Three weeks had passed since their return to Hollowfell from the Beladine capital of Timsiora, and the Ilinfan swordmaster hadn’t wasted a moment in putting his new student through his paces. The empty solar, once a place of dust, cobwebs and sad memories for Lord Uhlfrida was transformed into a training room, with a concentric pattern of diminishing circles painted on the floor. Hooks driven at various spot into the walls and ceiling provided anchor points to which lengths of rope were strung, creating an intricate net.
“For exercises to increase agility and flexibility,” the swordmaster explained to the perplexed Uhlfrida family when they saw the contraption.
A servant had set up the workspace where Jahna put down her supplies to record—a small table and a chair that hugged a corner and caught the best light from a high window. It offered her a good view of the entire room while still allowing her to stay out of the way.
Radimar had readily agreed to Jahna’s request to observe the lessons and record how Ilinfan teachers passed on their knowledge to their students. Sodrin had been less than enthusiastic at the idea.
“How can I fight if she’s lurking over there distracting me with all that quill scratching?”
Radimar paused while measuring the floor for his painted circles and gave Sodrin a withering look. “If something as insignificant as a quill stops you from being able to fight, then I need to pack now and return to Ilinfan, as there is nothing I can teach you which will overcome that level of laziness.”
Sodrin flushed pink at the rebuke, but said no more. He avoided Radimar’s eyes in favor of glaring at Jahna who shrugged and returned a triumphant smirk.
Radimar hadn’t made an appearance yet this morning, and the siblings took advantage of that by bickering. Sodrin practiced a few leisurely swings with the wooden waster Radimar insisted he use. “Big talk from you. It isn’t like he hasn’t put you on your arse a few times.”
That was true. Radimar’s willingness to allow her in for the lessons as an observer came with a price. Sometimes she had to participate and those days usually saw her sporting more than a few bruises for the effort.
She shrugged. “But I don’t have anything to prove. Nor do I care if you see me fall. You have too much pride, brother.”
“And you not enough,” he volleyed back. “Radimar is wasting his time teaching you things you’ll never use.”
This morning it was she who glared at him. He had stopped just short of calling her a coward. She opened her mouth to retort but was stopped by Radimar’s arrival.
He wore a high-collared tunic of bleached linen over dun colored trousers and soft-soled shoes strapped at the calves. His bright hair was combed back from his face and secured at his nape with a thong. The piercing gaze Jahna found both arresting and intimidating swept the room, touching first on Sodrin, then on her.
“You’re both wastingyourtime talking when you could be practicing your footwork or sparring with each other,” he said.
Sodrin flexed his shoulders and stretched his arms in preparation for the lesson. “Remind me again why I’m sparring with her?”
The swordmaster walked the room’s perimeter, testing the tautness of the ropes Sodrin had strung earlier by swinging on each one. Jahna tried not to gape at the impressive sight of Radimar’s shoulder muscles flexing under his shirt or the way his thighs tightened as he stretched from one rope to another, pulling himself along like a spider on a web. Nimble, quick, deadly.
Satisfied with his student’s work, he dropped to his feet and dusted his hands before answering Sodrin’s question. “Because sometimes an untrained adversary is the most dangerous one. They don’t follow a memorized rule, don’t employ a familiar tactic or strategy. Every once in awhile they get in a lucky hit that can be very unlucky for you. Even fatal.”
“His luck holds this morning, Sir Radimar,” she chimed in. “Today is my day only to observe and record the lesson.”
Radimar’s thin-lipped mouth turned down at the corners. “It will serve you best if you participate as often as possible, my lady. Doing so will anchor it more solidly in your memory.”
“Afraid?”
Sodrin’s taunt made Jahna bristle. She stuck her tongue out at him. “Hardly.” She waved a hand down her front. “I’m not dressed for a lesson.”
Radimar shrugged. “Then dress for it. We’ll be here when you return.”
She raced back to her room to change into a tunic and a pair of Sodrin’s trousers she’d cut and altered to fit her frame, and returned to the solar. The two men had already begun training, with a regimen of tumbling and swinging on and among the ropes. At Radimar’s gesture, she joined Sodrin on the webbing.
The exercise itself seemed like child’s play when Radimar first described it, but brother and sister soon learned it was anything but play. Jahna lost count of the number of times her tumbles landed her in a tangle of limbs and rope or sent her careening into her brother. Radimar’s repeated advice for how to avoid such bodily crashes even invaded her dreams.
“You move like you’re invisible to each other. Always be aware of your opponent. Where they are in relation to you, to the furniture in the room, to the doors and windows. Learn their size, their reach and how to stay out of their way untilyouchoose to bridge the distance between you.”
He often backed up his instructions with demonstrations, allowing Jahna to see how he moved through the ropes around and over Sodrin, quick and agile, sometimes coming close enough to her brother to flutter his hair but never quite touching. He did the same for Sodrin, leaving Jahna winded and a little dizzy as she staggered away from the webbing to catch her breath. It was an exercise in control, in strength, and as he said, a supreme awareness of the space another person occupied on the ropes at any given time.
Lessons always began with the ropes, then moved to footwork—Jahna’s favorite part of the training. Footwork was precise and offered insight into how her body balanced best, moved quickest. Unlike her, Sodrin hated it and complained at first over Radimar’s relentless drills regarding stance, passing steps and shoulder position.
“Nothing about this involves sword fighting,” he complained one morning.
It seemed as if Radimar ignored the complaint as he circled Jahna, motioning for her to widen her stance a little more and turn her shoulder a hair. He raised a hand to signal she stay as she was and with one quick motion, reached out and lightly shoved Sodrin.
The move sent Sodrin flailing backward, and he landed on his backside with a grunt. Jahna watched askance and pressed her lips together to hold back a giggle.
