Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Thirty Nine: Echoes

"Are you trying, boy, or are you doing this to piss me off?"

Jordan scowled up at Yddris from his vantage point on the floor. Outside the storm howled on, and cold air drifted through the gaps in the floorboards. It had returned with a viciousness that Jordan was certain would have stymied even Hap's best efforts at hard training, so he and Yddris were practising on the small veranda that backed out onto Thirris's garden. Fortunately the rain was driving almost horizontally away from them, so they'd mostly stayed dry, though it was hard to hear each other over the winds that ripped through the treetops. Needless to say that up until that session, it had been another few days passed behind Thirris's firmly closed doors.

The old Unspoken ambled out to join them as Jordan struggled to his feet, bearing a tray with three steaming cups on it. "Don't be too hard on him, Yddris. He's been ill, remember?"

Jordan glowered defiantly at his tutor as he took his tea with muttered thanks, but Yddris seemed utterly unfazed. "He's behind. Very behind. Not his fault, but that's no reason not to make the most of the time here."

Jordan's scowl deepened. He had suspected he was behind, but it was one thing suspecting it and another being told by the man who taught him.

"That may be, but I don't see why you had to start with physical training." Thirris settled on the small, rickety bench near the back door, and Jordan's neck warmed to think he was going to have an audience. His poor performance was embarrassing enough when it was just him and Yddris.

"You're starting to sound like Nika," Yddris growled. "Night take me, no one trusts my fucking judgement anymore."

They finished their tea in a silence that reined despite the chaos of the forest outside. Before long, Jordan had Yddris's fists flying at him again, and he was blocking just in time if he managed it at all. He never managed to drive an attack of his own.

It wasn't because he hadn't had much physical training – god knew he'd had plenty – but he hadn't gone unarmed against Yddris since signing with the Devils. They'd sparred in the attic, and run through endless exercises to improve Jordan's self-control over his magic's response to emotions, and done patrol routes so long they turned his legs to jelly, but unarmed had been Usk's domain. Every time Yddris's fist or foot came at him from the semi-darkness he saw only Usk's leering grin in Arlen's rooms, felt the grind of broken glass under his heel and smelled the stale sweat and grime of the man who lived there. Usk's approach had been to harry him until he was forced to fight back just as viciously. Yddris's approach clearly required a control that Jordan wasn't sure he had. His first instinct was to block, fear running through his veins like ice, expecting something heavy to collide with his skull at any moment.

"You've not tried to hit me once," Yddris said. Jordan glanced up from his half-cowering stance to find his tutor simply standing there, watching him with his head cocked. "You at least tried when we were first starting out. What's going on, boy?"

"Rusty," Jordan muttered, straightening out and bracing himself. "Come on, I can try harder."

Yddris shook his head. "I don't think you're ready for this today."

Jordan was suddenly angry. "I said I'm just rusty. One more time."

Clearly still doubtful, Yddris sank back into a starting pose. This time, Jordan told himself, he was going to be on the offence from the start. He was not going to direct the punches that were thrown where it hurt least, not going to end up on the floor to have his fingers trodden on, not going to have his head bashed against the wall....

The air left his lungs as he hit the veranda floor with a thud. He blinked, the haze clearing from his thoughts like sun breaking through clouds. Yddris was leaning over him, his knee grinding painfully into one of Jordan's thighs and his hands pinning Jordan's wrists to the decking. Something spattered on the floor beside Jordan's head. He turned to look, and was alarmed to find it was blood. Past Yddris's shoulder, Thirris was on his feet.