Chapter 45 Holding Back
Wren’s ears rang with the constant clash of metal on metal around her.
Blades sliced and arced through the fog as students sparred with one another on the dewy grass of the training ground.
In their black uniforms surrounded by mist, Wren thought her peers resembled umbran, shadow-like cryptura known to lurk at the edges of one’s vision.
Creeping, lurking things that moved out of sight as soon as one turned to get a better look.
“Are you paying attention?” Kierana grunted as she lunged at Cyprus.
Ivanhild had directed the students to form groups of three. They were to take turns sparring, while one person observed, critiqued, and complimented. Wren was not fit to do much more than the first, given that she did not know enough about the art to comment.
“I am trying, but I will admit that I do not feel as though I am learning anything other than how hopeless I am at this,” Wren said, earning a puff of amusement from Kierana along with a laugh.
“Watch as I win, if you please, then I will explain,” Kierana said.
Cyprus’s face was grimly set, but Wren felt his indignation flash hot and bright. Her other peers were some distance off, giving her the ability to focus her attention on her friends, though she still felt the thrumming din of the crowd's emotions.
Kierana spun away as Cyprus moved in on her.
She kept her blade high, then swung it down at the perfect angle to collide with his.
The impact shook his arms and loosened his grip.
Cyprus tried to recover, but Kierana’s hand shot out and grasped his hilt and wrenched it from him.
She then placed her blade against his throat while sliding his sword into her scabbard.
Cyprus held up his hands in surrender and stepped back. His jaw was clenched, and the anger rolling off of him was surprisingly strong given the context. He must take his position as Ivanhild’s prodigy quite seriously.
Kierana removed his sword from the scabbard at her waist and tossed it to Cyprus. He caught the handle with ease. If Kierana tried to do that to Wren, she was liable to cut off Wren’s hand.
“As you saw, I used my momentum to aid in disarming him,” Kierana explained through labored breaths. “Given your lack of strength and ability, it is important to become acquainted with the physics of swordsmanship.”
Wren could not be offended by her words, because they were true and not given in malice. Kierana wanted Wren to learn more than Wren did. The woman’s Stonemouth heritage made her appalled at Wren’s lack of defensive skills.
“I will make an effort to learn physics, as I do not see my strength or ability growing in the near future,” Wren said.
Kierana shot her an unamused look while Cyprus chuckled nearby. His mood had already improved, and Wren was amazed at how quickly he vacillated between emotional states.
“If he agrees, you may spar with Cyprus next, and I will coach you.”
Cyprus dipped his chin in agreement.
“I am ready when you are,” he told Wren.
She sighed and picked her sword up from where it was lying on the ground nearby. It had grown wet from sitting in the grass, the blade and hilt slick with dew. Kierana huffed and snatched it from Wren.
“You should not leave your sword in water. It will rust. Not to mention that you cannot get a solid grip if it is wet,” she grumbled as she cleaned the weapon with her skirts.
“I will be more careful in the future,” Wren said. “It would be easier if I had a scabbard as you do. My arms get tired of holding the weight.”
“I will give you one of mine if you can show you’ve learned something today,” Kierana said.
Wren shook her head.
“You act as though you are my instructor and not Ivanhild. I am in this class not of my own will. I wish only to get a high mark.”
Kierana scowled. “My tutelage will get you a high mark and keep you from dying if you ever find yourself in a circumstance that warrants defense.”
Wren did not reply. She wanted to remind Kierana that there was no future in which Wren would be in such a situation, but the recent death of Kelda still lingered in the air.
Kierana had known Kelda, and it likely worried her that a Stonesmouth woman was killed in such a violent manner.
Wren knew her lessons were the way Kierana showed that she cared.
She should be a better friend and show more gratitude.
Kierana returned Wren’s blade, and Wren accepted it–glad her tutor had not seen fit to throw the weapon.
“I am ready,” Wren said, then met Kierana’s gaze. “I will do my best and listen to your teaching. I promise.”
Kierana smiled. “Good.” She stepped away and waved a hand. “Begin.”
Wren drew in a deep breath.
Eyes up, Kalyxi. Castien’s voice echoed through her mind. She lifted her gaze and met Cyprus’s eyes straight on.
Lift your elbow.
Tighten your abdomen. Think of pulling in and up.
Shift your weight onto your back foot.
Be sure to grip your hilt tightly.
With each whisper in her mind, she followed the instruction.
“Attack first,” Kierana prompted as Castien’s voice murmured Attack me.
