Figurehead

forty

"Gri is preoccupied with something," Kep says, coiling her golden hair into a tight braid at the back of her head. "So I'll be training you today." I glance at Juk, who stands in front of the door of the large and empty room. I'm glad for the long, thin window that lets the daylight flood the space.

"Blade or bare hands?" I ask, meeting her hazel gaze. "Attack or defence?"

She grins a little. "All of them," she shrugs simply, unsheathing her sriu and shifting her stance. "Come on."

"And what, you're going to join in at some point, are you?" I glance at Juk as I pull out two daggers, one in each hand.

He shrugs, mild amusement on his face. "Depends on how the two of you go."

Kep swings a fist into my jaw. Well, almost. Her fist stops right next to my skin before dropping back to her side. "Focus," she snaps, not unkindly. She readjusts her grip on the hilt of her blade, arching an eyebrow. She doesn't hesitate before slashing it through the air, and by instinct I raise my knives together to meet her sriu.

Like Gri, her incredible discipline keeps her blade from breaking my skin at all. Unlike Gri, she shows me very clearly how vulnerable I actually am by tapping the flat, cold metal of her sriu against my skin or any exposed parts of my body whenever she has the opportunity to. She has found many of these opportunities.

The two- Kep and Gri- are quite similar in training style, in some ways. Both give verbal feedback continuously throughout the spar, both are well-disciplined, both are unrelenting as they push me to fight back. Both untouchable on my part.

I'd like to hope I'm getting better, growing stronger. I'd like to think so. But I know very well that training with someone who will not shed my blood is nothing at all like defending myself against someone who wants me dead by their hand.

The spar ends with the cold flat of Kep's sriu pressed against the side of my neck, my blades scattered on the ground around me, my breath knocked out of me from when she brought my legs out from under me. Her blade doesn't break any of my skin, but she has no problems with using her legs, her feet, her elbows and her bare fists against me, bruising me.

She sheathes the sriu and steps back, exhaling. "Too many weaknesses," she mutters with a shake of her head. I clamber upright and collect my blades, knowing and feeling she is watching me all the while. I shift my stance, standing footsteps away from her. "Again."

I take my knives out but she shakes her head. "So I'm supposed to defend against your blade without one of my own?"

She shakes her head again. "No blades." She raises her forearms in front of her, fists clenched as she shifts her stance. "Come on." Tucking my blades away with a gulp I hope she doesn't see, I reflect her position.

She strikes first, of course. I only barely move in time as she kicks out, moving forward with her fists faster than seemingly possible. She is utterly merciless. And I can barely keep up as her fists and feet find their targets; my sides, my stomach, my shoulders, upper chest, upper arms, forearms, my thighs, my shins, my back if I ever turn or she moves behind me.

I'm still tired from the first spar. I didn't even get my breath back after that one, but she seems mostly fine. The only thing that shows her effort is her sweat and her somewhat uneven breathing.

She ends up on the ground with my knee digging into her stomach like it did Kir's, and at some point I must have pulled out a knife because there's one in my hand, almost touching her neck. Seeing it momentarily stuns me. "I said no blades."

I didn't realise her arms were free, but now she yanks the knife out of my grip and lets it drop to the ground behind her as she shoves me off, unbalancing me and slamming me down to the ground so that our positions are reversed, and her knee digs into my stomach while her arms hold my wrists tightly together in the air.