The Lady Of Shadows

1.7: THE CADRE.

—————
“They are feared in the Underworld communities, feared for their vicious skills and battle intellect. Many have tried to discover a weakness of this secret sect, but none have been found. Yet.”

Recovered Correspondence from the Phantommen to Hel's overlord, Lothaire.
—————

Azar's full height is nothing short of intimidating. With her posture erect, it seems like she had been slouching previously. "Are you done gaping like a fish?" She taunts. "Pick a training weapon over there."

   I hurry to the weapons rack, picking the strongest staff I can find. The Commander wields a similar weapon, hers carved into an intricate, tribal design. "Aren't you going to remove those robes?" I ask.

  "I need not to." She stares me down, her poise balanced and casual. "Move to the mat." I do as she says. "So are we doing a countdown or turn by turn strikes or—

  WHAM!

  I dodge her first strike by pure luck, and the ground vibrates at the force behind the attack. I spin, ducking under the next swipe and I'm winded, landing on my knees. Azar doesn't allow me a moment's rest, aiming for my face. I raise the staff and we meet in a deadlock, my arms screaming at the greater force I'm resisting.

  Her focus is on trying to see me break, and even now I notice she's barely putting any effort.

Instead I retreat, my change in momentum stunning her for a second. I scramble to my feet and rush for her but she anticipates my attack. With the flick of her wrist, I am tossed aside, and the matting does nothing to cushion my fall.

  "Tired already?" There's no humor behind her eyes, and she stands back. Watching. "I expected you to be stronger, actually." I mock, biting back a groan as I get up. I balance the staff. "Let's continue."

  "Gladly." Those robes glint under the sunlight, billowing behind her. I charge again, striking for her lower body. I certainly do not expect her to launch into the air, kicking me backwards. I feel my ribs scream in protest as I land haphazardly on the mat.

  "That's enough. One more hit and the medics would be rushing you out of here."

  I lift my head to see her outstretched hand. I take it, that warmth seeping into my own veins. "You aren't like the other Attuned. They are not as tenacious as this."

  My hands tremble at my sides. "My mother taught me to keep fighting. To always keep fighting."

  A dark look crosses her face. "I can see that." Wordlessly, she throws her staff in the air and it disappears into a crackle of flame. "Why are you still here, child?"

  "I want to know the result of this assessment. Do I qualify as Cadet?"

"Qualification should be the least of your concern," Azar crosses her arms. "You are not ready. Hardly ready for the realities of this world."

  "Should I not decide for myself if I am ready for this? All of my life, my mother shielded me. Protected me. Now she has no one protecting her. No one at all." I maintain my grip on the staff, the constant pressure reminding me to hold my tongue and not say anything rash.

  The angel stares me down. "Neriah is an independent being. She needs no one else but God. Do not credit yourself as an all important part of her life. Riah existed long before you, and she will continue to do so."