Lay him out, huh?
Looking down, I tried to think of a way to face the trial, yet nothing came to mind.
"Oi! Princess, move it!" Zoltan called out loudly.
Stepping out of line, I walked over to the pile of wooden swords at the edge of the yard, picked one up, and headed toward the center with the feeling that everyone was watching me. I tightened my grip on the hilt, unable to stop my fingers from trembling.
My brothers were over on the other side as well, and after embarrassing myself earlier, I didn't want to give them another reason to laugh at me. When I was almost at the center, a few mocking laughs rose from their group; I could have expected that much, yet it was the silence from my own group that surprised me instead.
Lowering my eyes to the sword, I adjusted my grip on the hilt and tried to steady my fingers. It was heavier than I remembered; I had only used it a couple of times during drills, so how was I supposed to face someone with it now?
Ten strikes. I just had to stay on my feet... until the tenth.
An almost unnatural silence settled behind me. I turned around and found everyone staring at me.
What do you expect from me?
My gaze met Theo's among the recruits, and he gave me a thumbs-up with a smile. I didn't know why, yet that gesture alone was enough to convince me to step forward into the center of the yard.
A boy from the opposite line stepped forward and pointed to himself to signal to his instructor that he would take the fight. He then broke away from the group and strode confidently toward the center. Planting himself in front of me, he bared his teeth in a grin while I closed my eyes for a moment, waiting for Zoltan's whistle.
"Hey, scum. You're filthy as a swamp. Aren't you ashamed to show up like that?" he murmured under his breath.
My jaw clenched as the memory of what had happened to me on the first day suddenly resurfaced. For an instant, the boy in front of me seemed to disappear, and I was overwhelmed by that same helplessness, that feeling of being unable to do anything to defend myself. I didn't want to end up beaten that badly again.
"Tsk! Doesn't matter if you don't answer. This won't even be a fight!"
Why was I here? Zoltan had to know about my past—in fact, I was sure of it. Then why? He knew full well that I had no experience.
Zoltan's whistle tore me from my thoughts just as the boy in front of me lunged forward, raising his wooden sword and bringing it down on me in a slash. Instinctively raising my guard, I squeezed my eyes shut out of fear of taking that wood straight to the face.
The impact shot through my wrists all the way to my elbows; my grip nearly gave out as the wood vibrated in my hands, numbing my palms, and for a moment I was afraid I had truly hurt myself.
One. Nine left.
Before I could raise my guard again, the next strike caught me squarely on the shoulder and sent me staggering back. I was taken aback.
He's terrifyingly strong... Or am I just this weak? It's worse than I thought.
Laughing in amusement, the boy glanced behind him. Instinctively following his gaze toward my brothers standing off to the side, I inadvertently met their eyes for a brief moment before looking back at my opponent.
His smile vanished in an instant, and with a visibly irritated expression, he tightened his grip and snapped his sword back in front of him.
"Who do you think you are, you bastard, drawing their attention?"
What—
He moved before I could even react. The third strike slammed into my ribs and knocked the wind out of me; I doubled over on instinct, only for another blow to hit my opposite shoulder before I could recover, leaving me staggering and gritting my teeth just to stay on my feet.
It hurts... It hurts too much. That's four. I still have six left.
When the boy shifted to the left, I adjusted my guard to follow him, only to realize it was a feint as the real strike came right after and caught me across the right forearm.
The pain made me grit my teeth. My hand flew open, and the sword slipped from my fingers and clattered to the ground. I stared down at it, unable to move, my arm throbbing and my breath coming in ragged gasps as if I had been running for hours instead of blocking just a few strikes. I hadn't realized I was in such poor shape; what good had all that running done me if I couldn't even withstand a few attacks?
"Come on, pick it up!" Grinning, the boy pointed at the sword and glanced around, raising his voice. "I wouldn't want anyone saying I won without honor."
Bending down to pick it up, I hesitated when I looked at my hands and saw that the blisters that had burst during training had torn open again, staining my palms with blood and leaving a dark streak across the hilt.
"Now everyone will see just how weak you are!" he whispered.
Weak... Weak... Weak... "You are my greatest failure"...
The word began echoing inside my head, drowning out every other thought as I stared at my trembling hands, unable to make them stop.
I'm pathetic after all... Why—
"Come on, Luth! Pick up the sword! You can do it!"
Theo's voice rang out from the group behind me, pulling me from my thoughts.
"Don't want to pick up the sword anymore? Fine, I can let you surrender too. Get on your knees and beg me for it in front of everyone. At least you'll spare us all the humiliation of watching you lose."
I gritted my teeth. His words began to burn inside me. Picking up the sword wouldn't be enough to change anything. I wasn't strong enough to face him, nor skilled enough to parry another blow like the ones he'd landed earlier.
If I could just buy a little time, maybe I could...
My eyes widened. The book I'd read just before losing consciousness suddenly came back to me. Its pages described precise points on the body that could temporarily impair the movements of anyone struck there.
