by Craig Zerf
The dojo was vast. Big enough for at least sixty plus people to train comfortably. The seven Shadowhunters looked lost in the huge open space.
‘Why is it so big?’ Emily asked Bastian, who had shown her to the dojo after fetching her from her room.
‘Times gone by there used to be many more Shadowhunters,’ he answered.
‘Where have they gone?’
Bastian shrugged. ‘Depends on your belief system, I suppose. If you’re a Buddhist, reborn. Christian, heaven. Muslim, resurrection. Me, I believe in Zion.’
‘Hold on,’ said Emily. ‘You mean that they’re all dead?’
‘As the Dodo,’ confirmed Bastian.
‘How?’
‘It’s one of those side effects you get when you spend your whole time fighting almost unkillable undead beings with fangs and claws. A lot of us end up underground in wooden boxes.’
‘But aren’t we supposed to be like superfast and megastrong?’
Bastian raised an eyebrow. ‘You ever seen a vamp?’
Emily shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘That would be a no then,’ confirmed the Ratsa. ‘You would remember if you had. Well, we’re fast and strong but they is faster. Maybe not stronger but close. Also they heal real quick. I mean, so do we but they heal almost instantaneously. Makes them damn hard to kill.’
‘So what’s the point then?’ Asked Emily. ‘How can we beat them?’
Bastian grinned. ‘We train. They may be quicker but we’re meaner. We got skills, girl. And we got weapons. Silver edged swords, silver bullets, lots of firepower. Come on, train with me first, then you can spend a bit of time with Piet, he’s number one with bladed weapons.’
Emily followed the Rasta to a sparring mat on the side of the dojo, a standard twenty six foot by twenty six foot.
‘Right,’ said Bastian. ‘Let’s fight.’
Emily bowed and then assumed a standard Bow Stance or Gong Bu, leading leg in front and slightly bent, trailing foot angled at a forty five degree angle.
It was a great stance for attacking. The structure of it allowing her to punch with greater power by driving the rear leg into the ground as well as ensuring that her rear leg could be quickly drawn forward for kicking attacks.
She waited for Bastian to assume a position before she started. But to her surprise he didn’t. Instead he danced from side to side in front of her, his body position low, arms weaving a pattern in front of his chest as he moved. It was hypnotic. A snake charmer’s flute to a cobra.
Then he rolled and jumped up, swinging his foot in a circle and cracking it alongside Emily’s head. She rocked sideways as the blow landed and then she swept her leading foot forwards in an attempt to unbalance him. But he was no longer there as he danced away, spinning and rolling. A constantly moving target.
Again he spun and struck, his foot connecting with Emily’s knee, sending her crashing to the floor.
She rolled away and flicked her legs, springing back onto her feet as she did. Bastian danced sideways, tucking and rolling and jumping as he did.
Emily shook her head and then crouched low, assuming the stance of the Tiger, her hands clawed in front of her, muscles relaxed as she prepared for explosive power.
She knew that she had to stop Bastian moving. Somehow she had to get hold of him and then strike hard and fast as soon as she did.
Bastian noted her change of tactic and nodded his approval.
And then he blurred into movement, legs sweeping, fists striking, elbow and knees smashing into Emily as he spun around her at blinding speed.
She went down under a welter of blows and before she could pick herself up Bastian had her in a savage choke hold. Just before she blacked out, Bastian let go, stood up and helped her to her feet.
‘Breathe,’ he said.
Emily took a deep breath and then socked the Rasta on the shoulder. ‘What the hell? I thought that we were sparring. What’s with the whole kicking my butt thing?’
Bastian stared at her, his face deadly serious. ‘Emily,’ he said. ‘At the Olympus Foundation when we train, we don’t spar. We fight. Properly.’
‘Why?’
‘I assume that you have sparred before,’ countered Bastian.
‘Every day,’ admitted Emily.
‘Not to put too fine a point on it,’ continued Bastian. ‘But it didn’t do you much good, did it? I kicked your ass without even raising a sweat and I can see that you’re at least a first degree black belt. Plus the fact that you’re uber strong and fast.’
‘Yeah well you wouldn’t stand still. What’s with all the dancing?’
