Just like at Darlene’s, Gwen expected the second day of Irina’s training to be harder than the first. Unlike at Darlene’s, somehow it wasn’t. Maybe it was because Gwen had eaten and slept more on the first day. Maybe it was because Gwen’s ember had grown. Maybe it was because Gwen had gotten better at the poses.
Hopefully it was all three.
Regardless, the morning of the second day was ever so slightly easier than the first. Once Gwen loosened up, she flowed smoothly from pose to pose. Irina gave a surprised look when, two hours later, she could barely find anything to correct. She made small adjustments, but that was it.
Their midday break was the same: The women shared a meal and then they shared a nap.
The afternoon was the same as well--for the first hour, at least. But once Gwen had stretched and run through the poses a couple of times, Irina returned, accompanied by a well-built man about a head taller than Gwen.
“Frederick,” the man said, extending a hand. “We’re supposed to spar.”
“Oh,” Gwen said. “Now?” She supposed it was better than after a few more hours of work, but wouldn’t it be best when she was fully rested?
Irina nodded. She made a sign, then held up three fingers.
“First to three clean hits,” Frederick said. “It’s how we always spar here. No weapons, no armor, just a simple hand-to-hand match. Though Irina usually makes newcomers train for a whole week first.”
A week? And she was throwing Gwen into the fray after not even two days? Irina either saw something in her or was trying to scare her off.
“Ready?” Frederick asked, settling into the same neutral stance Irina had taught Gwen.
“Ready.” Gwen mirrored him. From it, the two of them would be able to start with several different poses depending on how they wanted to attack or defend.
Frederick moved first, stepping forward with his right leg and using the momentum to thrust out his right fist. Gwen swung her left leg back and swatted the blow aside, hoping to draw him off balance, but Frederick was already flowing into the next pose, aiming a kick at Gwen’s head. Gwen moved to her next pose as well, ducking as she stepped forward to throw a punch. Frederick brought his kicking foot down and pulled his left arm inward to block Gwen’s blow. He was stronger than her--at least, after she’d spent the morning practicing--and clearly just as skilled. If she wanted to beat him, Gwen needed a new strategy.
It was time to speed things up.
Gwen skipped ahead a few poses. She reversed her punch, swatting Frederick’s arm away, and then threw a front kick. Frederick had started stepping forward, so he had no time to dodge. He was able to drop his other leg back, turning it into a glancing blow, but the force of it still made him stumble.
Taking advantage of the opening she’d created, Gwen stepped forward, flowing from offensive pose to offensive pose, punch to kick to punch, skipping over the blocks and dodges. Frederick did the reverse, skipping the pure attacking poses in favor of keeping himself from getting hit.
After a few rapid exchanges of blows, Gwen and Frederick came back to where they had started. The next step was for her to throw a front kick. This time, though, Frederick’s rhythm lined up with hers. He wouldn’t be giving her an opening by stepping into it.
So Gwen changed things up. She lifted her knee, but instead of flicking her foot forward, she twisted her hips ever so slightly and kicked in an arc at Frederick’s side. He’d clearly been expecting the front kick, because as soon as she started moving her leg, he pivoted backward. At this distance, though, pivoting did nothing against a side kick but change its target. Gwen’s foot slammed into Frederick’s gut just under his chest.
Frederick staggered for the second time in the fight, but unlike the first, Gwen could tell she’d done some real damage. She planted her foot and punched, then stepped forward and punched again. When Frederick blocked the first couple of straights, Gwen switched to a pose that attacked with a hook. It caught Frederick in the side, making him gasp for air. Gwen’s following uppercut hit his chin, and he dropped.
“That’s three,” Frederick groaned. “Nice job.”
Gwen had totally forgotten about the count. She was just trying to win a fight. “Hang on, wasn’t it four?”
“First kick wasn’t a clean hit.” He winced. “Other three definitely were, though. Irina’s teaching you good.”
Irina gave a proud smile. Then she reached down and helped Frederick to his feet.
“Oof,” he said, rubbing his side where Gwen had landed her hook. “That’s the last time I take it easy on someone just because they’re new.”
Irina rolled her eyes and made a sign that Gwen guessed meant I told you.
“Wait, you were taking it easy on me?” Gwen asked. She’d let herself be proud of beating a more experienced fighter on the first try, but if he hadn’t fought at full strength...
“Kind of, kind of not. I figured since you’ve only been here for a couple days, I’d just use the basic versions of the poses. You know, the ones you learned. But I fought as hard as I could just using those.” He stretched out his hand for her to shake. “You were still way better than I expected. You fought great.”
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Gwen begrudgingly shook his hand. “Thanks. But please don’t go easy on me again.” She hated losing, but she hated winning unfairly even more.
“There’s no way,” Frederick chuckled. “I get the sense if I fight you the same way tomorrow I’ll end up with a broken rib. It’s all my strength all the time from here on out.”
“Good.” She flashed him a smile. “I’ll make sure you need it.”
“I’m sure you will.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If you don’t mind my asking, where are you staying? You’re not from Wirtrum, are you?”
“No, I’m from one of the villages. Waggoner put me up at an inn until we leave.” Why was he asking?
“Can I buy you a drink tonight? I’ll fill you in on how things work here.”
