I get my hands comfortable around the hilts of my twin blades as I move forward into the sparring area. “I guess we should thank Rannigan Bloodthief for finding a human sorcerer skilled enough to come up with a spell to counter firebreath. Chomp, chomp, and it’s done might’ve turned you all into lazy dragon shifters a long time ago.”
We start to circle. Two against one means I have to watch all sides and move faster than either of them.
“Is that your best trash talk, Idallia?” Danica chuckles menacingly as she edges forward. “It needs some work.” Quick as the beat of a dragon’s wing, she leaps in and strikes hard.
I counter her attack, hold Wade off with my other sword, then kick Danica in the hip, sending her stumbling back. “So does your footwork. I’d suggest keeping your legs under you in a fight.”
Sensing more than seeing the menace from behind, I duck Wade’s swing, and his blade sails over my head. Instead of popping up, I drop low and sweep a kick around to hit his legs. He jumps at the last second, and momentum carries me around. I twist and roll, coming back up into a defensive stance.
Wade takes another swing at me, coming in high while Danica goes low. Deflecting them both at once isn’t easy, but the challenge is just what I need for strength to surge inside me with that thunderclap only I can hear. I speed up, but they’re fast and relentless, pounding at me in quick succession and looking for ways to disarm me. The harder they try, the better I fight back, my movements faster and harder to track. My assets are speed and reactivity. I’ll never hammer with the brute strength of a dragon shifter, but I don’t need to if I can get in just the right hit.
The longer we spar, the more my reflexes come alive, and my senses sharpen. Then suddenly, I can hear everyone’s breath, the grinding of insects, the rustle of leaves, the fluttering of our warbirds in the trees. I can even sense a ripple of wind on the lake, feel each ray of sunshine sinking into my skin, and hear Bale’s soft inhalations through his nostrils as he evaluates my moves.
Instead of helping, the overload of information starts to distract me. Wade gets in a kick, and I stagger to the side, my ribs aching fiercely. Clenching my jaw against the pain, I regroup, filtering out the excess and sharpening my focus on what counts—my opponents. Wade’s next swing doesn’t even come near me as I leap back, avoiding Danica’s next attack just as fast.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I taunt, grinning viciously.
Danica’s unspoken answer is to bring her blades in close to her body and spin at me with a flying kick that hits my middle so hard I skid backward through the dirt. The impact of her foot ejects all the air from me, and I can’t breathe, a howling ache in my abdomen almost making me double over and vomit. She lands, still turning, and swings at me as Wade lunges in with a downward strike to match hers.
Sensing their imminent win as sharply as the pain in my stomach, I react on pure instinct and speed up with a second thunderclap, louder than the first. I move so fast I don’t even see or comprehend my own retaliation until the flurry of hits and ringing steel suddenly stops, and I have to pull up short or else run my blade straight through Danica’s chest.
I back off, my eyes widening. Neither of them holds a weapon anymore. “Sorry.”
She shrugs, smiling. “No one’s dead. We’re all good.”
I huff a laugh, then see the blood pouring down Wade’s arm and sober. “Did I do that?”
“I’ll be fine. You’re a terrifying small person, though.” His smile reaches his eyes, so I believe him—about both things—and turn my attention to my next match.
I want to get started before my speed and focus wither like the autumn leaves around us. Momentum can be a real problem for me. Even if I can find it, I often can’t keep it.
Wade heads back toward the lake with Danica, who’s fussing over his injured shoulder, and Kellan and Maia step forward to take their place. They’ll be harder to beat, and I’ve barely had time to breathe, but both disadvantages will keep me motivated. These two are usually right and left wing to the Dragon King, always fastest to the pillars—and they keep their balance. That means they’re the best of us, but I’m up for the challenge.
Maia comes in swinging so fast her blade is a metallic smear. Just a quick break from fighting drained the sharpest of my focus, and I have to build up speed and intensity again. She swings nonstop and knocks one blade out of my hand. I ignore the vibration ringing painfully up my arm and scurry after my lost sword while barely defending my fleeing backside. I pick up the blade on the run and spin to face her.
Do better. My mind supplies Bale’s voice in my head, and I strike back hard, making Maia back away this time. I accelerate with whirlwind precision, soon getting in as many hits as Maia does.
Kellan hangs back, barely engaging, but Maia fights like the powerful warrior she is, in skin or scales. He’s moping—or else afraid I’m incapable and frail—so I’m glad she’s hammering at me like this. It’s exactly what forces me to battle back hard.
I fight Maia off enough for a break from her relentless attacks. As she shakes off my kick to the outer thigh that leaves her struggling for balance, I whirl and turn my full violence on Kellan. He’s not playing the game, so he needs to quit the field.
Snarling, I lunge, forcing him to at least defend himself. He increases his speed and the strength of his hits, but it’s not enough. I disarm him and kick him away from me before I mockingly let down my guard and show him how he’s been acting—useless. His nostrils flare.
Keeping an eye on Maia, I say, “That was pathetic. Don’t do that again.”
Kellan’s face reddens. “You were just unconscious for five days.”
“So?” My brows fly up.
“So maybe I don’t like beating on you right after that.”
“That’s your job,” I snap.
“That is not my job,” he snaps back. “We defend each other.”
“This is training to do just that!”
“I concur,” Bale growls, stepping between us. He turns a dark glare on Kellan. “Gather your warbirds and go home.”
