Clash of Captains

Chapter 9

Aneira grunted as her knuckles hit the rough burlap of the sack Carys held in front of her. She let out a breath and struck the material with her other fist, sweeping up a leg to get in a kick for good measure. She stepped back to catch her breath, rubbing some of the sweat from her brow. Her blonde hair, while contained in a long braid down her back, seemed to be soaked. Aneira sank into the grass and mumbled her thanks as Carys handed her a cup of water and a wet rag to cool herself off.

"So?" Aneira asked as she felt her body begin to sink down to its normal temperature. The sun was bright in her eyes from overhead; she cursed whoever had designed the training grounds for clearing out so many trees. The shade they would have given would have been more than appreciated in Aneira's current overheated state. Claer didn't seem to mind the heat; the dragon lay curled in a ball on the other side of the field, soaking up the sun. "How am I... how am I doing?"

Carys shrugged, tossing the burlap sack off to the side with the other materials she had brought to help her friend train. All of them had mostly just been things that were vaguely body-shaped that held some weight to them, things that Aneira had grown tired of throwing punches and kicks at. "I mean, I don't know much about combat, but you seem to be doing well. Plus you're sweating, like, a lot, so that's got to be a good sign."

Aneira rolled her eyes and swept out a leg to try and trip the girl, but she sidestepped the move with ease. "Can we move on from this boring stuff, at least? I think I've got the hand of all of this already." She glanced down at her knuckles. Her right hand -- her dominant hand -- in particular was red from continuous impact and mottled with the woven pattern of the burlap. She suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, realizing the humor of her sentence too late. "Oh, get it? I've got the hand of punching things. Because you use hands to punch things?"

"Ugh, stop it! I think this was a mistake to have you out here in the heat for too long. It's clearly addling your brain." Carys moaned in frustration, shaking her head. "But, okay, you're probably right. We can try to work with blades now, if you think you're ready."

Aneira nodded eagerly and Carys rolled out a bale of hay that she had set off to the side. Its circular side had been painted with rich oil paints, a deep red circle in the center with a layered rainbow of other colors blossoming out to the outer edges. A homemade target, Aneira thought to herself, and appreciation for her friend's hard work flooded through her. Carys really did care about training Aneira. Aneira would have ambushed the girl with a hug if the brunette had been a fan of physical touch. Instead, she settled for offering her a smile that she hoped passed on as grateful. A light blush spread across Carys's cheeks as she caught Aneira's eye.

"I know what you're thinking. I just have a lot of free time on my hands, okay? There is literally no other reason I made this for you." The girl muttered. She rolled the bale a fair distance away, laying it on its side so that the makeshift target was facing Aneira. "Is this a good length?"

Aneira tilted her head, eyeing the target. "I think so." She fished a trio of knives from a hidden pocket in her trousers and flexed her hands around their handles. It had been a while since Aneira had tried to use throwing knives, and while she had shown an admirable amount of skill with them in the past, she was worried that she was out of practice. "I'm probably really rusty, so don't judge me," she told Carys with a smile. The girl shrugged, promising nothing.

Aneira faced the target, tossing one of the knives up and down in the palm of her hand to remind herself of its weight. It felt good to have them in her hand again; while her sword was a beautiful weapon, she had always been a fan of throwing knives. She held the first of the three blades up to her nose, looking down the blade towards the target. She lined it up and, flicking back her wrist, hurled it at the bale of hay. The blade buried itself just to the left of the innermost circle. Aneira grinned.

"Not too bad," Carys agreed. She went to collect the knife from the target, taking special care to tug the blade from the hay without being overly forceful. "But let's try out the other two."

The blonde nodded and stepped back into place, her left leg forwards while her right leg was slightly behind her. She aimed her throw, raised her arm, and...

A soft crunch of leaves, which Aneira could only link to the sound of footsteps in the woods, rang out through the clearing. The girl fumbled with the knife in her hand, nearly dropping it as she returned her hand to her side.

"Someone's watching us," she hissed, and Carys's blue eyes went wide. Aneira held a finger to her lips and collected her first knife from her friend again. She slipped two of the blades back into their sheaths in her pocket, keeping the other in her hand. Just in case the need arises, she told herself. Her grey eyes darted to the tree line as Claer rose from her spot. The blunt spikes along the line of her neck had risen slightly, and her eyes were fixed on the same spot Aneira was looking at. The blonde narrowed her eyes. There was no fooling dragons. Someone was here with them.