Fated (On Hold)

Chapter 18 - Dust

After a lengthy exchange of insults and sarcastic comments, Tanera finally convinced Kame that there was no way in all hells she would change out of the yellow dress - it was the most beautiful thing she had worn since the day of The Choosing, and, considering it's simplicity, that was really saying something for Tanera. The swathes of yellow fabric twirling at her feet did more than just look pretty however. It emulated the power of Old Esereen, which had chosen to reveal itself when she needed it the most. The dress stood for defiance, and Tanera could sense the Kame knew it.

"So." Kame shot her a lazy half grin. "Let's begin."

The silence that followed was mind numbingly awkward, but Tanera had no idea how to respond. They were nothing but two tiny specks in the middle of the vast expanse of the training field. Nothing but a girl and a demon with powers that threatened to cripple the world and all those in it. Although, ever since the events of the Millennium Ball, doubt had been eating away at Tanera. She had full confidence the Kame's black magic was as strong as ever; it was her own elusive light that sent shivers creeping like icy fingers down her spine. What if it was an anomaly? A once in a life time outbreak that would never show itself again, this ultimately resulting in the death of not only her but Toll, Yora and the other tiny multitude of people she held dear in Vaswayde. No. The blood of the deities runs in my veins. I am light and I am power and I will not let a demon stand in my way.

Tanera plastered on a smile that she hoped appeared confident. "Let's."

The morning started not with learning to use her power as Tanera had envisioned, but rather with running. A sickening amount of running. Kame stood, still smirking, watching as Tanera ran laps - from one end of the training field to the other. The bastard was making her pay for being too stubborn to change, that much was obvious. After only three, her legs were aching and she collapsed in a heap of exhaustion at his feet. Gods, the only reason she could do this many was the endless summer days she had spent being chased by Toll around their gardens in the Green Lands. 

The general continued to push her all morning, forcing her to do exercises she never before would have even contemplated. When the afternoon sun began to grace the shadowy land, Tanera cursed the Gods for allowing press-ups to quite simply exist.

Eventually they stopped and Kame threw an apple and a flask of crisp, cool water at Tanera, with the simple order to prepare for 'combat', whatever that would entail. Tanera didn't much feel like becoming a human punching bag. The apple turned to ash in her mouth when multiple grey-tunic-wearing slaves she had never before encountered wheeled copious wooden racks onto the field. Each rack was laden with gleaming silver of various sharp points. Arrows and polished ebony bows. Daggers adorned with sparkling jewels. Spiked maces and cutlasses finished with jagged, cerated edges. There were even an assortment of lances and throwing spears, vaguely reminding Tanera of the jousting tournaments the king of Pacem and all his lords had so often enjoyed. And then there were swords. A hell of a lot of swords. 

Oh gods. Running, she could just about cope with. Learning to use these weapons of death and destruction, with Kame as her tutor, would certainly push Tanera over the edge.

***

Kame had been thinking about Tanera an awful lot lately. So much it was disgusting, in fact. The General quite literally felt sickened to the core at the fact that his thoughts were so occupied by the pale girl with the chocolate curls that now stood in front of him in a dress that practically screamed sunlight. He forced himself to turn away, towards the copious racks of weaponry and obstacles which had been dragged out onto the fields by a great number of mortal slaves. Tanera wouldn't just be trained to use her power or run laps around the across the arena; to be at the peak of her strength for the ritual, the somewhat sickly looking girl would have to be able to fight, and decently at that. Kame allowed a devious smile to tug at the corners of his mouth as he drew a slender silver sword from the rack. Time to see what the little noble girl has got.