The Blood God

Chapter 7

“Do you think the General will resume his teachings now that he’s back?” Jezebel’s sparring partner with didn’t pause at her question. She parried his blow to her midsection, another move she’d recently learned. “I haven’t seen him out here since he left almost two weeks ago.”

The courtyard buzzed with the noise of swords clashing, shuffling footsteps, and the thuds and groans of wrestling matches. All the movement kept the students hot and sweaty. Another senior official subbed in for the General in his absence as the General had disappeared shortly after he’d thrown that stone.

Her partner, who was senior to her and more skilled than she, played the offensive role while they sparred, thrusting his sword toward her midsection. She shifted right to dodge.

“I’m not entirely certain,” he said, breathing heavily. “I’d heard he left on a mission. But now that it’s over, who knows.”

She executed a series of successful parries and blocks. Her defensive skills were improving. “He is more skilled than this other man they have teaching us.”

No sooner than the words had left her lips than did the crowd become oddly quiet. The General had just emerged from inside the main Sigefolc building, the one where her room was located.

He studied his students a moment before bellowing, “Get back to work!”

“And there he is,” her partner said, returning to his practice with her. He sliced swiftly toward her legs, almost catching her off-guard, but Jezebel got her sword around in time and their blades clanked in a successful block. She let herself smile a bit, proud of every gain that she made. Each day that went by, she could envision herself more and more as a woman that could fight.

The General paced around the students, stopping at some to give instruction and practice sparring with them.

“You’re moving too quickly, Jezebel. It’s starting to look more like an attack and less like a parry,” her partner pointed out, noticing her distraction.

“It’s just that it’s becoming a little predictable.” She parried high this time, realizing too late that she’d made the same mistake, her blade extending further than it should have.

He shrugged. “It’s supposed to be predictable. It’s supposed to be practice until you perfect the move.”

The General appeared beside her partner. “Stand aside, Svenson.” He pulled his giant sword from its scabbard.

As the General took his stance in front of her, Jezebel grew wary.

“I saw what you were doing with Svenson. You overreached with your weapon and turned a parry into something sloppy. There is no name for the hideous move I saw you execute.”

She would have been insulted had this been day one, but this was not day one. It was day too-many-to-count. She readied her weapon.

“Whenever you’re ready, sir.”

She felt like she needed to show the General what she’d meant when she said it was becoming predictable. She knew her moves were incorrect, but being able to anticipate the attack was getting dull.

The General thrust at her. She blocked, pushing his sword off to the side like a toy. He narrowed his eyes, starting off slow this time before picking up the pace. She searched inside herself for that sensation she’d felt when he’d thrown a pebble at her, the emotional pulse that fired off a white-hot surge in her head. Over the past two weeks, she’d come to pay attention to it more often.

As he struck repeatedly at her, she parried each blow successfully. Her blade struck his before it was even halfway through its mid-air arc. His sword caught the light of the sun as he paused. She focused her breathing, holding her weapon up at the ready.