Li Jun blinked. He stared in the direction that Shao Cheng had fled for some time, pondering and frowning, unable to understand why Lao-Shao would run away from bandages.
Then he, too, turned and left very slowly for home.
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Abrial opened her eyes slightly. This time, there was no gasping awake, and the sweat on her neck didn’t seem substantial. She even still felt sleepy.
For a brief moment, she studied the warm red glow faintly illuminating the tent, like the radiance of hot magma. It faded to a warm orange, then a yellow, and at last black.
Abrial closed her eyes and returned to a deep sleep.
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Abrial spent her days at the Wei camp practicing riding Dal and following Finley around camp to her duties as someone with high magical ability. She watched Finley grow and harvest herbs for cooking and healing in the camp gardens, and direct healers in the infirmary tent in healing small injuries and treating colds. It was all amazing, but every time Finley performed magic, Abrial felt her heart sink a little knowing more that she couldn’t do the same. She hadn’t been able to perform natural magic successfully even one time so far…What if she never did?
When she grew bored, Abrial went to run around in the hills, climbing the few greeting pines scattered around the camp to outrageous heights and sprinting recklessly around hills, or else accompanying Lyra to her guard post on the tallest hill to the south of camp. It was a lonely, boring job; it seemed it was rare for anyone new to arrive at the camp. With all of the hatred towards magic running rampant in Gongkua for hundreds of years, there were few magicians left in the Empire, Lyra informed Abrial. The guard post was mostly for precaution and to send warning signals in the case of an unlikely invasion by the Emperor’s guard.
On rare days, Abrial accompanied Finley to Bi Gho’s magic lessons. However, after failing at three different lessons to make water shift the tiniest bit, make wind blow as weakly as a ragged breath, cause a seed to sprout even a tiny green shoot, or catch even the weakest drop of sunlight in her hands, Abrial started growing depressed at the idea of magic lessons. She left Finley to attend on her own, and wandered over to Instructor Wei’s morning blade fighting lessons instead. Here, at least, she could actually do something!
At first, Abrial simply watched the lesson from the side, leaning against a tent with her arms crossed and her fingers twitching with the subconscious desire to draw her daggers and fight. When Instructor Wei split his young male students into pairs to practice blade fighting during one lesson, Abrial snapped. She couldn’t take just standing to the side and watching anymore! Not when people were fighting so badly!
There was a pair fighting viciously right in front of her, stabbing and slicing with furious force. It looked almost as though they were trying to kill each other—and what’s more, their strokes were all wrong, wrong, wrong!
“Stop! Stop!”
It took the two boys a moment to realize Abrial was hollering at them among the clamor of metal clashing, grunting, and shouting that echoed around the clearing. They paused, glinting silver swords pointed murderously at each other's throats. Abrial ran towards them, waving her hands with a nauseous look on her face.
She pushed them violently apart from one another.
“Listen! Listen here!” she hollered, grinding her teeth like she was in pain—mental pain. “You both have the worst freaking footwork I’ve ever seen! If you keep going like this, you’re gonna stay below your potential for your entire lives!”
One of the boys lowered his sword, eyes widening. He had a well-carved, handsome face, tan skin, and warm eyes that shone with eagerness. Across his forehead was tied a thin blue headband, similar to Instructor Wei’s.
“You’re here!” he exclaimed excitedly, recognizing Abrial’s face immediately. “Abrial, right? You sparred with Teacher Wei last week!” He sheathed his sword and bowed his head almost reverently. “It’s an honor to meet you again, Miss. My name is Wu Dafu.”
Meanwhile, the other boy forcefully sheathed his sword, crossed his arms, and rolled his eyes. He was very tall and had a face that could be easily described as pretty: slimly sculpted, pale, with glittering dark eyes and long black lashes. His dark hair was tied back with a black ribbon. While his face was pretty, however, his expression was the exact opposite. He stared at Abrial like she was an extremely ugly painting that he wanted to burn. His gaze could only be described as the most irritated gaze to ever exist in the entire Empire of Gongkua (and maybe beyond).
“What, have you just seen a god?” this pretty boy scowled. “Stop falling all over yourself, Ah Fu, you look like an idiot.” He turned to Abrial, still crossing his arms tightly. Glaring straight into her eyes without reservation, he grumbled, “Ya Syaoran. I see we’re meeting again.”
“Don’t be so cold, Ah Ran,” Wu Da-Fu scolded. “She’s a master blade fighter — why don’t you bow your head?”
Ya Syaoran shot Wu Da-Fu a look colder than ice. “Why don’t you bow your head again even lower, if you want people to grovel to her so badly?”
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“Enough!” Abrial intervened, waving her hands around. The vibes were kind of weird right now…Just based on their words, it would seem these two boys were fighting, or at least that Ya Syaoran hated Wu Dafu. But…their tone of voice, the way they looked at each other, and the nicknames—they were clearly very close. That was just confusing, and Abrial wasn’t here to analyze weird relationships! She didn’t understand that kind of stuff anyways. “I just came to point out that you — ” she pointed at Wu Dafu, who perked up enthusiastically, “ — you step too late, like you have all the time in the world. You don’t! You’re gonna get speared like a fish if you fight a real blade master! Step a little earlier, so that you feel the force of your foot hitting the ground with your strike. And you — ” she gestured to Ya Syaoran, who was still glowering at her uncomfortably, “ — you step too early, like you can’t wait to strike. Be a little more patient. Step later, so that your step matches with the timing of your strike. Got it?”
