I relax in the moon's light, feeling the wolf yawn as he climbs to the surface, closer to the fullness of the coming Harvest Moon.

We're back in the little tavern room with the window and backdoor leading to the forest. It almost feels like a second beginning from the first night I was here, many days past.

"What's your full name, Tim?" I ask, leaning back in my chair and needing a brain-break from the plans.

He grunts from where he's poring over maps of the terrain.

He flicks his hazel eyes to meet mine. "Not many be knowing of the importance of the Kul'Thum name."

I nod. "Not many indeed, but I do." I reply in the expected response.

He smiles gently, and his eyes soften as he looks at some distant memory. "It be many years since someone ask me this. I hope I be getting the story right in this language." He clears his throat. "There once be a small lad, tinier than his foes. They knock this little lad to the ground, but Little Lad always get back up. The Father saw this determination in Little Lad and blessed him with a name. Grandultimul. Meaning Titan with Spirit.

Other lads laughed, speaking of how small this lad be. How could he grow to be a titan?

But one day, a foe of Little Lad be trying to knock the lad to the ground, only to realize Little Lad wasn't so little anymore.

After foe fell to Little Lad's fist, Little Lad was destined never to be knocked down by higher men again.

Little Lad had learned how it felt to be knocked down, and thus he swore to help others who were smaller than he."

I clap, slow and steady, joining the others cheering around me. Jace lets out a loud 'whoop' that has the others grinning.

Tim's cheeks grow red, but he smiles bashfully, nodding at our praise.

"Why, Tim, didn't realize you had that many words in ya!" Morgana says, smiling at the large fellow.

He rubs the back of his neck. "Once, it were a practice among my people to tell the Naming Story. But when Isle Jul'Tum fell... we were separated. No one understood our names. So we shortened them and over time be forgetting our Namings." He looks at me with tears in his eyes. "Thank you kindly, Roland. You be bringing back my heritage and my soul."

I nod, happy I could do this for the kind, quiet man who saved my life.

"Roland is a fine little lad." The others around the table stare at Jace. "What? I thought it fit."

David shakes his head and sighs. "No wonder the two are best friends. One doesn't talk. The other doesn't know when to be quiet."

The whole table chuckles.

Heather looks back at the map. "Da, what about here?" She asks, bringing the attention back to the reason we have gathered.

I look at the road she points to.

It may just work.

The problem these folks are having is they are waging a war they are not prepared to win. No one goes up against the Empire. No one... except the mages who can't leave their homeland without losing some of their Gifts. So an uneasy truce between the mages and the Empire has held for many years, even if the two leaders hate each other's guts.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

What these folks need is a miracle.

But until the Allfather sees fit to grant them one, I have a few ideas to buy them time.

They are building a moat around the city. Some have questioned where the water is coming from.

David just grins and tells the folk to keep digging.

Then there will be the road ambushes. Videlia is blessed to be surrounded by forest with thick coverage and deep undergrowth, which is all the harder for an army to battle through and provides a way for these people to fight on their own terms.

I have given tactics; David has put in his two cents (that man knows his way around a war. I wonder once more exactly who this man is); and we have the bare bones of a plan that will help buy time for the woman, children, and elderly to escape when the jingoist come.

~~~

The following day, I take Tim and Jace aside to run them through lessons that will enhance their battle skill. I also teach them privately how to work the beginners through the forms and later implement those forms into the sword.

Their amazement when I show the same form barehanded, with sword, and later staff made their eyes pop.

It was a highlight of my afternoon.

Five days in, and I think it's time. I pair up with one of the most promising recruits.

“Clovis, you’ve done well. I wish you to understand now why I had you doing things as I have.” I say.

His bald head glistens in the sunlight. His leathery skin makes him look much older than the forty years I know him to be. Grey eyes narrow at me as arms round as a small tree crosses over his chest.

“Are ya goin’ ta teach me a lesson like ya did ‘ol Bob?”

I cock my head. “A lesson, yes. The same lesson, no. Are you willing?”

His eyes narrow further before he shrugs burly shoulders that are strengthened from long days hammering on metal. Then he shrugs, uncrossing his arms. “Why not?”

I like this guy, which is the reason I chose him first. “Then come, choose your weapon.”

I watch closely as he carefully looks over the few blunted weapons I’ve dug up. He eventually steps away with a grunt.

He faces me without a single one.

“Why?” I am bewildered. Again.

These folks go against everything I thought of humanity. A voice whispers that perhaps this is what humanity is supposed to be.

“You’ve been teachin’ me bare hand. Why not give it a shot?”

I give him a rare smile. I nod to him, then spread my hands and bring them to my heart in a show of respect. I shift onto the balls of my feet. “Attack.”

He needs no further prompt.

He attacks, slowly and with little confidence in the movement.

I swipe his hand out of the way and counterattack with a soft tap on his temple.

“Follow your instincts. Use what I’ve taught and let it embolden what is already there.”

He nods, his eyes cataloging me with intelligence that would be frightening in a better trained man. He throws a temple strike, a knife hand, and then catches me in the gut with a kick as I fend off the top two.

He gasps as the blow lands, as if surprised that actually worked.

I chuckle even as I rub my bruised ribs, still smarting from almost a week past.

I draw my hands to my chest with that same respect; he does the same with a dumbstruck expression that stays as I wave him into the circle gathered around us.

“What I just did was show how someone is going to react to the form I have taught, but also how you can react and overcome, even with someone stronger than you. Use your mind, use your training, and be flexible with what comes. To react in battle is the number one goal. There is no thought. There is no time in the moments between life and death for choosing which action will save your life. Only habit, skill, instinct, the brothers and sisters at your side, and your heart to live will matter when faced with true battle, as a few of you already well know.” A few men who were hurt in the battle for Shasta nod ruefully and rub lingering pains.

Thoughtful eyes follow me, and even some soldiers who were skeptical now give me looks of surprise tinged with respect. David nods along with my words.

“Now, go through drills four and five.”

They return to the drills with renewed vigor. I hope against hope this will save their lives.

Tim and Jace come to me and we begin what I’ve done every day so far. I teach them further along. I teach them the why and the how behind what makes these forms work. We also go over strategies with David and General Brackenridge on how to protect the town in a siege and the best defenses. I hope when I’m gone they will continue to teach and perhaps it will make a difference when the time comes.