The Sun Blade

Like Mother, Like Son

"For training."

"Training? I've passed the Trial, there is no more training."

'The only training I require', Cresana thought, 'is a chance at battle'.

"Yes, you have completed your Blade training," Baghra agreed. She rose from her chair lithely and closed the distance between them. She drew herself up closely to Cresana's face. She was several inches shorter than Cresana. This close to her, Cresana could clearly see the striking resemblance to General Kirigan. Although advanced in age, Baghra's eyes were clear and penetrating and her movements suggested a strength and quickness of someone decades her junior. Cresana was sure that she wouldn't be a match for a fully trained Blade, but she also knew better than to underestimate this woman.

"But there's more to be done," she continued.

Cresana met her gaze, and she couldn't deny that the old woman had her full attention now. Baghra recognized Cresana's curiosity and continued.

"My son has a particular assignment for you, and it requires skills and preparation beyond what The Institute can provide. You'll continue your training with me, here at the Little Palace, and with Ivan." Baghra gestured vaguely to the door of her hut. Cresana knew that the Heartrender hadn't moved from where she'd left him; in fact, she had noticed the sound of his feet as he sidled closer to the hut a few moments after she had entered, no doubt straining to hear the conversation.

Cresana wasn't sure what to think of this. What more training could she possibly need? The Institute had been successfully preparing Blades for hundreds of years. None had ever passed the Trial in need of more tutelage. What particular assignment could demand more than what she already knew? Cresana knew the recipes to hundreds of potions and their antidotes; she could identify them by smell alone. She knew how to disarm any opponent, regardless of their size, strength, and weaponry. She could slit a man's throat in complete silence, and she could execute the most excruciating of tortures just as easily. She knew how to read battle formations of her opponents and predict their strategy with surgical precision. She could inflict a mortal wound and suture it up all within the same minute. Her skill with the Scythe Swords was unmatched. She could track foes and game across any type of terrain. There simply was no more training to be had.

"You do have much to learn, you know." It was as if Baghra had read her mind. "This assignment is no small feat. It's never been attempted before. And there's reason for that, Cresana. Blade training and Grisha power shouldn't mix. But, when has that ever stopped him?" This last comment was muttered quietly, and Cresana knew that was not directed to her as much as it was Baghra speaking to herself.

"I don't understand," Cresana said simply, recognizing that Baghra was sinking into a contemplative reverie. Cresana needed answers before she let this woman retract into her own thoughts.

"You will, in time." Baghra's reply was infuriating, and Cresana found she couldn't – or wouldn't – hold back her anger any longer. She withdrew one of the slender knives from the small slit in her trouser's seam and in the blink of an eye had the razor sharp tip pressed against the woman's neck, threateningly close to her jugular. Baghra froze instantly. Cresana's other hand flew to the woman's wrist, preventing her from calling on the Small Science with the intricate hand movements Grisha used to control their powers.

"No more games," Cresana growled. "Tell me what I need to know." The woman's eyes were wide, not with fear but with respect and something Cresana swore was excitement.

"Excellent!" Baghra clapped her hands together like a small child, her gaze meeting Cresana's and her mouth breaking into a wide smile. "You are terribly well trained, aren't you?" The woman's unbridled satisfaction was surprising, but Cresana wouldn't allow herself to be distracted. Gently, she applied more pressure to the woman's neck with her knife. A bright red trickle of blood bloomed from her neck. Although this wasn't what caught Baghra's attention; her eyes flitted almost imperceptibly to something over Cresana's shoulder.

Cresana let her well-trained reactions take over. Without removing her hand from Baghra's wrist, she flung the blade previously pressed to Baghra's neck behind her, connecting with Ivan's palm just as he'd been summoning his heart stopping powers to fell her once again. 'Not this time,' Cresana thought gladly. The thin blade sunk like a splinter into his hand; he grimaced in pain but didn't cry out, although this gave Cresana just enough time to land a powerful kick to the lower left side of his rib cage. She knew she didn't hit hard enough to break ribs, but she was glad to see that he sank to his knees, his mouth opening and closing futilely as the breath left his lungs. His uninjured hand flew to his throat as he struggled for air. Cresana used this time to press her advantage.

"Next one will make sure you never breath again, Heatrender. You" – Cresana turned her gaze back to Baghra, who was watching the scene with that same expression of excitement and admiration –"better start explaining."

Ivan's breath came back to him in a ragged and greedy gulp. As he coughed and sputtered, trying to regain control of his breathing, Baghra's eyes danced back and forth from Cresana's face to Ivan's and finally to Cresana's tight grip on her wrist. After a moment, Baghra nodded and motioned to the chair she had been sitting in when Cresana had entered the hut.

"Very well, Cresana. Sit down. I'll tell you what you want to know."