The Soul Thief

Chapter 22

It wasn't until the following morning I really understood the depth of the fear from my classmates. Weapons handling class sounded intriguing, but as Nancy and Enzo flanked me on either side and most of the rest of the class huddled on the other side of the room, I regretted not skipping it.

"Ignore them. Once they understand what's going on, no one is going to be blaming you." Nancy whispered, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze.

Before I could reply, a man marched in who looked the exact opposite of what I expected a weapons teacher to. Only a little taller than me and so slim it looked like a stiff breeze could take him out.

Salt and pepper greying hair was closely shaven to his head and matching grey eyes assessed us all quickly.

"Welcome to weapons handling, one of the mandatory classes here at Wyld Academy. My name is Quinn and I'll be leading this class."

Someone in the crowd laughed and Quinn zeroed in on them and raised a brow. "Ah, Mr Poysner, I taught your brother a few years back. He too soon regretted judging a book by its cover."

The nervous titters and whispers whipped through the crowd and it was somewhat nice to see someone else unnerving people as much as I apparently did.

He marched to stand in the centre of a large green mat and leaned on a box there. "Working with weapons here requires discipline, skill and dedication. If you're not willing to give that, then I may as well fail you now. Each of these weapons," he gestured to the wall behind him, which was adorned with more munitions than I had ever seen. Some I recognised, and others were totally alien to me.

I tuned back into his conversation as he flipped open the lid to the box he was leaning on. "A weapon should become an extension of your body, but first you'll learn how to handle one safely, and that's where these come in."

He held up what looked like a wooden toy sword that kids played with. As I leaned forwards with everyone else for a better look, I realised that it was, in fact, exactly what it looked like.

"How are we supposed to learn to defend ourselves against danger with a stick?" a student called out.

Quinn smiled slowly, "I'm so glad you asked. I assume you are volunteering to help me demonstrate?"

The sea of students parted and allowed the boy to move to the front, where he shuffled onto the mat, already looking like he regretted saying something.

"Pick a weapon off the wall." Quinn said patiently as he swung the wooden sword he was holding loosely in his hand.

The boy looked uncertain for a moment, before selecting an intimidatingly large sword. It dropped to the floor with a thunk and it took him two attempts to even lift it.

"Perhaps something a little lighter for you?" Quinn suggested patiently. "Remember, swords are just aggressive knives. Anything sharp enough can kill if you know how to use it."

I snorted a little at that. "And what? And guns are enthusiastic hole punches?" I muttered, half under my breath and making Nancy giggle.

Quinn's eagle eyes landed on us and pinned us with his gaze until we fell silent again. The boy picked a smaller blade. Although it was still the length of my forearm and looked wicked sharp, even from this distance.

"Take your place opposite me. Class, please count us in for three." Quinn said calmly.

We dutifully counted down and in a quick movement, the boy was disarmed and on his back on the floor, the tip of the wooden sword at his throat.