Shadow Bands

XXV. Nodes

The crisp ringing of thin metals echoed in the stone hallways, each one followed by another. Grunts followed after every other strike. The sound's intensity contrasted the lilac sky that lit an open sparring arena. Its domed roof was being held by a series of pillars that created arches.

Lyra was holding her own against Kaelen. Her footwork matched his, but hers was faster, sacrificing strength for speed. Kaelen did his best to avoid her strikes, but she kept closing the distance. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he deflected her attack. Lyra's eyes burned with her newfound passion. Each strike was a fixed error of past spars with Kaelen and other knights.

Kaelen planted his foot, holding one of her strikes. Their bodies were close; he could feel the heat emanate from her. Lyra dipped towards the ground; one hand held her sword while the other drove her momentum into Kaelen's rib cage, curling his body. The smile disappeared from Kaelen's face as Lyra got serious. He jumped back and retook his stance.

"Someone's getting cocky," he said, his chest heaving. "It's not always a bad thing. Just don't let it get to your head!"

Kaelen charged forward with another leap, his sword in a readable arch. Something Lyra has seen a hundred times at this point. She almost chuckled when his body spun to where his body was parallel to the ground. Lyra raised her sword to block his strike, but the power of the collision broke her blade. Without missing a beat, she threw both pieces of her shattered blade at Kaelen. He dodged the first piece and deflected the other. Lyra closed the gap again, watching his arm raise with his sword. She met it with hers, grabbing his arm just under the elbow. Before he could grapple her, she had already maneuvered behind him, her feet kicking up from the ground. One leg wrapped around his neck from the shoulder while the other leg wrapped him from under the armpit. She quickly curled her body forward, transferring her energy to slam Kaelen into the ground, pinning him into an armbar.

But this didn't deter him from teaching her a lesson.

His body twisted, feeling his blood being trapped in his head. Lyra now faced down towards the ground, but her form was unrelenting. He dropped his sword to have the full contraction of his arm. His knees curled towards his chest, and with all his might, he lifted himself and her off the ground. Lyra felt her chances slimming as he stood, releasing her hold on to his arm. She disappeared for a moment from his sight. Then a sudden force knocked him off his feet, allowing Lyra to mount him. Her hands pinned his shoulders to the ground, and her face was now inches away from his. She panted from the exertion of their training, her breath warm against his. Their eyes locked—her eyes studying his honey-filled irises while he got lost in her evergreen gaze—their hearts fluttered just for a moment before Lyra cleared her throat.

"I guess I'm the winner," she said, getting up from on top of him. "Maybe you should turn into a werewolf so you can beat me," she tried joking. She hurried to turn to hide the flushing of her cheeks.

"Well, you're getting good!" he choked out. "At fighting, you're doing. . . a great job of remembering everything."

The room fell silent, allowing a gust of wind to howl through the room.

"The tournament's only two days away," she said, her words echoing through the room. "I still gotta fight Helen before you get to complete your goal of helping me reach the top."

"I told you that you could do it," he said, scratching his head and looking around. "You'll have to bring everything you got when you fight her. She's a hell of a fighter with her halberd."

"I'll figure something out," she finally turned around to face him. "I always do."

"If it's one thing you can do, you can think fast on your feet. Use that and your speed, and you'll be unstoppable."