49. Throw Down Your Weapons
SOUNDTRACK: Mother Theresa by Barnes Courtney
~ GRACE ~
I stood on a small, grassy area at the top of the launch hollow, in the fading evening light, frowning at a tree fifteen paces away. My squad lieutenant, Gil, stood at my side, his arms folded, also frowning at the tree. Bren stood at my other side, hands on her hips and her head tilted slightly.
“Is that how it’s supposed to be?” I asked breathlessly, staring at the blade buried in the tree trunk, piercing through a broad, flat leaf that Gil had tied to the bark, the handle quivering because it had come to such a sudden stop.
“Yes,” Gil said, rubbing his chin with one hand. “That’s very good actually.”
As he strode off to the tree, Bren leaned into my ear. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“I didn’t,” I said. “Voski told me that you can throw knives as a weapon, so I asked if I could be trained because I don’t like to fight and I think I need to use weapons.”
Bren snorted. “Looks like that was a good call. If any of the guys get grabby, just bury a blade between their legs—from a distance.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“I was joking, Grace,” she laughed.
I grimaced, because I would have known that if I’d just thought about it. I shook my head. “I’m always in such a panic to not look like an idiot, I appear to be the very idiot I’m avoiding,” I muttered.
“Don’t worry, that just means you’ll fit right in,” Bren said with a wicked grin at Gil, who’d yanked the knife out of the tree.
“Your turn, Bren!” he called as he walked back to us.
She nodded and took the stance as he’d shown us, inhaled and exhaled, hand on the hilt of the blade sheathed at her waist. When Gil was next to me again, she nodded, exhaled once more, then slipped the blade from the sheath and let fly.
Her blade flew true, but finished just short of the edge of the leaf. And it quivered more because the blade wasn’t buried as deeply as mine had been.
“Shit,” she muttered.
“That’s good,” Gil said.
Bren looked at him sideways. “Do not patronize me.”
“I’m not. You’ve got the eye. Don’t compare. Grace is a born assassin, I think.”
I giggled, thinking he was teasing her, but they both looked at me blankly, and the laughter died in my throat. “I thought it was a joke?”
Bren shook her head, though she was smiling.
My jaw dropped. “I’m not an assassin! I don’t want to kill people! I just want to be able to protect myself—I mean, unless they’re trying to kill me. Or my friends. Or, I suppose, if there’s war or…”
Gil huffed. “I’ll talk to the Quartermaster about getting each of you a real set of throwing knives. I think that would be a better investment in your training than the sparring—”
A dragon called, and we all looked up to see the gleaming body of Kham coming in to land at the launch hollow.
My heart trilled. Kham looked so beautiful in the sunlight, but the dark shadow with broad shoulders and glittering eyes, hunched between his wing ridges, sent my pulse and nerves through the roof. I hadn’t seen Voski since the afternoon before when I’d found him out in the forest.
He’d apologized for being so angry with me then, but I wasn’t sure if he’d still feel that way now that he’d had time to think about it.
“Hey, bro—come show the girls how it’s done!” Gil called, as Voski slid down the mounting strap. He turned and raised a hand, but he didn’t smile.
“It’s really not necessary!” I whispered quickly. “He probably doesn’t want—”
Gil shot me a strange look that shut my mouth quick. “Voski is one of our best trainers. He’s going to have a lot to do with getting you ready for your testing, Grace. And happy to do so. It’s what we do for Flameborne. You don’t need to worry.”
I nodded, but my nerves trilled. I felt Bren watching me, but she didn’t say anything. And I couldn’t take my eyes off Voski, who’d removed Kham’s harness in a blink.
Koa called to Kham from the stable. The golden dragon danced, and screamed, tossing his head until the moment Voski dragged the harness off, then he galloped up the other side of the launch hollow and into the stable, sending stableboys running to get out of his way.
I could feel Koa’s joy at the anticipated reunion, and it made my heart race. I instinctively turned back to Voski, something trilling in my chest. But the sight of him trudging up the launch slope quickly squashed that.
When he reached us, he clasped hands with Gil and they slapped each other’s back. Bren smiled and I stood just behind her, watching him.
“Evening, Bren, Grace,” he said quietly. His eyes caught on my mine for a blink, but before I could greet him back, he’d turned back to Gil. “You said someone needs schooling?”
“Hey!” Bren laughed. Gil snorted.
