Sword Training 1

“Here beginneth the first lesson,” Kallist said pompously, a twinkle in his eye. “You ready?”

“More than,” Jace hissed through gritted teeth. “You’re going down, Kallist.”

“Only if I bust a gut laughing at you, Jace.”

“That was the plan, actually.”

It wasn’t quite the first time Jace had handled a sword, and he’d wielded both sticks and knives defending himself in his younger years, so at least he didn’t come across as ragingly incompetent. In fact, he managed to parry two of Kallist’s attacks, the clack of wood on wood echoing through the chamber, before pain and the beginning stages of a truly magnificent bruise blossomed across his left side.

Several of the observers winced in sympathy as the wood slammed home.

Kallist stepped in and extended a hand to help Jace back to his feet. “So,” he began, demonstrating a grip, then reaching out again to correct Jace’s attempt at imitation, “here’s why you missed that parry …”

There passed a few moments of discussion and demonstration (and bored shifting by the gathered audience), followed by another quick exchange of blows, and another ugly bruise for Jace. And again. And again.

And again.

But as the second hour of practice wound to a close, and Jace’s lungs burned as badly as his sides, fewer and fewer of Kallist’s strikes landed. True, he was using only the simplest techniques, and they were running at roughly half speed, but Jace was, at least, learning something.

***

Agents of Artifice, Chapter 11