Gwen’s curiosity battled her self-preservation. The fewer people who knew where she lived, the lower the chance the Usurper could find her. Still, Waggoner was careful with whom he hired, and it seemed Irina had worked with Frederick for a while now. And now that Gwen thought about it, she had a lot of questions. She’d been fine with finding the answers gradually, but if she had someone to ask...
“Sure,” Gwen said. “That would be nice.”
“Glad to hear it. I’ll meet you outside once you’re done training.”
“Deal.” Gwen considered inviting Irina, but half of her questions were about the woman, so she decided against it. “See you then.”
#
“So Waggoner shows up one morning with a busted lip and a black eye and tells us this woman who doesn’t talk and weighs a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet is gonna be our new boss!” Frederick slammed his fist on the table with a thunk. “We all thought she was extorting him or...well, you know.
“So of course I challenged her to a duel, and I couldn’t hit her once. What’s more, she gave me the exact same injuries as him! I think it was on purpose, because the black eye was even on the same side. Kind of an eat shit for underestimating me sort of thing. There was a silver lining though: Waggoner and I made sure to wear the same color tunic and trousers for the next few days. The other guards couldn’t stop laughing.
“And that’s how Irina came to work at the stables.” He drained his ale and signaled the barkeep for another.
“That’s hilarious,” Gwen said. Frederick had an incredibly earnest air about him, like no matter what he did, he gave it his all. It made him comfortable to be around.
“No,” he laughed. “The hilarious part is, if I sparred with her again, it would go the exact same way. It’d be three times as long, cause I’m not the same lump I was five years ago, but I still wouldn’t be able to touch her. Irina’s unbeatable.” Frederick didn’t even let the waiter put down the mug. He took it right out of their hand and drained half of it in a single gulp. “Thank you kindly.”
“You’ve never sparred with her since?” Gwen asked.
“Not for real. She holds back every time she spars with us. I can tell because she fought me for real in that first duel. I think it’s so she doesn’t crush our spirits, and because it’s better to spar with someone a little bit better than you instead of way better than you.”
“Oh, so that’s what you were trying to do with me,” Gwen said. What she didn’t say was that she’d finally decided on her goals for training. First, she would beat Frederick at full strength. Then, she would beat Irina at full strength. If the ember wouldn’t let her do those, then her quest was doomed before it started.
“Yeah, well...trying.” He winced. “I’ve never met someone who got so good with the poses in two days. It usually takes people a week to be that smooth with them and another week to get comfortable switching them up like you did. For a while, most people either only use Irina’ style or only use their own.”
That explained why Frederick had gone easy on Gwen. He hadn’t expected her to have learned the poses so quickly, nor to see them as tools rather than the only way to fight. Not for the first time, Gwen was grateful for how quickly the ember let her learn and grow. The other people Frederick had met probably took two weeks just to finish building the muscles the poses required. With Gwen’s extra sleep, the ember had taken her most of the way there in only a few days, though her work with Steffan and then Darlene had been good preparation.
“How did Irina learn this style, anyway?” Gwen asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Frederick took a long sip from his mug. “Are you superstitious?” he asked quietly.
That was an odd choice of words. “I’m faithful, if that’s what you mean.”
“Sure, but...well, you don’t spook easy, do you? You don’t seem the type.”
“No, I don’t think I do.” That was more Steffan’s thing.
“All right.” Frederick leaned forward. “Story goes, Irina used to be a middle-Brancher. She went up a few Branches and studied with the Elvar, and that’s where she learned this style. Each pose is supposed to represent one of the Beohur.”
“That’s why there are fifteen!” It made perfect sense now that Gwen knew. Each pose did a slightly different thing. Even among the more aggressive ones, some were faster and smoother, while others were stronger but more abrupt. Some defensive poses sought only to protect the user, while others aimed to throw the opponent off-balance. Just like the Beohur represented every aspect of life, these poses seemed to represent every aspect of combat.
It also made sense that the fighting style had originated from the Elvar. Living so close to the Beohur, the rhythm of the Elvar’s lives was closely tied to the gods, so of course their way of combat would be too. On top of that, Gwen had never heard of the Elvar fighting any wars, so it seemed natural that their martial art would be just as spiritual as it was practical.
“Really, there’s more like fifty or sixty,” Frederick said. “But they’re all just versions of the same fifteen, so you’re still right.”
“That’s brilliant.” Gwen frowned. “But why did you ask me if I spooked easily?”
“Well, on account of the Elvar.”
“What about them?”
He tilted his head. “You don’t know, do you? I guess it makes sense, you having lived among the Roots. There’s stories of Elvar bandits robbing travelers in the middle branches. It’s just a fairy story, if you ask me, cuz the only people who get robbed kind of deserve it. They’re mean to their animals, or they’re thieves or raiders themselves, that sort of thing. And if you really pay attention, half the time the Elvar just scare them and don’t take anything. But travelers are a superstitious lot, so they try not to bring up the Elvar. Even all the way down here.” Frederick shrugged.
“Huh.” It sounded to Gwen like humans had seen Elvar on the road and just assumed the magical beings were going to rob them because they looked strange. But Gwen would avoid mentioning the Elvar if she could. She didn’t want to draw extra attention to herself.
“Anyway,” Frederick said, “let me tell you about the team. Including you, there’s five of us guards...”