Hierarchy (Book Four of the Torrent Skies Saga)

Chapter Six: A Gift to Remember

Katerin tried to flex her wrist and winced at the pain her curiosity caused. The scar of where the bone had pierced the skin was faint, but not at all forgotten. She thought it almost ironic, that the scar looked similar to the shape of a just kindled flame, jagged at the edges.

She had been home for a ten-day, and Arjiah was supposed to be here today, returning from her trip to Ky'lei'mei, but Katerin had hoped that Graiden's healing would have already eased the burden of the injury. To her dismay, it had not, and she knew something was not as it should be. Her wrist did not move right and bending it in any direction was a painful occurrence. Sometimes, it hurt even while still, especially in the cold.

Despite the cool air, she had worked up enough of a sweat upon her that any movement left her feeling sticky. She ignored that as best she could while facing Lugaria in a small ring of stones outside the manor.

"Stop reacting with that arm," Lugaria's practice sword was tip first in the dirt, and his arms were crossed above it. "The point of this is to keep you from ruining yourself."

With each series of attacks, she was only supposed to counter, using her staff in her left hand. Her right could barely handle the simplest tasks, and fighting was not among them. It surprised her, how gentle he was being, for any force against her injured arm left her wanting to weep.

"She's doing pretty well," Brazen said, standing next to Imeiza and watching, while eating a handful of seeds, and sharing them with the small squirrel on his shoulder.

"She needs to break the habit," Lugaria said, his tone stern.

Katerin bit her tongue. It was as if they thought she could not hear what they were saying. She was fine and growing steadily tired of their insinuation that she was anything less than she had been. "Lets try again," she said, working to keep the frustration from her voice. Her other wounds had been much improved since her return, but her wrist was stubborn. Worries of it were likely affecting her fighting far more than the injury itself.

Lugaria glanced to the looming clouds that promised inclement weather, but shrugged.

His attacks were slow, gentle taps. As if she had never fought in her life. He left her with the offensive, but she worked to stay calm, only swinging her weapon when it would grant her results. It felt awkward, and more than once she used her right forearm to re-balance an attack, or extend the power of a blow.

The slow pace continued for a minute until Katerin's frustration outgrew her patience. She swept the staff for Lugaria's leg, and with a swift turn, poked the weapon into his hip, so he had no choice but to fall into the muck of the mixed snow and mud.

He rolled as soon as he hit the ground, and Katerin swung down. He was to his feet and around behind her before her staff stuck, and with a simple grab of her shirt, it was her turn to twist. His wooden sword slapped the muddy earth beside her, but instead of ceasing his assault, Lugaria upped the tempo. He tapped her ribs, and slapped the flat of the blade into her right leg, unbalancing her. He twisted it behind her leg and tugged. She fell. It if had been an actual blade, her leg would be in shreds. Finally, the wide point of his practice sword struck towards her throat with surprising speed.

Instead of trying to use her injured hand to push the point of the fake weapon away, she  rolled, and spoke a single word. The wooden sword sparked into flames that quickly consumed the oiled wood. Katerin huffed, feeling the sticky chill of the mud and cursing. She should have known to predict his movements.

Lugaria watched the sword burn for a second before dropping it where the flames consumed it. It hissed and expired into ash.

Agrata had joined Brazen and Imeiza during their last sparring session, and he watched them with a raised eyebrow. "I'll take a turn," he said, gesturing to the other wooden weapons nearby.