(Amaia)
Everyone’s pitying gazes are turned towards as I grab a wooden sword from the box.
"Pair up all of you and start sparring," Alnilam warns them and they all rapidly shuffle.
Alnitak sadly pouts at before grabbing a sword and turning towards Mintaka.
"Why do we need to fight with swords like so dieval warriors?" Ramian, the golden-haired prodigy from Guild Pegasus, asks. "Most of us have magic and shifting abilities." He usually has problems with everything and Alnitak hates his guts.
Alnilam turns his head and faces him to explain.
"The weapon training is important because of how restricted the use of magic has been made. Also, the enemy might use magic inhibitors against you. Our continent, Tarathia, is constantly at risk of war and invasion from other continents and existing kingdoms. The fight for resources is ever going and we have to be prepared. You are the main defence of our kingdom and your respective kingdoms."
We listen and nod.
"You will have your shifter and magic sessions according to your abilities," Alnilam explains further, which has already been detailed in the schedules.
His eyes then drift towards . "While the non-magic users will just have more combat training."
I square up my shoulders and straighten my spine. There is no need to be afraid of him. He might be my mate, the man who hates and is also my ntor but I am not going to be intimidated by him.
Training with a sword has been the highlight of my life. I have been trained from a young age, and now I use the double-bladed sword. I have nothing to be afraid of.
"Get to work, all of you, or there will be no lunch. I will make you bleed if I have to, so buckle up," he grunts, singlehandedly and effortlessly revolving his sword and facing .
I take my stance, our gazes lock and I shove down every bubbling feeling.
This is combat and survival and I need to show him what I am made of.
His posture is relaxed but I can see how he grips the sword. It’s a trick, the one I will not fall for.
"Let’s see what you can do in solo combat. Co at ." He summons with his free hand while his right one moves at a blinding speed, the sword points at like a challenge, appearing as the extension of his hand.
The scent of old books mingles with the dust under our feet as I grip my sword. This fight is going to be pure torture for my battered heart, but here we go.
I lunge, our ash wood swords clash mid-air.
~Clank~
"Your grip is too tight on the handle. The trick is to hold it just right," he instructs in that sharply deep voice of his which penetrates my defences and makes my insides clench.
Effortlessly he pushes back and swings it again, pivoting in his position.
It happens in slow motion for , the sway of his moon-kissed hair like a sprinkling of rain, the rippling of muscles under his tight costu and the tight setting of his jaw. The twinkle of the crescent moon on his forehead.
I dodge his attack just at the last millisecond as his sword slices through the air, aiming for the side of my neck.
I bend down, shift on my agile feet and attack his exposed back. He spins instantly blocking my attack with his sword.
My knuckles whiten against the hilt of my sword, my teeth chatter from the force my jaw applies as we battle it out for dominance.
"Relax your jaw. Never let the opponent see you angered," he instructs calmly. The air around him sings to , heavy with his scent.
I do as he says and he pushes back with an inhuman force. I slide against the dirt, and it flies up, mixing with the air.
And then he is onto like a skilled warrior, moving with such speed that my eyes find it difficult to keep track.
I parry his attacks, dodge where needed and then reposition myself, getting my bearings right. No way I am going to lose to him.
The flex of his wrist where blue veins peep out, the movent of his costu and the tumbling of his long hair in front of his intense violet eyes make weak, and yet I don’t give up.
Sweat coats my exposed skin, as relentless attacks continue along with his instructions. I have never faced a more skilled swordsman than him. Magic runs in his veins and yet he has honed his swordsmanship to perfection.
But I don’t surrender and he is unable to make even with brutal strikes and super speed he seems to possess.
And then his sword cuts through the air, aiming for my face. I try to block with my sword but I am a fraction too late. The edge of it cuts across my left cheek before mine intersects it.
A slow hiss leaves as I keep myself steady and lock eyes with him.
The bell rings in the distance, and I detect a tinge of concern in his violet eyes. Suddenly they ink black, like wisps of shadows have gathered in his very eyes. His arms refuse to move as the gaze lingers on my injured cheek.
A tenderness I observe?
What’s happening?
A single strand of his hair lifts and gently caresses my wounded cheek. The thrills run through like the jolts of electric current at the re touch.
And then it disappears as quickly as it has appeared.
"That’s enough for today. Get it cleaned up by TJ," he grumbles in his magnetic voice and steps back. His hair coils and that blackness disappears from his eyes.
My heart is about to explode in my chest as I steady myself and try not to collapse.
Slowly I turn to face my badge mates and am left stunned.
No one is sparring, instead, everyone is standing with their mouths ajar and eyes almost hanging out of their sockets.
They have been watching us spar...
Reviews
All reviews (0)