1.9 EIGHT IS NOT ENOUGH
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After dinner, they returned to the training chamber.
“Now that you know how to attack,” Glim’s father said, “it’s time for you to learn the true purpose of the eight-in-eight. So far you’ve used it for your footwork. To either get into a ready position or to block. In other words, you’ve learned footwork and defense, but now it’s time to show you the true meaning of the eight-in-eight.”
The true meaning?
Glim inhaled sharply. All of the hints, and all the times he’d been told ‘you’ll learn later’ had come to a head. Glim felt a chill run through him, anticipating the secret he was about to learn.
Glim’s father stood across from him and put his sword in the ready position. Glim matched him, watching the hips and elbows as he’d been taught. His father moved through a series of familiar movements, then stopped.
“In the other eight-in-eight drills we’ve done, I’ve always asked you to return to the ready position. Every time I call a number, you step and block and then return to ready. Or you step and get into guard. Well, this time I’m going to show you the strikes to each position. Shadow me.”
Glim gripped his sword and tensed.
“The first strike you need to know is the simplest, most effective strike of all, which is eleven. Or one-one. The one-one strike is a thrust directly at your opponent. You step forward and you strike the sword point directly at them.”
His father lunged forward, stabbing his sword point straight ahead.
“Unlike how I showed you to attack the dummy, you don’t snap your hands with a thrust to pivot the blade. You simply drive them both forward. Now step to the side and watch me. I’ll show you what I mean.”
Glim stood off to the side and watched. His father got into his ready stance, lunged forward, and thrust his sword point forward in a stabbing motion.
“This comes naturally to us. You’ve probably done such a motion yourself on instinct. The thing you need to know about the thrust is that the force you generate by doing this is much stronger than you might expect. You can hurt someone easily with even a small amount of force. This is good when you’re trying to win a fight, but it’s bad if you get into sparring against a friend. You have to be very cautious with your thrust. Hold your sword out and I’ll show you. No, off to the side. Like that.”
Glim held his sword at arm’s length. His father lunged and thrust a very short distance at it with surprising force. Glim’s sword wrenched in his hand and swung away.
“Impressive, eh? The worst thing in the world is to perform what you feel is a modest thrust towards someone and end up seriously injuring them. We’ll practice the full thrust, of course. But always remember, when you’re sparring with someone, you do not want to actually thrust and connect with them. Pull your thrust before you hit. Lightly tap them, or miss them to the side.”
His father stopped demonstrating and looked directly at him. “Understand?”
Glim nodded solemnly.
“Good. This is where your responsibility as a sword wielder really comes in. You are responsible every time you pick up a sword. You’re responsible for understanding the side effects of swinging it. What happens if you’re not cautious? If you don’t pay attention, the injuries that result are all in your hands. So let’s practice the thrust. Stand behind me and do what I do.”
Glim fell in behind his father. He watched his feet and his hips, how he moved his hands. Glim practiced the strike several times. A bit more wobbly than his father’s example to be sure, but he felt good about it.
His father came over, put his hands on Glim’s shoulders and said “you need to tilt your shoulders back. Keep your torso straight up and your head out of harm’s way. Don’t slouch over. When you’re done with your stroke, your shoulders should be pointed straight back. That’s how you gain the most leverage from the thrust and protect yourself.”
Glim practiced several more times, which drew a nod from his father.
“Good, good. Now we’re going to practice what you already did a few days ago. A slash from the diagonal down. We call that a two-to-six or a 26 strike because you’re moving from the wrath guard, down diagonally, and ending up in the sixth position. You already know the sixth guard. That’s the position you want to end up in, either the sixth guard or your ready position. Depending.”
“Depending on what?” Glim asked.
“Lots of things. Did your opponent retreat? Is their sword safely away? Then get back to ready. Are they still close? Are your swords still touching? Keep it low and react to their movement. The blade will tell you things if you learn to listen. Understand?”
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“I think so,” Glim said. “I think I’ll get it.”
“Okay, I want you to do just what I taught you before. Pretend the dummy is right in front of you, and take your swings.”
Glim pushed his right hand forward and pulled his left hand back with the fluid motion that he’d practiced.
“Very good! Now it’s time to learn the side strike. That’s where you begin with your sword cocked behind you at number two position. That’s called the wrath guard. But instead you sweep across the seven. Not downward, but to the side. Your hands and elbows move a slightly different way. You gain power by twisting your hips suddenly at the last moment. Snap your hips like this—” he pivoted his hips quickly “—and your arms and sword will follow. Like a knot on the end of a string that you’re spinning. I’ll show you.”
