Chapter 2

One Final Lesson

“Jenna!” Master Torok shouted as Keira pulled on a black sleeveless shirt. Her back was still a bit stiff from Torok’s whip.

“Yes, Master,” Jenna said breathlessly as she ran up.

“Swords and shields,” Torok commanded quietly.

She nodded quickly and ran over to the shaded area that the Non’s worked out of. She took her position opposite Master Torok, while she watched two Non’s jog over with shields and wooden arming swords. The chain and cloth harnesses on their backs, which marked them as Non’s, jangled as they ran.

A boy younger than Keira approached. Grime and filth covered his face and tan tunic. His brown eyes spoke of years of beatings and cruelty by the warlocks of the village. While she had always been kind to the Non’s in her life, especially the few that worked for her father, others in the village felt that Non’s deserved punishment for not becoming warlocks. He held out the training equipment for her to take, fearing to look her in the eyes. As she took them, he lowered his hands quickly and ran back to what he was doing. She watched him as he retreated and noticed one of the other students tripped him and laughed.

The rest of the students chuckled softly as they resumed their morning exercises. The chuckles gave way to the banging of wood on wood of the students' practice weapons. The air was filled with dust as they began their morning exercises.

“Keira!” Master Torok commanded, and she immediately focused her attention back on him, “Show me that you are worthy of your ascension tomorrow.”

He crouched, pulling the shield up to his chest, setting the sword in a high guard. All around them the sounds of wood clacking together faded, as Keira narrowed on the task. She had seen Master Torok fight in the past. Sometimes to test his pupils before their ascension rite, but more often to demonstrate a fighting technique. While Torok was perhaps the greatest warrior in the village, he had never shown off his abilities as a warlock. Only focusing on the martial aspects of their cultures training practices. She had always wondered why he never used magic, now that Keira’s final day was upon her she doubted that she would get an answer now.

Keira took stock of her opponent as she approached her sword low and shield out. He was about a foot taller than her at six and a half feet. This gave him the advantage of reach. His long arms could become a problem if he opened with long sweeping blows. Torok’s real power was in his large shoulders, heavily muscled from decades of wielding the whip.

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If I get inside his guard, it would negate the advantage of his reach, Keira thought. He stared at her, his milky amber eyes betraying nothing of his intent. She leapt forward, aiming for his head.

He raised his shield, and the blow bounced off. The sword in her hand vibrated with the rebound, and Keira could feel the shock of the metal core reverberate up her arm. She ducked her head and braced against her shield for the counter-attack. When it didn’t come, she looked up and found Torok at her open flank, aiming at her neck.

She stepped forward out of the blow and into his shield bash, which sent her reeling into the dirt. Keira landed on her side and she rolled to regain her footing. Her back screamed with pain, the newly healed scars on her back stretching.

“If you come against an opponent that has more experience than you, you must act unpredictably, to throw them off balance,” Torok explained. Keira looked around at the other students who had ceased training to watch. Feeling the burning heat of humiliation blush behind her ears, Keira sprinted at Torok in a blind rage.

At two paces from the training master, he swept aside her shield. Then he rode the swing into a rounding kick that caught her in the chest. She gasped and heard a cracking sound as she landed on her back.

“An attack must be grounded in proper footing. You press foolishly to hasten victory,” Master Torok barked, as he walked away from her.

Keira gulped for air, but a shooting pain in her chest left her breath shallow. She got to one knee, and she dumped the shield on the ground. She grimaced as she lunged at him with all her strength.

Master Torok not expecting her to recover so quickly, he left his back exposed. Sidestepping at the last moment, but too late Keira took advantage of his retreat.

Moving inside his reach advantage and struck a solid blow just below the neck. The dark skin broke beneath her wooden blade, and blood oozed from the small wound. He staggered back holding his neck.

Torok looked down at his hand playing with the blood from his neck, “Perhaps,” he paused, “you will give the ascension the honor it deserves.”

Keira looked around at her fellow students, many of them wide eyed and mouths gaping. She knew if she had struck him with a proper sword he would be headless now. Keira hadn’t heard of anyone who had such a lethal hit against him.

Master Torok raised an eyebrow as he spied the crowd watching them, “Return to training.” He said briskly.

The others scrambled and the clamoring of wood on wood resumed. Torok’s gaze returned to Keira who hadn’t moved from her ready position, both hands holding the sword tightly. His eyes narrowed, studying her and he gave a slight nod.

“Holof.” Torok beckoned, not taking his eyes away from Keira. A young red-haired Üna-vek jogged over to them.

“Yes, Master.” His hard baritone carrying across the training yard.

“Pair with Keira for the rest of the morning exercises,” he said, giving Holof his sword and shield.

“Yes, Master,” Holof replied. Torok gave Keira another quick glance.

“I have nothing more to teach you in your present condition, fight hard or die well,” Said Torok.

She noted the faintest of smiles come across his face as he walked toward the medical barracks. She grinned in the knowledge that it was probably the closest she would come to respect from the cruel trainer of warlocks.