“Grace here is a natural. You’re better at this than me. I thought it would be good for them to see your form. They both want to learn to throw.”
Voski nodded and his expression didn’t change, but he moved stiffly as he shifted position to face the tree—several paces further away from the tree than we’d been.
Bren and I backed away, so we weren’t in his way. My belly fluttered, because for once I had an excuse to just watch him. And he wasn’t angry.
All the men here moved with that easy grace and confidence that came with strength and certainty in their own abilities. But Voski had a savage grace the other lacked. He was leaner than Gil, though still very broad-shouldered and strong. He was a prowling mountain lion to Gil’s proud stallion.
The comparison made my heart thud.
Voski checked his feet, positioning them shoulder-width apart, one slightly ahead of the other as Gil had shown Bren and me, then raised his head and stared at the leaf on the trunk, hands loose at his sides.
Where Bren and I had raised our free hands toward the target to assist with aim, then used it to counterbalance the movement of the throw, Voski simply stood.
“Who hit the center?” he asked casually.
“Grace,” Gil said and there was a strange undercurrent to his tone.
Voski’s brows rose and he pursed his lips, nodding. “Interesting.”
“I thought so.”
“We stood much closer,” I said, looking at Bren. But her brows were high, looking back and forth between the two men, so it was clear she didn’t understand the subtext, either.
“Does he—” I started to whisper to Bren but cut off as Voski twitched. I didn’t know how else to describe the spasm of movement. There was so little to it, at first I thought he was simply loosening muscles, or preparing for the throw. Yet, in a blink, the tree rang with a thunk, thunk-thunk.
Gil cursed and Bren’s mouth dropped open.
Voski’s body had barely moved, though I’d caught the blur of his arms, but now there were three knives quivering in the bark.
One precisely at the sharp tip of the leaf, the other two pinning the bottom corners, just below where Gil had wrapped it with twine to keep it on the tree.
“How did you do that?” Bren breathed.
Voski frowned one second longer at the knives, then patted a hand to his lower abdomen. “Your power isn’t in your arms, it’s in your hips. Don’t try to throw hard—use your body to… well, come here and have a try. Show me what you’re doing.”
“You did three though!” I blurted.
Voski’s eyes slid slowly—reluctantly?—to meet mine as Bren trotted over. “Practice,” he said. “The more you practice, you’ll find the best positions for your blades where you can use the follow through to grab a second blade and wind up to the next.”
I looked at him, but apart from the harness blade the Furyknights all wore at their hips, I didn’t see any sheaths on him.
“But…”
Bren had already reached Voski, who urged her to take her stance and draw her knife without throwing, while he watched. Gil murmured to me to join them. And before long, the trunk of the tree was thunking irregularly with our throws.
I’d just managed to pierce the center of the leaf again when warm breath fluttered at my neck and goosebumps rushed in a wave down my arm, which I’d left extended because he told me to freeze at the end of the throw.
“See, you’ve got natural aim, so don’t even think about it. Just do what your body tells you about direction. Your problem’s going to be power. You’re already losing strength with the few extra feet standing back here. You’re capable of throwing effectively at twice this distance.”
I was about to argue, but then Voski slipped in front of me as Gil jogged to the tree and grabbed our blades to bring them back.
Voski was so tall, he blocked my view. I swallowed before looking up at him.
Our eyes locked.
“You’re waiting too long to release. Over-extending.” He reached out, pressing fingertips against each of my shoulders until they were straight. “Your shoulders should be square to the target when that knife leaves your fingers.”
“But, I have to throw.”
He nodded. “Stop seeing your arm as the source of your power—you’ll end up hurting your shoulder.” He stepped to the side, but leaned in to look down the length of my arm like it was an arrow, then tsked. “Drop your arms and stand as you would before you throw.”
I did as he asked. “Now, think of it as if your hips and stomach are the propulsion of the rest.” Then he flattened a hand on my belly, just below my belt-buckle, and my breath rushed out of me as a thrill sizzled through my core and zipped into my lungs.
“No, no, not sucking in,” he muttered. “Brace here, like you’re preparing for me to punch you.”
I inhaled, then tightened my muscles as I would if I saw a blow coming and he nodded. “That’s it, now hold that. You should be able to hold that, and still breathe normally. You throw on the exhale.”
He looked up from where he touched me and our eyes locked.
