To the Stars | Throne of Glass

38

Archer had his lessons; Celaena had her own. This wasn't the first time she'd been down in the dungeons with Arobynn. It was a filthy, vile place, and the extreme opposite of the marble floors and glistening chandeliers on the ground floor many feet above them. 

In the forth cell, a man lay on a stone table, wrists and ankles shackled by manacles. As they neared, footsteps echoing on the wet stone, his head twisted in a slow, heavy movement to stare at Celaena and her master with dull, bleak eyes. No recognition flared; nothing. Arobynn didn't offer an explanation to why this man deserved such a fate - she didn't ask. Steel whined as it was drawn from its sheath, and Arobynn approached the man with prowling steps. Celaena followed silently.

Arobynn now stood behind the table, running the tip of the blade down the man's sweat-and-grime coated spine. No words were uttered as he flicked his wrist, and the dagger ripped into the man's back from the top to the tailbone. 

An awful screech pierced through the air, drowning out the drip-drip-drip of algae water on the walls. The sound was no different from the other shrieks which shook the dungeons around them. 

Celaena fought away the tremor that threatened to roll over her body, and focused, ready and waiting. No flicker of remorse; no emotion crossed her face. The only sign of approval Arobynn showed was a slight dip of the chin before he slashed into the man again. Another hideous, awful cry. 

Again, and again, the blade spun and twirled its lethal, beautiful dance across the bloody slab of flesh and skin and bones. 

And finally, finally, Celaena shuddered as the screams came to a sickening halt. She stared at the mess of marred flesh, then at the man whose auburn hair glistened a deep blood crimson in the dim torchlight, all words gone from her lips. Arobynn just smiled, silver eyes glinting with a deadly gleam.

~

Celaena grinned at Archer between breathless pants as she forced her arms up, again and again. They had been training for some while outside now, sparring, climbing, other horrible exercises which made her core positively ache, and push-ups. Fifty of each. Celaena willed her arms to push harder, faster. A final hiss of breath, then she was up and running, a straight pelt towards one of the wooden columns that bordered the perimeter of the courtyard. 

Her nails barked in pain as she hurried to sought out purchase in the rough surface, and clamped her thighs round the wood. She was on both feet just as Archer headed for the columns - racing for the other end, Celaena sprinted down the uneven tiles. She hit the end wall, but rather than leap off, she grabbed the drainpipe and scaled the wall, and perched on a ledge. She could hear Archer's approach long before he came into view. One. Two.

Three.

Celaena pounced, grabbing a startled Archer by the shoulders. Together, predator and prey tumbled off the roof onto the dusty floor of the courtyard. 

Celaena rolled, and was on her feet in a heartbeat. Archer groaned, wincing. He lifted his head weakly to glare at her, then it sagged, his beautiful face crinkling in pain. Celaena cocked her head. 'That wasn't funny,' Archer moaned.

Celaena just tipped back her head and laughed.

~

Archer rose, swaying slightly as he clamped a hand onto his surely-injured shoulder. Then he punched her.

Well, tried to, at least. Because the air whooped out of his lungs as she delivered her return blow. 'Too slow.' A feral grin, then she stuck out her tongue, waggling it. Honestly, he was honestly curious as to why she didn't seem to succumb to his charm. And he was definitely insulted. A whole week, and no change, just her endless stream of taunting. 

She'd scared the hell out of him when she'd tackled him to the ground, and then she just stood and laughed. His shoulder had groaned at the blinding impact as he crashed to the ground; still throbbing now; he'd done everything in his power to avoid crying out like a babe - so he wouldn't give Celaena another reason to mock him.

Gods. She was Celaena Sardothien, one of the most notorious assassins known. An eleven year old girl who was just... just a girl. And never mind the fact that she'd trained the whole afternoon with all those weapons strapped to her body; she'd made that spectacular dive off the roof with the blades still secure and intact after the landing (which, he had to admit, was undoubtedly smoother that his tumble). 

Daggers, knives, swords- and none were proved a hindrance to her; Archer presumed she was certainly able to wield them flawlessly too. They also made the dagger tucked inside his tunic seem somewhat...tawdry. Though, there had to be some people better than her here though, right?

Archer brushed the gravel off his scratched tunic, and took a deep breath. Celaena still stood before him, a playful malice glimmering in her eyes. 'Do you want to go inside?' Yes. Please. He needed a bath. 'To train.' Rutting hell no. But he forced himself to nod, to grin back at her. He was tired; and aching all over. But Celaena, as sprightly as ever, just placed a hand on his shoulder. Despite the noticeable several-inch-difference between their heights, it really didn't seem like it. Celaena acted more mature in many ways and truly didn't seem like her age. 

She read the exhaustion and faintly-miffed look in his eyes and shoved her hip into his thigh, just a quick bump, and winked at him. She did an awful amount of winking, too. 'Come on, Archer.' His name on a tongue sent a familiar thrill running down his spine, so on reluctant feet, he trailed after her.

~

He was pissed. He was so pissed. She could see it in his eyes, if the stiffness in his body didn't portray it. 'We'll do something light and easy,' she promised. 

Archer grunted, a very un-gentlemanly noise. 'Your definition of easy isn't what I'd call easy.' 

Celaena pushed open the door as he trudged inside after her. 'We'll do no weapons then. But,' she added, 'we should start on those soon. There's no point having a dagger if you don't know how to use it.'

'How did you know?' he gaped. 

Celaena raked her gaze over his body, taking great care in avoiding the more sensual areas. 'You might stand a chance with fists-only if there came a brawl. You'd be better off with weapons, though. And a bigger variety of them.' She made a point to look at all her weapons, each gleaming blade polished and deadly. Archer swallowed, and she grabbed his sleeve. 'Get a move on. At this rate, by the time we get to the training room, it'll be midnight.'

~

'Like this.' Celaena extended her leg, slow, so Archer could see how it was done. He copied the movement, and she pursed her lips. 'It's more of a snap, not a flick - from the knee, not the ankle.' She repeated the motion, this time fast. Archer followed. 

'Yes! Better,' she appraised. 'Okay, different one. Still front facing. Use the hips to jerk the pivot.' Celaena raised her bent leg, supporting foot pivoting the opposite direction on the ground as she twisted her body and slammed her foot out. Archer, after a bewildered look, copied with his best effort. 

'Again, not bad,' Celaena said. 'But make sure you draw in your knee in to your chest, and shove; push it out.' She suddenly whirled, facing Archer, and her leg shot out, her footsword mere inches from his face. 

He gulped. Celaena held it there for a few heartbeats longer before withdrawing it with a sharp jerk. 'Right. Final one for today.'

Archer sighed in relief as she finished her reverse-kick demonstrations. But then she grinned. 'Now, let's move onto combinations.'

***

when you portray the names of kicks in writing, they don't sound particularly amazing... (e.g. her leg snapped out in a sidekick)... you know?

a roundhouse in karate is known as a turning kick in taekwondo. weird cuz roundhouse sounds so much better than turning kick XD