“Ha! Not a chance. If the masters wanted you to know where we were, they would have told you. You can suffer with not knowing, just like the rest of the first-degree recruits. Now, quit stalling. We’ve got a fight to do.”
Theo followed Cierra’s patterns. His eyes narrowed, as he tried to remember the important lessons Hojae had taught him. There were so many things to remember: footing, stance, situational awareness. He ticked them off one by one in his mind. Hojae had assured him that eventually it would all come naturally, as his body gained muscle memory. It was just going to take time. Cierra looked over her shield and tried to lure him into range. Theo saw an opening. Excitedly, he stepped forward with his arm cranked back, ready to strike.
His blow was cut short. Cierra hit him directly in the face with a thrust that pushed the grille into his nose. Theo staggered backwards. He wasn’t expecting her to exert so much force. The impact didn’t break the skin. His pride, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky.
Cherish tilted her head to the side. “You seem to have issues with concentration.”
Theo retreated and leaned against his weapon. The wooden point dug into the ground. His eyes narrowed angrily at Cierra. “Let’s go again.”
The two women exchanged a glance. Cherish tried to soften her voice. “Would you like to sit down for a while? You’ve stressed yourself to the point where you can’t focus on the fight anymore. An advanced swordsman will know how to take advantage of your problem. I’ve seen skilled sword fighters allow their opponents to wear themselves out to the point of exhaustion. Then they close in for the kill. Maybe you should take a break and regroup your thoughts.”
“No!” Theo snapped at her in frustration. “I am perfectly able to handle myself.” He was still breathing hard from the workout. His body dripped with sweat. He knew he was only frustrated with himself. It was making him lash out at the others even though they were only trying to help. Even though he realized the source of his frustration, he was unable to restrain his temper.
“Fine.” Cherish placed her hands on her hips curtly. “Make ready, and prepare.” Cierra raised her shield at the command.
Theo faced off against her one more time. He was determined not to appear to be a fool this time. She might be able to hit him with a thrust but, this time, Cierra would pay for her victory. Theo intended to inflict as much damage as possible, before he went down. No more one-shots. This fight was going to be a fight for the record books.
He watched as Cierra struck her own shield hard with the wooden sword. It made a loud crack that echoed around the training field.
The space was theirs. Although there were other Carbonari students who were learning the way of the blade, the Brotherhood wouldn’t allow him to train with them. Theo was considered too new. The group classes were only for the advanced students who’d taken the third degree. Even though that was the reason they gave him to keep him separate from the rest of the recruits, Theo was certain the unspoken reason was because the trainers didn’t trust him yet.
Theo rushed at Cierra, and tried a surprise attack. She rolled out of it, and left him alone. Theo pulled back. He realized Cierra could’ve hit him with ease. She’d allowed him to continue, just to see what Theo might do. The realization fueled the anger, bellowing in his belly.
He cranked his sword arm back, ready to strike with all of his remaining strength reserves. Then, it occurred to Theo that was exactly what Cierra expected. He backed up a bit and tried to see through her plan of action. Theo realized her slight shield drop was only to lure him into position. This was one of the “fakes” that Hojae had told him to watch out for today. Theo hadn’t known anything about the ranking system among the Carbonari sword fighters. Judging by what he was seeing now, Cierra must have been one of the higher ones.
He decided to try a pattern of strikes against her. By now, Theo realized the first blow wasn’t usually the one that hit the target. The first blow might instead be used to set up another one. It could force the opponent into a vulnerable position. He decided to try a combination of three different strikes, and see what worked.
Theo rushed in again. He fired one blow across her body. It was strategically aimed at an opening he saw in Cierra’s defense. She blocked that one with her shield. He bent the sword’s momentum. It was propelled over his face, right at her arm. When Cierra moved out of the way, Theo whipped the blow up, on a direct path to her helm.
He sucked in a breath, anticipating his victory, but Cierra ducked under the blow. Theo’s wooden sword flew over the space where Cierra’s head had been and kept going. This time, the speed of his strike was so great that the practice sword flew out of his hand. It landed on the ground, bouncing end over end. He stared at his weapon, dumbfoundedly. Disarmed, Theo stood there, and tried not to show his frustration.