‘It’s called Capoeira,’ he answered. ‘It’s a fast and versatile martial art from Brazil. It was developed for fighting when you’re outnumbered or at a technological disadvantage.’ He somersaulted forward and flicked a kick over Emily’s head to demonstrate. ‘The style emphasizes using the lower body to kick, sweep and take down and the upper body to assist those movements as well as attacking. You use a series of complex positions and body postures which you chain together in an uninterrupted flow so that you can strike, dodge and move without breaking motion. Makes it seriously unpredictable. And when you’re fighting a bunch of Vamps you gotta keep moving ’cause those suckers are as quick as crap out of a goose. Come on, I’ll teach you.’
For the next four hours Bastian grilled Emily in the art of Capoeira, starting with the Ginga, a constant dancing motion that keeps the capoeirista in regular movement, making them a frustrating target for a forward-advancing opponent. Then he moved on to the various striking and defensive techniques, working her hard until her whole body was covered in ugly black bruises.
After four hours they all stopped for lunch, trooping off to the dining room where mountains of food awaited them. Breads, fruit, whole roasted chickens, rice, potatoes and pulses.
Nathan sat next to Emily and ensured that she had enough to eat and drink.
‘Bastian working you hard, I see.’
Emily nodded. ‘I look like I’ve been in a major automobile accident,’ she quipped. ‘I don’t think that there’s a square inch of my body that hasn’t got a bruise on it.’
‘There might be,’ interjected Lyle as he leered at Emily. ‘Perhaps you should strip down and I’ll check for you.’
‘Shut it, fat boy,’ growled Piet.
‘Up yours,’ grunted Lyle as he shoved a whole potato in his mouth.
‘Don’t worry about the physical damage,’ said Nathan. ‘We all heal up real quick. By tomorrow morning there won’t be a mark on you. In a few weeks time, once you’ve fully changed, the bruises will heal almost instantly. Even deep cuts and bone breaks will mend in minutes.’
‘Cool,’ responded Emily. ‘Will it still hurt like it does now?’
‘Like buggery,’ affirmed Nathan. ‘We heal but we still feel pain just like anyone else. Mind you, the density of our muscle makes it much harder to hurt us. You’ll find that something that would slice into a normal person will barely deliver more than a shallow cut.’
When they had finished eating they headed back to the dojo.
All accept for Lyle who stayed seated as he crammed another chicken down, followed by almost a gallon of freshly squeezed orange juice. Piet slapped the fat man on the back of his head as he walked past him but Lyle didn’t even react, so entranced was he by his food.
Bastian walked next to Emily. ‘For the rest of the day I want you to train with Piet,’ he said. ‘He’s the best when it comes to weapons. Blades, staffs, throwing stars, that type of thing.’
‘What about firearms?’
‘No. Karl is the firearms expert. You can spend time with him tomorrow.’
‘Okay. If you are the combat expert, Piet is the weapons guy and Karl is firearms – what is Josephine?’ Asked Emily.
‘Tech geek,’ answered Bastian. ‘I mean, she can fight pretty good but she’s beyond awesome when it comes to computers and such. You’ve gotta watch her though,’ he continued. ‘She�
��s a sandwich or two short of a picnic basket. Very emotional, goes off for everything and anything. So we try to keep her out of the field.’
‘And dare I ask what Lyle excels at?’
‘Strength. Bong belly boy is stronger than any two of us put together. Even Big Piet. I mean, Lyle is one of life’s genuine assholes but he’s good to have around in a fight. Like the hulk but without the green skin or the social graces.’
Emily grinned. ‘Fair enough.’
When they got back to the dojo she paired up with Piet. He started her with a Bo. A six foot long, heavy Red Oak staff that was held with two hands and used as a spear, a sword and a staff. Then they moved onto swords, especially the katana, a traditional Japanese Samurai weapon. After that they progressed to nunchuks, shuriken, throwing knives and sling shots.
Emily had trained with all of the weapons before but the South African Shadowhunter brought a level of skill and expertise to their handling that transcended normality. It was as if every weapon was an extension of him. Another appendage as opposed to a separate weapon.
After four hours with him she was ready to drop from exhaustion. Piet finally stopped, collected the weapons up and nodded his approval. ‘You’re good,’ he said. ‘Well done.’
‘I don’t feel good,’ returned Emily. ‘I feel clumsy and uncoordinated. Like a beginner.’
Piet laughed. A gruff sound more like a dog’s growl than an affirmation of amusement. ‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘Right now, you are superior to any other human being in the world.’
‘What about you?’ Questioned Emily. ‘And the other Shadowhunters? And the vamps?’
‘I said Human Beings,’ answered Piet as he turned away. ‘Now come on, let’s go and eat.’
Chapter 7