Breath Point, Stride Point... What am I... seeing?
The words flowed through my mind, and one passage from those pages grew especially vivid.
"Pulse Point: located on the inner side of the forearm. Precise pressure can temporarily weaken the hand's grip and make finger movement difficult."
What I needed had been right in front of my eyes all along; how had I managed to forget about it? I'd never put that knowledge into practice, though, and my opponent had no intention of waiting for me. Still, I had to try. It was my only option. I raised my gaze, trying to look more determined. The boy watched me with a mocking smile.
I lunged to the side and grabbed the sword, sliding across the gravel. Even that simple movement was enough to make me feel the full weight of the blows I'd taken earlier.
"So you've decided to humiliate yourself on your own—don't blame me for it."
A moment later, he twirled the wooden sword and switched his guard, drawing the blade back behind him as he shifted his center of gravity and took a step forward.
"Let's end this here!"
Watching his feet, his shoulders, and the way he shifted his weight to wind up for the attack, I tried to track his movements; there had to be an opening somewhere, yet I couldn't find one. How could I possibly use those points against an opponent like him?
He sprang toward me, winding up for a sideways slash.
He was too fast. I instinctively took two steps back, but slipped on something and lost my balance. I tried to break my fall with one hand, but the sword slipped from my grasp and clattered to the ground beside me. The pain in my ribs flared up again, forcing a ragged gasp from my throat.
I gritted my teeth. If only I'd fallen... this farce would be over by now.
Then why...
Looking up just in time to see his sword coming down on me, I watched the slash pass mere centimeters from my face. My eyes went wide as his forearm swept right past me—I couldn't believe it.
The Pulse Point...
It couldn't end like this—not in front of them. I couldn't give them another excuse to mock me.
Pushing off the ground with my planted hand, I twisted my torso and whipped my free arm around, driving two stiffened fingers straight into the spot I remembered. For an instant, nothing happened. Then the boy took one step back, followed by another.
I gasped for air.
It didn't work?
Watching his grip, I saw his fingers tremble for a moment before opening completely. The sword slipped from his hand and hit the ground as he clutched the forearm I had struck with his other hand, clenching his teeth so hard I could hear them grind.
Staring at the fallen blade in disbelief, I let out a sigh of relief and got back to my feet.
"You bastard! What did you do to me? How dare you—"
His words snapped me back to reality. I saw him duck down. Then a sharp blow struck my ankle, my foot gave way, and I lost my balance completely, crashing onto my back with my eyes fixed on the sky.
Huh?
Zoltan's whistle signaled the end of the match. For a few moments I lay still with my eyes closed, trying to catch my breath; I didn't care that I had lost—in fact, I had been more than lucky just to disarm him. Thinking back on it, his last attack had seemed slower than the others, or had that just been my imagination?
A moment later, a shadow fell over me. I opened my eyes and saw him standing in front of me again, his shadow blocking out the light. With an unreadable expression, he leaned down slightly and held out a hand to me.
"All good?" he asked, flashing me a smile.
He wants... to help me?
That look... So the match alone wasn't enough for him. His hand was still trembling, though he seemed to be trying to hide it.
I used my arms to push myself into a sitting position. The boy held my gaze, silently insisting that I take his hand. It was subtle, but I understood. I reached toward him, only to see a faint smirk tug at his lips.
I knew it... You're all the same.
Pulling my arm back, I got to my feet on my own, ignoring the pain in my ankle. "Thanks, I don't need your help."
He let out a short laugh.
"Did you really think... I'd help a beggar like you? Next time I see you, I'll kill—" he whispered, but Zoltan cut him off.
"Move it, princess! And bring that piece of wood back."
Turning sharply on his heel, my opponent left the center of the yard and headed back to his place in line.
Staggering over to my group, I tossed the wooden sword onto the ground beside the others and, for an instant, met Zoltan's eyes. He was staring at me with an unusually serious expression I had never seen on him before, stroking the thick beard beneath his chin. There was something ominous about his expression, so I quickly lowered my eyes and made my way toward Theo, who hurried over to help me.
Within a few minutes, Zoltan led us to an adjacent field, separating us from the official recruits; once we arrived, he placed one of the older boys in charge of our group and ordered him to put us through the same drills assigned to him.
Training resumed almost immediately, leaving me no time to recover from the match. While the pain in my ankle eased within an hour, I couldn't say the same for the rest of my body; by the time it ended, I was covered in bruises, my hands bloodied, my clothes caked in dirt, and my arms aching so badly I could barely move them.
When they finally dismissed us and the recruits began dispersing across the courtyard, I noticed Rowan lingering behind to wipe down his wooden sword, with Darian standing beside him.
Rowan raised his head, and our eyes met; a moment later, Darian turned toward me as well.
I stopped almost on instinct. There was something strangely familiar in their eyes, but I couldn't quite place it. Rowan called to Darian, and the two of them walked away together. Still confused by that exchange of glances, I resumed walking.