He didn’t say anything, and for a moment, it turned out that I couldn’t breathe.
Then he cleared his throat. “And you face your target just like that,” he said quietly.
“Like what?”
“Not shrinking, not arrogant. Chin level. Shoulders square.” He stepped to my side and I frowned as he pointed for me to look at the leaf on the tree.
“Throw,” he said abruptly.
And, as if my body bent to his will, I did.
It felt different. Awkward. But solid. And the thunk was stronger this time
“Good,” he said, then stepped past me and went through the same process with Bren.
I’d smiled when he told me the throw was good, but deflated as he moved on without even looking at me.
I was angry with myself for the sinking feeling.
I’d wanted him not angry. I’d wanted him to treat me like a real Flameborne. And now he was.
So, why did it still hurt?
We practiced for another twenty minutes, but then Gil called a halt. “We’re losing too much light. Knives and darkness aren’t a good mix. Besides, it’s almost dinner.”
Voski, who’d been on my other side, watching our form, nodded and immediately started toward the stables on the other side of the launch hollow.
Gil returned the blades to Bren and me as he called after him. “Hey, are you sticking around? There’s a meeting—”
“I know. Kham came for me,” he said tonelessly, without turning around.
“I thought you didn’t have patrol for a couple more days?” I blurted, because something in my chest went tight that he was walking away without saying goodbye.
Bren looked at me, but Voski didn’t.
“I don’t. Meeting. Things to do. I’ll be gone again tomorrow.”
And then he took one glance over his shoulder to lock eyes with me, before walking away completely.
My breath left my body. He wasn’t angry, but it felt—
“What the hell was that?” Gil muttered.
And when I turned, both he and Bren were staring at me.
“What was what?” I asked nervously licking my lips and busying myself with sheathing the knife. I still wasn’t accustomed to having the thick leather on my belt, and had to look to put it away, unlike the others who seemed to know where it was instinctively.
“Grace… Did Voski—”
“Oh, it’s fine!” My voice was too high and I swallowed to clear my throat. “He’s just upset with me that I followed him again and—”
“Wait, what?!”
“Yesterday, when I went out to bathe. The dragons were out there and I could feel Koa, but I found him and he didn’t know I was there and—”
“You snuck up? On Voski?” Gil asked, shocked. “You followed him?”
“Yes. I know it’s not good. He was very angry. Again. I told him I was sorry—I didn’t realize he was hiding. I didn’t mean to frighten him. I thought—”
“You frightened him?”
“Well, he startled.”
Gil gaped and Bren laughed.
“What is it? I don’t understand?”
“I’m the one who doesn’t understand,” Gil spluttered. “I thought he was exaggerating. But you say you actually startled him? He didn’t know you were there?”
“No.”
“But… how?”
I couldn’t tell if Gil thought it was funny, or truly believed I’d done a terrible thing—laughing the way you would when a child was naughty. I glanced at Bren, but she just nodded for me to tell him.
“I can follow anyone. At least, anyone I’ve tried so far.”
Gil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re bragging.”
“She doesn’t brag,” Bren said, nudging him with her elbow.
“I’m not bragging,” I said carefully. “That’s how Koa chose me. I followed him into the woods. For hours. But at some point Kham caught wind of me.”
Gil turned to watch Voski, who was now far on the other side of the launch hollow and heading for the door into the stable.
“This I have to see.”
I shrugged. “Anyone can be followed if you’re patient and quiet enough.”
“Not Voski,” Gil snorted. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Perhaps you’re simply too heavy-footed?” I asked carefully.
Bren’s brows flew up and she jumped in as Gil stopped smiling.
“He’s not, Grace. I promise. Gil is excellent at these things—it’s just how it is between the brothers. You know? They get competitive and… well, Gil’s never been able to sneak up on Voski. I’d like to learn from you, if you don’t mind? Especially if you’re better at it than Gil.”
Gil shot her a glare, and Bren grinned.
“I’ll admit,” Gil said airily, “I’d like to see what you can do. How about a wager?”
“Oh, I don’t gamble,” I said.
Gil’s expression went flat.
“But I’d be happy to show you that I can, if that would help? Only, how do we do that without angering him? I don’t want to startle him again.”
“Oh, I think you do,” Gil said with a sly smile. “We just have to plan the appropriate moment, that’s all.”