CHAPTER 38: THE ART OF SWORDSMANSHIP [1]

"Hold the sword like this," Varek said. "Firm, but not too tight. Let it feel like an extension of your arm. Your eye should be on your opponent, not the blade. And most importantly... breathe. Control your breath. Control your movements."

Aeron looked at Varek with his stick and focused on himself all at once.

"Don’t stare at your blade," Varek continued. "Your opponent’s eyes, their shoulders, that’s where the strike begins. Read them. Breathe steady. If your breath is out of control, your body follows."

Varek suddenly turned and swung. "Strike now!"

Aeron flinched but brought his stick up just in time. The two wooden swords met with a clack.

"Don’t hesitate!" Varek snapped. "When you see the opening, take it. Don’t even try to blink or you’re dead."

Aeron tried to forcefully push forward, but Varek twisted his wrist and knocked Aeron’s stick off balance.

"Wrong!" Varek said as he stepped back. "You don’t use muscle here. You must be intentional. Every move must have a reason. Do you understand?"

Aeron nodded, still panting.

Nearby, Yvarra sat on a tree stump and was focused on them. She wasn’t watching just for fun. She had her sketchbook on her lap and was trying to draw every move.

She wanted to learn it too. But for now, she watched and drew.

Ronan stood farther away with a stick in his hand, copying some of the moves they made. Varek had told him earlier, "Not today." That he has to train Aeron alone as it was an urgent one.

Varek took another stance and Aeron moved to copy him.

"Good," he muttered. "Now watch your distance. If you’re too close, you’re open to the blade. Too far and you miss your chance."

He moved again. Aeron followed. Step after step, the two of them moved together. Forward. Back. Strike. Block.

It went on for hours.

Aeron’s legs were beginning to wobble beneath him and sweat poured down his face and soaked his shirt.

Varek didn’t slow down.

"Up," he ordered, when Aeron’s knees buckled and he fell. "No weakness. You show weakness on the battlefield, and someone will drive a sword through your heart."

Aeron forced himself back up.

"You think the enemy will care that you’re tired?" Varek’s voice was harsh but not cruel. "You think you’ll be given a break during battle? No. You fight until it’s over or you fall."

Aeron gritted his teeth and stepped forward again. He swung, blocked, and parried. But his steps were slowing down. His movements became more sloppy and his grip weaker.

Finally, Varek stopped. He lowered his stick and looked at the boy.

"You’re exhausted," he said.

Aeron nodded, as his chest was heaving.

Varek crossed his arms. "Then prove to me you learned something."

"What?"

"Do it alone," Varek said. "Go through the movements. All the ones we practiced."

"Wait, all of them?" Aeron blinked. "But... there were so many."

"Ten," Varek replied. "Just ten positions, and if you can show me at least eight of them, then I’ll let you rest. If not..."

"If not?" Aeron asked.

"We go again, from the start," Varek said. "Until you remember them with everything in you."

Aeron looked at his hands, which were shaking. He could barely feel his fingers.

But he knew there was no shortcut. Not with Varek.

He swallowed hard and took position.

"Alright," he said, panting slightly. "Let me try."

Varek stepped back, folded his arms, and watched him.

Aeron took a deep breath, then bent his knees, and adjusted his feet into the correct stance. He gripped his short blade with both hands, just like Varek had taught.

Then he took the first step, It was clean. Second, foot twist, guard up.

Third, shift weight, raise blade for a strike...

And then, his back foot slipped slightly and he stumbled forward and crashed to the ground.

"Oof!" Ronan winced from the sidelines.

Yvarra looked up from her sketches.

Varek let out a low sigh. "That was three steps," he said as he walked toward him. "Three out of ten. You see now why you don’t have the luxury of resting."

Aeron groaned as he sat up and rubbed his shoulders. "I know... but I’m exhausted. And honestly... I can’t even remember all the steps anymore. They’re just... mixing up in my head."

"I have the moves here," Yvarra said, waiving her notebook. "They’re not great. Just rough sketches, but maybe they’ll help you remember."

Aeron went to her, took the notebook, and flipped through it. "You really got all this?"

"I tried," she shrugged. "Better than nothing."

Varek gave a short nod. "Fine. I’ll count that as you resting. Go through the sketches. Try to fix those steps in your mind. Because in a few minutes, we will continue."

Aeron gave a small groan. "A few minutes isn’t enough..."

"Neither is a sword through your ribs," Varek replied as he was already turning away. "I’ll be back shortly."

He grabbed his stick and sword, adjusted the strap on his shoulder, and began walking to the edge of the clearing. Just as he reached the treeline.....

Thud.

A figure flipped through the air and landed directly in his path.

Varek instantly stepped back and dropped into a ready stance.

The person wore a black robe that was tightly wrapped around a slim, agile body. A mask covered their face, but long braids of dark hair slipped out from the hood.

A woman, Varek thought.

She said nothing and just drew her sword slowly.

Varek didn’t wait. He drew his own sword, and the two of them stood across from each other, with their blades raised, and their feet circling one another.

Aeron stood up immediately. "Who is that?"

Ronan reached for his stick. "Dad! Do you need help?!"

"Stand back!" Said. "Stay with your sister!"

The masked woman tilted her head slightly. Then, without a sound, she lunged.

CLANG!

Steel met steel as they fought.

She would flip and strike while Varek would block and counter. She dodged, struck again with a diagonal sweep aimed for his ribs.

He stepped back just in time and defended her blade with his.

CLANG! CLANG! SWISH!

They moved fast, too fast for the others to follow clearly

Each time she attacked, he countered. Each time he moved, she mirrored. Their footwork was perfect and their strikes were deadly.

Then, with almost impossible speed, the masked woman launched herself high into the air, one flip, two, three, and came down with a heavy strike aimed straight for Varek’s chest.

He dodged, barely, as he slid backward across the dirt.

But she landed fast and planted one foot hard on his chest and pinned him down. Her blade came to rest near his throat, not cutting, but very close.

Everyone stood frozen.

The woman slowly lowered her sword, stepped back, and allowed Varek to rise to his feet.

"You fight well," she said in a calm voice. "No wonder you’re the one training the dragon rider. You are no ordinary man."

Just then, she pulled down her mask, and Varek froze.

Without wasting time, he dropped his sword and bowed deeply.

"Your Highness," he said.

"..."

"..."