts his arm forward with the weapon, landing a direct blow on the opponent''s helmet.


    A strong muffled thud, the Smith''s practice sword springs back, a crack of wood is heard. Istislav steps back slightly, reacting to the hit in silence. Another droplet of pause, and they and the Smith charge at each other again. Istislav swings again, the Smith lifts the shield, but Istislav isn''t planning to fall for the same move again, and instead of striking from above, he squats down, twirling the sword, directing the strike to the shin, below the shield. But from there, the Smith''s sword flies out, parrying the blow, another crack is heard, and Ka, using the rebound inertia, redirects the weapon to the opponent''s shoulder. The strike hits its mark, but the wooden weapon can’t withstand it and snaps with a crunch.


    Ka leaps aside.


    ?Stop. Enough,? he lowers the broken sword and shield to the ground, straightens up, and continues to look at Istislav, while the Smith''s breathing remains utterly calm, as if there had not been that whirlwind of training, yet unrealistically fast combative battle.


    Imshti slowly bows his head, averting his gaze to acknowledge the superior skill of his comrade, exhaling loudly several times, trying to catch his breath.


    The Smith removes his helmet and turns to the band.


    ?Is everyone clear? Slowly in sequence, alternating with three repetitions and then swap partners. ?


    The boys each turn to face their sparring partner.


    ?The elder pairs start. ?


    Pairs of enthusiastic students begin to talk to each other and practice the techniques.


    The Smith approaches his recent opponent.


    ?Excellent form, buddy, to be honest, I didn''t think I''d get you a couple of times…?


    ?In battle, even one blow is enough to be the end, ? Istislav also removes his helmet and looks at Koloyar.


    ?Well, don''t worry; it was a good lesson that benefited the lads. Look at how you twirled the sword from below; it was just the thing, and we displayed the technique fully, from above and below. No accidents occurred, and the boys will be ready for both. ?


    ?Yes, to be like you. Water off a duck''s back with you, Koloyar, whether from above or the side, ? Istislav twirls the helmet in his hands, looks at the dent in it, and continues, ?Well, it turned out okay, but my cap got dented. ?


    ?There''s a bit. I''ll fix it now and make it better than new. ?


    But at this point, Istislav protests, quickly interrupting his friend.


    ?No, I can hammer it out myself; let me help with your boys'' chain mail. They can apprentice under me again, ? Istislav suggests, ?at the same time, I''ll train up some speed in my shoulders, I am indeed a bit out of shape.?


    The Smith with the fighters remains on the training field, Istislav heads to the forge.