His father got into the two position with his sword draped over his shoulder. “Remember, lead with the hands. He moved his hands downward, close to his chest, then snapped his hips around. His sword whistled through the air.
“Now you try.”
Glim attempted to copy the move, but his movements were not coordinated in the same way. He had trouble moving his arms and hips in sync, and sighed in frustration. What did any of this have to do with the true purpose of the eight-in-eight?
“That’s okay. There’s a lot to keep in mind. Pull your sword all the way back before you strike. Lead with your hands. But keep them close and loose. Don’t stick them out like a target. Snap your hips and your hands at the same time.”
The movements did not come easy. Glim kept overextending, or moving in uncoordinated ways. It all made sense in his mind, but his hands and hips refused to follow his thoughts. Glim stomped the ground and grunted to himself. He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it. Just keep trying until it clicks. It won’t come all at once.”
Glim practiced the twenty-seven strike several more times, finally attaining some measure of coordination. His father nodded.
“Very good. Now that you’ve learned some of the basic strikes it’s time to put everything together. You’ve learned footwork, you’ve learned ready positions and guards, and you’ve learned a few strikes. Every time I’ve had you return your sword to the ready position. Why is that?”
He thought for a moment about all of the combinations. “It’s so I can always keep my sword between myself and you.”
“That’s right. But my sword is not always going to be right in the middle pointed at you. I can do all sorts of unpredictable things. So it’s time to transition away from always returning your sword to the ready position. You must learn how to move through all of the eight points fluidly.”
His father took a few steps away, got into the ready position, and winked. He unleashed a flurry of movement so rapid and dazzling that Glim could not follow it all.
“Exactly!” his father laughed. “There are so many combinations. There’s no way I can instruct you in each and every one of them. You need to learn the fundamental strikes and blocks, then learn to anticipate where my sword can go from a certain position. Where you need to position yours. Always with three purposes. Which are?”
Glim knew this one. “To get out of the fight, to defend yourself, or to inca-cip-itate you.”
“That’s right,” he said, smiling. “I’m going to show you how this works, but I don’t expect you to get it at first. It’s going to take years of practice for these movements to become second nature. The only way you’ll get there is by practicing every day, if you can. The only way you’ll learn when to block and when to strike is by practicing with someone else. But when you’re by yourself just call the numbers out in your own mind and move your sword from position to position.”
They stepped closer to each other and squared off. “We’ll start with an easy one. Get yourself into the three position.”
Glim pivoted his hips and cocked his sword back along his right side, ready to strike. His father matched the pose.
“Excellent! Now we’re going to move through to seven. It’s a simple strike across the middle. Horizontal.”
He twisted in place and his sword whipped straight across in a tight arc.
“You can either do this,” he said, repeating the movement, “or do this to knock someone else’s sword away.” He pointed his sword tip toward the ceiling and moved it straight across, as if to knock a sword away. “Thirty-seven is a defensive measure, or you can do it as a strike.”
He stood behind Glim and adjusted his shoulders and elbows with guiding hands. “You have your hips set correctly, you have your sword coiled back around you. Now I want you to swing. But before you do that, tell me the three things that you’re going to focus on before you swing.”
Glim felt his arms twitch as he mentally practiced the move. “I’m going to lead with my hands. I’m going to stay loose and snap my sword at the very end. And I’m going to twist my hips really hard.”
“That’s right! Give it a try.”
Glim felt himself twist up like a rag that he was wringing out. He took a breath and unleashed his strike. Glim unwound his body and flung his sword in a perfect horizontal arc. His father whistled.
“That’s very good, Glim! In fact I don’t have many ways to improve on that. However thirty-seven is an easy one. It’s about to get more complicated.”
Glim didn’t need father to tell him that. Between the eight foot movements, blocks, guards, and strikes, his head had already filled all the way up and started hurting. Now father had taken away the one thing Glim had been certain of: that the sword always returned to ready. But the center wasn’t really the center at all.
Glim’s mind revolted. It caught up with him all at once, like a wave hammering away inside his brain. Shame welled up inside him.
“I… I can’t.”
Father looked at him in sympathy. “I understand. You learned a lot today. It doesn’t always come easily. Swordplay is as much mental as physical. You need to do a little of both for it to make sense.”
Glim decided not to voice the real concern: his mind had already been turned to mush from Master Willow’s lessons. If swordplay continued to tax him this way, Glim feared he’d be drained before he even cast a single icicle.