The inner voice that always doubted him whispered that, once again, he had failed. It occurred to him that maybe his aggravation was linked to more than just the sparring. If he couldn’t even wield a wooden sword effectively, how could he have ever thought that he could have protected his family? He couldn’t fight now, and he couldn’t have saved Mari and the kids then.
“Don’t you two have better things to do than waste your time here?” Makram’s voice boomed from behind Theo. He was jolted back to the present. Theo looked around. Makram was sitting on a stone bench. In the heat of training, Theo hadn’t even heard Makram arrive. Hojae would have no doubt berated him for not being more aware of his surroundings.
“We need to get Theo up to speed.” Cierra’s voice was muffled through her helm. “The Grand Council wants him along on the next mission. I can’t have him there with us if he’ll be killed the first time out.” Her words stung the remaining slivers of Theo’s pride, but he said nothing.
“I’d worry more about the rest of the team,” Makram snorted. “Are you serious? Does the council really want us to take a newbie along the next time? Holy Batumah, this one didn’t hold a sword until last week. It sounds like a suicide mission. Having him along will get all of us killed.”
Cherish tossed her head towards him. Her tone made it obvious that she was tired of listening to his negativity. “Oh, shut up, Makram. You’re just pissed because you’re going to be the one in charge. You don’t want the responsibility of an inexperienced brother messing up your spotless record.”
“Excuse me? Did you say Makram is in charge of the team?” Cierra crossed her arms, over her chest indignantly.
“Orders came through this morning,” Cherish answered. “Go down to the main hall, have a look at the duty roster. He’s officially the commander of Strike Force Retaliation. I thought you knew.”
Cierra was speechless. She ground her teeth. Sarcasm coated her words. “Now, this is funny. Mr. Perfect finally gets a job with responsibility, and it’s over this mess.” She gestured to Theo, who was still standing awkwardly without his sword. “Guess you pissed off the wrong senior brother.”
“I think it had more to do with his recommendation of me as the next commander.” Cherish watched, as Makram flinched. “Yeah, I bet you didn’t think I’d find out about that one. Thanks for trying to throw me under the bus.”
“So, who is sub-commander?” Cierra pulled off her helm, and set it on the ground.
Cherish grinned mischievously, but Theo thought he detected a hint of pride as well. “You did such a good job last time, they’re letting you keep that position.”
“Oh, this is wonderful,” Cierra rolled her eyes. Her words were dripping with thinly-veiled scorn. “I get to serve under Brother Makram.”
Makram raised his eyebrow at her, pointedly. “If it’s any help, I’m not thrilled about this relationship, either. Guess we’ll have to make the best of it.”
All the while, Theo stood there in silence. He tried to figure out where he fit into the current arrangement. How was he going to be able to support the rest of the group? He’d yet to learn the basics of swordplay. He couldn’t blame them for seeing him
as holding them back. If anything, it probably felt like a babysitting job to them.
“The problem with Theo,” Makram said, as he got up from the bench, “is that he’s spent too much time on the essentials.” Theo noticed there was a helm on the bench next to Makram. Something about the cockiness in the new commander’s gait made Theo wary.
“I think Theo needs some advanced training. I’d like to see what he’s got. I might have to count on him as back-up in a real scenario.” Makram slapped the helm onto his head and secured it in place. Even with the helm on, Theo could see the taunting look in Makram’s eyes.
Cherish was immediately on edge. She stepped forward to block his path. “Makram, I think you’re going too far. I don’t need him injured, if that’s what you have in mind.”
“Relax.” Makram waved her off. “I promise not to hurt the puppy, alright? Can’t have a green recruit damaged this early in training. I just want to see what he’s got inside, before I have to count on him.” Theo noted that Makram wore a full set of practice armor. He’d come ready to play.