Wren lunged at Cyprus. His sword collided with hers, and she rejoiced when it did not come out of her hand.
“Light on your feet now,” Kierana said.
Wren shuffled backward. It was not an elegant movement, but she managed to dodge a blow from Cyprus.
“Swing high next time, use momentum the way I did,” Kierana spoke as Wren parried another advance.
Wren attempted to mimic Kierana’s spin move, but her steps were sluggish and her arms not strong enough to lift the weapon as high as the Stonemouth warrior had. The blow came down wobbly, and Cyprus parried it with ease, managing to disarm her instead of the other way around.
“He was taking it easy on you,” Kierana said bluntly as Wren’s chest heaved.
She had accomplished so little, and yet was already exhausted.
“You should compliment her more,” Cyprus scolded Kierana. He handed the sword back to Wren. “Your first attack was a strong one, and your opening stance was perfect.”
Wren’s gaze floated to Castien, the one responsible for her strong beginning.
He was engaged in battle with Percilean, while Finn watched with an intensity he did not usually possess.
Castien moved with a kind of grace that made his movements simultaneously sharp and fluid.
All the while, she saw his lips moving. He was likely instructing Percilean the same way he had her.
A spark of jealousy in her chest surprised her. She quickly looked back at her friends.
“Thank you, Cyprus,” Wren said with a soft smile. “But Kierana is right to critique me; I have much to improve.”
“You are new to the art,” Cyprus encouraged her again. “With time and practice, you will become proficient.”
Wren almost laughed, but then she recalled Castien’s words.
You can be a fighter if you want to be.
He made it sound so simple. Decide, and then it was done. But Wren had spent much of her life deprived of such opportunities, and in the face of choosing for herself, she was uncertain of how.
“I hope you are right, Cyprus.”
“Yes, yes, you will get better,” Kierana said in an exasperated tone. “That is why we are practicing, to do just that. Now, ready yourself again, it is my turn.”
Wren suppressed a laugh at her friend’s forthright demeanor.
“Very well.”
For the remainder of class, Wren focused entirely on the task at hand. So much so that she forgot to search for an opportunity to give Castien her most recent letter. She would have to find another time, she supposed. Or perhaps she could instruct Blossom to be discreet.
Cool sweat dripped down her back beneath her dress as she made her way to the weapons rack.
Kierana and Cyprus had gone to lunch, as had most of the students.
Wren told her friends she wished to bathe away the sweat and grime in lieu of taking lunch with them.
Even without the addition of blood, swordfighting was a dirty sport.
Wren longed for the scent of lavender soap.
“You’ve improved,” Castien’s silken voice startled Wren as he stepped from behind the weapons rack. It was unfair how he could move silently and was undetectable by her Curse.
“Thank you,” she breathed as she placed her sword in the spot she had taken it from at the beginning of class. “Kierana and Cyprus are good teachers.”
Wren would compliment Ivanhild, but thus far, the professor seemed keen on letting the students teach each other through experience more than him instructing. He had even left before class ended today, putting Kierana in charge. Perhaps that was part of his genius, though.
“And me?” Castien asked as he circled behind Wren to come to her opposite side. “Did my lesson prove helpful?”
His inky curls were tousled from the wind and exercise. He looked wild, but in control all the same.
“I am tempted to lie and say it did not, because you are clearly looking to inflate your ego, which is already far too large.”
“I was simply inquiring about my instruction’s usefulness, so that I did not offer unwelcome help,” he replied with a smirk.
“Is that what you are doing?” Wren asked with a skeptical brow. “Offering aid?”
Castien grabbed the sword Wren had just set down and balanced the bottom of the hilt in the center of his palm before propelling it upward and snatching it out of the air.
“I did write that I wished to spar with you.”
“Yes, well, I am afraid that will have to wait, as I am barely skilled enough to go against Cyprus when he–as Kierana so kindly put it–was going easy on me.”
Castien spun the sword in his hand, the whipping motion of the blade disturbing the curls that had escaped Wren’s hairpins.
“I am capable of holding back.” His dark gaze met Wren’s. Her shadows rose to greet his. They both knew restraint well. “I am the best in the academy, though Kierana and Cyprus are admittedly a close second and third. If you desire a high mark, I can assist you in obtaining it.”
Wren was exhausted. She wished to go to her chambers and soak in the bath while drinking tea.
The icy cold of days prior had abated, but the briny air coming off the rolling Tides still stung her cheeks and made her bones ache.
And yet, she found herself saying, “Perhaps an extra sparring session would be beneficial.”