by K.S. Marsden
*****
“Bring Sophie out into the yard, James.” Hunter ordered, shrugging a light jacket on.
Hunter made his way into the courtyard at the rear of the house, the smooth square open on one side to the fields beyond where high grass browned in the weak summer sun. He gently dropped the bag he was carrying and knelt down to open in, sorting through the necessary tools of training it contained.
Hunter rose at the sound of footsteps behind him as James and Sophie came obediently to meet him. It had been five days since the attack at Brian’s house and although misleadingly upbeat, Sophie still showed the physical marks of the tragedy, her skin coloured with bruises and her shoulder thickly padded with bandages. But hurt or not, Hunter wanted to waste no time - he’d already waited these five days with impatience.
“All right Sophie, I need to know what Brian managed to teach you about attack and defence.” Hunter said seriously. He held out a small dull object which Sophie took gingerly.
“It may seem brutal, but guns are our main weapons.” Hunter said in response to her reaction, then bit his tongue, fearing to sound too apologetic. There was nothing to be sorry about, violent witches had to be killed, and was there a more efficient method?
“I want an idea of your aim. Now,” Hunter pointed out across the field, about 100 yards away a wooden board stood, targets painted in fading colours. “Aim and fire.”
Sophie glanced at both men with a moment’s uncertainty, then took a deep breath and did as she was bid. The gun went off with a mighty crack that reverberated about the courtyard and made Sophie jump.
Hunter ignored her, his sharp eyes watching the bullet miss the entire board. “Don’t rush. Later, when a witch is charging you down with spells blazing - that is when you are permitted to rush. But here and now I want accuracy, not speed. Try again.”
Sophie scowled at Hunter’s little criticizing speech, but said nothing in return. She raised the gun again, and altered her aim, taking her time, focusing on a spot slightly lower, as Brian had taught her.
She fired again. This time there was a satisfying ‘thuck’ as the bullet embedded itself in the board, just off the target.
“Better, again.” Hunter simply said.
Sophie repeated the process, making her corrections to aim. The third bullet hit the target dead centre. She almost smiled and tilted her head in an arrogant pose. Hunter still ignored her.
“Perfect.” He commented. “Again.”
Sophie frowned but continued, firing until the chamber was empty and her ears were ringing.
“Not too bad, I suppose.” Hunter admitted. “But I want you to practise daily. I’m sure James can give you extra tuition if you find you need it.”
Hunter’s comment made James redden and Sophie scowl, but he just smiled in a knowing manner.
“Right, James help Sophie into a vest.” Hunter said, pulling the black stab jacket out of the bag and tossing it to James while he retrieved two tapered poles.
James caught it clumsily, hesitating. “You’re - you’re gonna make her fight?”
“How else am I to assess her abilities?”
James opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He reluctantly took the vest and held it up for Sophie to shrug into, then fitted it snugly about her slim figure.
Sophie ignored James’ lingering hands on her waist and took one of the tapered poles from Hunter, it was about a foot long and made of smooth, solid wood. She looked up at Hunter, her expression giving nothing away.
“Now, until you learn to handle yourself properly, it’s safer using these, if you manage to improve, we’ll move onto real knives.” Hunter instructed. “So, take first position as Brian taught you, and attack me as though I were a witch.”
Sophie remained still. “You’re not going to put on a vest?”
“You won’t hit me.” Hunter replied condescendingly. “First position, if you please Miss Murphy.”
Sophie bit her tongue and prepared, pole raised, her balance evenly placed over both feet and flexible.
“And attack.” Hunter ordered.
Sophie lunged forward, driving the tapered point of the pole at Hunter’s chest. Faster than she could follow, her pole was knocked aside with a stinging crack and Hunter was off to a side, his pole an inch from her ribs. Sophie caught her breath and stared at him in amazement.
“How…?”
“Seventh generation.” Hunter replied shortly. “You were too slow, even for a first gen. Try again. First position, and attack.”
Sophie threw herself into the movement with all her strength, but again her pole was knocked aside and Hunter’s was hovering at her neck. This time he was frowning.
“Too erratic. You need to be fast, accurate, or you’re dead.” Hunter wiped his face with his hand, as though trying to rub a growing headache out of his forehead. “Great. Right, back to basics.”
They spent the next hour going through every position and motion, repeating again and again, Hunter correcting every minor flaw, accepting nothing but perfection. Sometimes he pulled James in to model and practise a succession of moves.
Eventually Hunter was happy enough to allow practise bouts again. He stood across from Sophie, whose face was already paling with the hint of exhaustion. They came to, this time Sophie moved correctly and there was the attack, parry, attack, parry, with the clacking rhythm of a violent dance. But Sophie slipped up and Hunter got past her guard, barely stopping his pole from jabbing her hip.
“Again.” He demanded.
They came to again and again, each time Sophie fighting more desperately, each time she slipped up Hunter’s patience shortened and he began to tap her harder with the pole, until he snapped at her incompetence and hit her harder than he meant to.
Sophie shouted in pain and shock and Hunter dropped his pole, eyes wide in self-disgust, but no apology reached his lips.
“Hunter!” James stepped in, angry with his friend, protective of Sophie. “Come on, that’s enough for today, she’s knackered. You ‘ad no right to hit her, she’s still hurt.”
“She’s got to learn.” Hunter replied quietly, stooping to collect his pole from the ground.
“That’s no reason -”
“James! I don’t need your pity nor protection.” Sophie interrupted sharply. She glanced at Hunter. “Again.”
Hunter looked guiltily into that usually pale face that was now flushed with pain and exertion. “Look Sophie, if you’re hurt, maybe…”
“I’m not in pain, I’m…” Sophie sighed, her annoyance clear and moved into first position, she spoke in a low and determined voice. “Again.”
Hunter reluctantly raised his pole and nodded. Again there was the crack of wood on wood as they parried and pushed and circled. An aura of determination emanated from Sophie. She gave a great shout of rage as she attacked and her pole passed through Hunter’s block and graze his elbow.
Hunter stepped back and looked at her in surprise. He hadn’t been holding back - not much anyway - it was a rare person that could land even the slightest blow on him.
“That’s better.” He conceded. “Let’s call it a day. James can be your practise partner for the rest of the week.”
Sophie pushed back her dark hair, damp with sweat, still breathing heavily she flashed a victorious smile at James who couldn’t take his eyes off her.