The Witch's Relay

Chapter 48: Fifty-Three

"Of course I didn't have to. But don't you think it's a bit more realistic this way?" Heather gives me an evil smirk.

"There's no denying it, but I don't happen to be masochistic enough to appreciate a stab through the gut." I also can't help but realize the potential advantage with such a training style though. If I can overcome the fear of death during training, then when it comes to a real fight I will be way more prepared.

"I am sure you realize the benefits though." Heather switches to a triumphant grin.

"Yea yea, so if I get stabbed you can heal me, but what would happen if I stab you? It's not like I can heal you." I cross my arms. It's not quite realistic If I'm gonna have to hold back. Then again, it's not like I have actually succeeded in landing a blow in the first place.

"Hmm.. I suppose. But it's not like you can anyway." She replies to me almost as if she read my mind.

"Don't you even have the slightest worry in your mind that I might be able to beat you?" I look at her with a dead look in my eyes.

"Nope. Not even a bit. You're too slow."

"Slow? I almost had you!" If I only reacted slightly faster, I would have deflected her dagger, and once she was down.. Yea at that point she'd pretty much lost? You can't fight someone standing while you yourself are lying on the ground? Regardless of how skilled you are?

"You had already deflected with your main weapon, and your secondary was too far away. You simply didn't have time. I created an opening and took it. You couldn't do anything about me." Master wipes my blood off her knife before sheathing it.

She then stares straight into my eyes without the smallest hint of humor. "There are no "what ifs" on the battlefield. Only things that happen and things that don't. Luck doesn't exist and neither do second chances. You get "lucky" when opportunity and action converge, and you only get your second chance if you took action when there was an opportunity, and thus survive long enough to get another shot." She then reaches forward and flicks my forehead, breaking our eye contact. "You understand?"

"Yes I understand." I step back and rub my forehead. Her somewhat-long nails definitely scratch when she does that. Glancing at her sword I once again wonder how she can wield a weapon without cutting them. Isn't that uncomfortable?

"Good." She grins. "Then let's go again. Just don't get stabbed again. Or slashed, I guarantee that the sword will hurt more than that tiny knife I just used. And also.." She winks maliciously. "Not even I can heal a stab through the heart if it's too messy."

"Heh?" I hesitate to pick back up my sword.

"Don't worry." Heather laughs at my reaction. "I may be a witch. But I won't let you die after all the work I put into you."

"You'd better not." I mutter, at which she once again chuckles.

...

The spar once again ends in my defeat as I crash to the ground, just narrowly avoiding Master's blade. Thankfully she doesn't resort to drawing blood, but instead just holds the tip of her sword to my face.

"That was well done in dodging, although cowardly I might add. If I were to follow up, killing you would be trivially easy."

I could care less about my image as long as I can keep that steel out of my body. "Someone once told me that playing dirty is fair game, is being inelegant also?"

"Everything is fair game, but in a real fight you would have better luck with just taking the hit and hoping for the best rather than crashing to the ground. At least if you are alone. If you have a party then it is a whole different set of rules. In a party you should do what you just did and trust that your partners will pick up your slack." She sheathes her blade and does a barely noticeable bow, a gesture that I only just notice, but thinking back I realize that that's a common habit of hers.

Come to think of it, how old is Heather? By just looking at her I would guess early thirties or late twenties, although her preserved beauty is easily that of several years younger than I guess. I do, however, happen to know that her master was from the time before the witch hunts, and studied at a magic school, which was about a hundred-and-fifty years ago. Just assuming that the witch hunt started rather early in his studies, he might have been nearly twenty at the time, and if he met Heather after another sixty years..

No. That doesn't quite sound right.

I must have been doing a very intense thinking expression, because Heather tilts her head at me questioningly.

Now let's say that her master lived extraordinarily long. If her master lived a total of a-hundred-and-twenty years, then he could have met Heather when he was a-hundred-and-fifteen. But she would have to be a little grown-up before meeting him.. so what if I say that she met him when she was fifteen? Then they would have met almost seventy years ago?..

I turn to look at Heather, trying to answer my question. Somehow this is hurting my brain. What are the factors I haven't taken into consideration?

"What is it that you are thinking about while looking at me so intensely?" She crosses her arms and smiles amused.

Her speaking nearly makes me jump as I am drawn out of my thoughts.

"Ehm.. Nothing much. Just a couple random thoughts." I try to explain myself as I get a bit of cold-sweat.

"That did not just look like a couple random thoughts." She leans in and stares into my eyes and I turn away uncomfortable.

Heather laughs and claps her hands together. "Oh my! Now I really am interested, it's about me isn't it? Something you would rather not ask but can't help but think about? Is that about it?" She takes a step forward and grabs my chin, and gently she forces me to look at her.

"I.." Okay.. whatever.. I guess asking can't hurt.. "How old are you?" I immediately feel like blushing and pull my head away from her hand to stare into the ground.

Once again Heather's clear laughter rings through the air. "I really wondered how long it would take you to mention that. Your mental timeline really doesn't match up does it? After all, I am quite the beauty." Just to tease me and to drive home her point, Heather flicks her long hair off her shoulder.

"Yea.. Something like that.." I continue to avoid eye contact."

"Shouldn't you know not to ask a lady of her age?" Heather grins, intent on breaking me.

"Well yea! Why'd you think I was hesitant!?" I look back up at her amused eyes.

After a couple moments however, she thankfully decides to release me from my misery.

"Fifty-three."

"I'm sorry, what!?"