Cierra caught Theo’s eye. She jerked her head towards the ground a few feet away. He followed her gaze to his abandoned practice sword. Theo started to walk towards it. Makram saw what he was going for, and quickly changed the plan.
Makram raised his voice to stop Theo from picking up the wooden sword. “You know what? Let’s not use these fake weapons. I think you should learn with live metal, because you’ll have to rely on it on the battlefield. You might as well get a feel for the real thing.”
Makram reached down below the bench he had been sitting on, and pulled up two metal bastard swords. Each was forty inches in length, and had a ricasso grip above the cross guards. The grip extended four inches above the guard. They were a matched set, built for tournaments. He tossed one of the swords on the ground at Theo. Theo kept his eyes locked on Makram as he squatted down to pick it up. The sword felt heavy and awkward in his hand. Theo tossed his shield over on top of his practice sword. He gave a few sweeping swings with the new blade. Soon, his hands were accustomed to the new weight. It was a solid sword. Though it appeared rough on first glance, Theo noticed that it was actually well balanced.
“That’s an infintium blade! Why are you giving him one of those?” Cierra cried out in concern as she recognized the metal.
Makram dropped his blade into a low guard and faced off with Theo. “Relax. They’re not edged. Do you think I’m stupid enough to use a sharp blade against a new recruit? I don’t need to lose a hand just because someone panicked.” He slowly moved into range against Theo.
“Hojae show you how to use one of these, kid?” Makram kept his blade at the ready. Theo could feel Makram’s crooked smile behind his helm.
“A few times.” Theo answered quickly, but then embarrassedly amended his reply. “With wooden ones.”
“Time to swim in the deep end. Oh, and watch out for the sharks.” He snickered at the new recruit.
Makram was close to Theo’s size and age, but he held the sword with experience. It was as if the blade was an old companion, or an extension of himself. Theo knew Makram’s entire strategy was to humiliate him. He tried hard to remember everything Hojae told him, about fighting with one of these weapons. Don’t walk into a trap. It’s not hard, and it’s not magic. Pay attention. Every blow has to have a defense built into it, and every defense needs to have a blow ready to fire back.
He watched as Makram brought his sword up, and aimed the tip at Theo’s face. It was obvious to Theo what his opponent wanted to do: make him concentrate on the point. Theo remembered enough to focus on the position of the blade, and the man who wielded it. Hojae said that he could tell a lot about a man by the way he stood and held the blade. It would be a long time before Theo was as proficient at reading his opponents as Hojae was, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t try.
Makram slammed his blade against Theo’s. Sparks flew when the metal collided. The force of the attack was enough to push Theo’s blade out of his defensive line. However, he leapt back the instant Makram swung down at Theo’s leg. If it had connected, Theo was certain that the blade would have at least left a large lump on his shin. That was if it hadn’t fractured the bone. Makram wasn’t holding back. The new commander jumped back as well. He stared at Theo. He hadn’t expected the recruit to be able to dodge his swing. It seemed that Theo had absorbed enough training to keep himself away from an obvious strike.
“Not bad, junior,” Makram sneered. “I see you did learn a few things from our four-armed comrade. Perhaps you’d like a turn.” Makram stepped back, and held the sword with one hand. He extended his free arm out to one side, to make it seem useless. The hand that held the sword moved to a forty-five-degree angle from the plane of Makram’s body. The stance was designed to make him seem open: an easy target.
Theo knew better. He leapt at Makram. He struck down hard against Makram’s sword with his own blade. A split second before impact, Makram snapped his hand onto the hilt of the sword and brought it over Theo’s blow. With both hands on the hilt, Makram powered it down on Theo’s right shoulder.
Somehow, Theo pulled his body out of the way at the last possible moment. The dull blade struck, but the blow glanced off its target. A direct one would’ve broken Theo’s collarbone. The strike sent excruciating pain down Theo’s right arm. Theo pulled back, and managed to keep his guard up. He set his teeth to block the pain from overwhelming him.
Makram taunted him. He swirled his blade around in his hand. “See what happens? You slip up, you get hit. Think about what might’ve happened against three Yasta monks with sharp blades. You’d have lost your arm and bled to death.”