Wu Dafu bowed from the waist speedily, the strands of his blue headband fluttering as he dunked and rose.
“Yes, Teacher Abrial!”
Ya Syaoran averted his eyes, arms still crossed. The black ribbon in his hair fluttered with the wind of Wu Dafu’s enthusiastic bow.
“...I’ll do my best.”
“Great!” Abrial grinned, stepping away from between them. “Slow down your fight for practice! It'll help you figure out your movements.”
In a blink, Ya Syaoran and Wu Da-Fu flew at each other again, only a little less viciously this time. Abrial watched their feet with the eyes of a hawk, picking out every flaw.
“Yeah!” she shouted with joy, pumping a fist. “Yeah, that’s much better! Wu Dafu, that’s too fast! Slow it down. Like that! Ya Syaoran, loosen your grip! Your strikes become stiff if you hold the sword too tightly. Better, but—looser! Yeah! Leaning into your strike will increase the force! Put more weight on your front foot when you move in, less on the back. That’ll exhaust you less…”
Nearby pairs of boys had paused their sparring matches, exhausted, and were meandering over to watch this match, wiping sweat from their faces.
“Look, it’s her, Abrial — she’s back!”
“She’s teaching those two?”
“Aw, why are they getting special treatment?”
Dieter stood at the back of the small crowd, peering through the gaps between boys’ necks.
“Her again,” he sneered grumpily. “Such an attention-grabber. Does she have to get involved everywhere?”
Wu Dafu was bent on impressing ‘Teacher Abrial’, and Ya Syaoran always fought particularly viciously against Wu Dafu, so it was a long time before they both dropped their swords, gasping for breath and dripping with sweat from head to toe. Thanks to Abrial’s advice during their match, they’d actually managed to fight for longer than anyone else! All of the students in the clearing had gathered to watch by now. Instructor Wei remained standing still at the clearing front and watching from afar, a slight smile on his lips. His hands rested clasped behind his back, and his eyes were unreadable.
As soon as Ya Syaoran and Wu Da-Fu’s swords clanged to the ground, the crowd of rowdy boys closed in on Abrial, bursting into earsplitting chatter and bustling for her attention:
“Abrial, are you instructing with Teacher Wei now? Can I call you Teacher Abrial?”
“Teacher Abrial, instruct us next!”
“Can I spar you in a match, Teacher Abrial? Would you go easy on me? Don’t go easy, I can take it!”
Abrial felt suddenly overwhelmed by this horde jostling for her attention, pressing in from all sides. Instinctively, she scanned the crowd for a path of escape, but they were shoving too tightly together for her to slip out. Her chest tightened, forcing her breaths to be shallow and hoarse. She held up her hands in front of herself, scrunching her shoulders up.
“Slow down, slow down…I’m not a teacher, I was just giving them some tips! Hold on, let me out — ”
“Give me tips, too!”
“What kind of tips were you giving, Teacher Abrial?”
“How did you get them to fight for so long? Was it your advice? Or did you make them mad?”
Abrial breathed shallowly, being jostled around. She felt like she was being suffocated by an avalanche of questions and eager, shining eyes.
“Everyone,” a calm voice resounded over the crowd. Immediately, the herd of students stilled, voices quieting like a wet blanket had dropped on them. “Move back, please. You are pressing in too closely. It is disrespectful to do so. Everyone, return to your sparring positions in the clearing.”
The crowd reluctantly but obediently dispersed, giving way for Instructor Wei to stride up to Abrial. Students around the field continued to crane their necks to glimpse at Abrial, who was breathing heavily and holding her chest as she caught her breath. Her face was slightly pale. The feeling that had been coursing through her body in the midst of all that crowding was horribly similar to the feeling that had shocked her awake so many nights at the house, trapped inside those walls…
Instructor Wei’s warm hand on Abrial’s shoulder shook her out of her daze.
“Breathe,” he said firmly. His river-blue robes flowed in a rhythmic manner around his lithe body. Abrial struggled to focus on them over the drum-like beating of her heart in her ears. Their fluid, graceful quality was calming.
Slowly, her breath returned to normal. She grinned a wobbly grin up at Instructor Wei, dropping her hands from her chest.
“Thanks,” she insisted, “But I’m fine.”
Instructor Wei nodded. “I know.” His dark eyes twinkled warmly, crescent-like. “You are quite good at teaching the art of the blade. I am sure my students would be happy if you returned tomorrow.”
Abrial’s eyes lit up. “Can I really come and teach a little? I wouldn’t mess up your lessons. I’d just give some tips! Only if you’re okay with that,” she added quickly.
Instructor Wei laughed gently. The sound was a warm spring breeze.
“I would be glad if you could teach with me,” he smiled, lifting his hand from Abrial’s shoulder. “But only if you have time. You are welcome to join to assist me during any lesson.”
Abrial’s dark eyes sparkled, thrilled. She punched both of her fists in the air, thumbs pointing up.
“All right! I’ll be here tomorrow!”
Nearby, Wu Dafu turned to Ya Syaoran enthusiastically, eyes shining.
“A-Ran! Did you hear that? Teacher Abrial is coming back tomorrow!”
Ya Syaoran scoffed, turning his face away. His long, dark hair swished as he jerked his head.
Everyone in the clearing except Ya Syaoran and Dieter burst into excited chatter at the idea of having this new blade master — who, they had collectively agreed after her last visit, was an undeniably handsome and attractive beauty — instruct them alongside Instructor Wei.