Winter Embers [ Book 2 ]

Chapter Nine

          Claire did as he asked, spacing her feet apart and turning her body to offer as small a target as possible. It was getting easier each time, her body falling naturally into the right pose and Draz was having to correct her less and less as a result.

          "Excellent," Draz said. "Now block."

          He darted forward, swinging the stick one direction before quickly reversing position and bringing it full swing in the opposite direction. A feint, he had called it, and she realized his intent just in time to parry it -- barely.

          "Good," Draz replied. He stepped to the left and swung the branch again. Claire twisted to block it, catching the stick were the hilt would be if it had been a real sword. Draz offered no praise this time, instead he kept moving, swinging the stick again, low and towards her knees. Claire made a valiant effort to block but felt the stinging burn as the stick made contact with her calf.

          "Never let your guard down," Draz replied. "Don't let yourself be distracted by a pretty face."

          "That would be a problem if I was sparing with, Alek, or even Rollan," she said with a smirk.

          "Forget the sword, with a tongue like that you don't need it, you'll cut men down with mere words," Draz replied dramatically, clutching at his heart as though she had physically wounded him.

          "Shut up, Draz," Claire replied, despite her words she was smiling.

          "Like that's possible," Rollan said as he flicked bits of twig into the flames.

          "Let's go again," Draz said ignoring Rollan's comment.

          "Do we have to?" Claire asked, rubbing at her arm again. She had been excited, at first, at the prospect of learning swordplay, but now she wasn't so sure it was worth the effort.

          "No, we don't have to," Draz replied with a casual shrug. He jammed the stick into the snowy ground so that it stood upright on its own. "But what are you going to tell someone really bent on harming you? Please stop, I'm tired? Do we have to? How about a spot of tea instead?"

          "No," Claire replied feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

          "In that case," he replied, plucking his stick from the ground, "defend yourself."

          Claire was sore when she tumbled into her makeshift bed that night, sore but satisfied. By the time they had finished the impromptu training session, she had been able to effectively block a string of attacks and landed a few blows of her own upon the arms and legs of an unsuspecting Draz.

          

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          In light of her success, the tiny aches and pains resulting from repeated whacks of the thin stick were easily ignored.

          She lay for some time, staring into the darkness, her mind a tangled mess. When she had dreamed of returning to Oria, it had never been like this.

          She had never thought it would be without Alek.

          Closing her eyes, Claire tried to find escape in sleep, but the thoughts kept surfacing, rising up as quickly as she could push them down again. It wasn't just Alek who plagued her, but thoughts of her mother as well, of her father, and of a truth she found herself struggling to come to terms with.