“Makram, that’s enough!” Cierra called out sternly to him. She’d been quiet, so far, but if it went on much longer, Theo could be badly hurt.
“Shut up,” Makram growled at her. “I’m giving your brother-in-law an important lesson. You want him to stay alive?”
“I don’t want him broken before his first time out!”
Makram turned to Theo. “Want to try some more?”
“Let’s do this.” Theo nodded. He wasn’t about to show weakness in front of Makram. He had a feeling that he would never live it down if he did.
Makram went back into his guard. “Seems like he’s got some guts, Cierra. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get them spilled all over the ground.”
“More guts than sense, if you ask me.” Cierra mumbled from the side of the training field.
This time, Theo timed his attack right. He ran in at his opponent. Theo swooped in with his hilt held in a high guard. He brought it over Makram’s sword blade. Before Makram could parry, Theo pulled his blade under Makram’s sword. Now, Makram’s head was open.
With four inches to the target, Theo rocked his sword blade into the side of Makram’s helm. Sparks flew. Theo felt Makram’s head move out of line. Theo jumped back to see the effect of his strike. Pride mixed with fear. He may have landed a blow, but was it worth risking Makram’s wrath? Theo had a feeling that he wasn’t the kind of man to leave his grudges at the edge of the practice field. Makram was quickly back in a guard, but Theo could see the dent he had made in Makram’s helm. He sensed the pain in Makram’s eyes. At last, he’d made it count, even if he had incurred Makram’s rancor in the process.
“Hey, guys! Playtime is over. Hubard wants everyone at the main conference room, right away.” Theo glanced to the side of the field near Cierra to see who had spoken to them. Kurga was waiving them over.
Next to the big humanoid stood Rix, the robot. Theo knew they’d watched the fight between him and Makram. He knew they’d intervened at the right minute. Theo had no doubt that the new commander would have struck out with fury to reclaim his pride if no one had stepped in. He also had no doubt that he would have ended up in the medical ward because of it. Makram might be able to ignore the women, but now there were two other witnesses. If he seriously hurt Theo, it wouldn’t go well with the Carbonari leadersh
ip.
Theo watched, as his opponent lowered the sword. While Makram glared at Theo, Cherish walked over to them. She gently took the blade from Makram. Cierra went to Theo. She carefully tugged his blade away from him. Both men removed their helms. They continued to stare at each other. Makram looked down at his helm. He fingered the dent on the side of it while he decided how he was going to react. He was the commander now, after all. How he responded to situations like the one they were in could make or break his team’s trust in him.
“Not bad,” Makram lifted his eyes back to Theo’s face, while he spoke, “for an inexperienced fighter. You sucker-punched me when I wasn’t focused. Guess I had it coming. Keep in mind that you won’t be so lucky the next time.”
Theo nodded slowly. He still hadn’t blinked, on the off chance that Makram was thinking about trying anything. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ll tell the quartermaster they need to get better helms out here.” Walked over to the bench and set his dented helm down. “Someone could get seriously hurt using these low-grade ones. Tell Hubard I’ll be along after I’m changed.” He turned his back on Theo, and then marched off to the practice hall to dress out.
“It’s because they’re not supposed to be used with live metal.” Cherish grumbled, and shook her head, as he walked away.
“What was his problem?” Kurga squinted after Makram’s retreating figure. He was a good seven feet tall, and covered in white hair.
“The sparring didn’t go the way he planned it.” Cierra turned to Theo. Her voice was somber. “Makram blames you for Yareck’s death. He’ll never admit it, though.” Theo stopped in his tracks. Yareck, the team leader on the Carristoux raid, had never made it back with the others. Now, not only did Makram have to deal with the loss of his friend and teammate, he was also filling his position as commander. Theo felt a small pang of sympathy towards his new leader, as he tried to stuff Makram’s anger towards him into a corner of his mind, where it couldn’t distract him.
The Relissarium Wars Omnibus Page 8