*
I woke a few hours later when the late-afternoon sunlight streamed through my window and touched my face. Without thinking, I reached for my magic and encountered deadness. The desire to curl into a ball and remain in bed pulsed through my heart. But I refused to give up. Plus I needed to speak to Leif. I flung my blankets off.
The training yard was located next to the glass shop. I leaned against the fence and studied the various matches. Most of the students held wooden practice swords or wooden machetes since they were only in their third year at the Keep. They wouldn’t use real weapons until their final, apprentice year.
Leif sparred with a tall lanky student. I smiled at the mismatched pair. His stocky, powerful build, black hair and square face were the opposite of his opponent—a lean, lithe, blonde woman with a pointy chin. She used her longer reach and sword to stay out of his machete’s chopping zone. Moving with the quick grace of a Greenblade, she dodged Leif’s strikes.
However, experience won over fancy footwork and Leif ducked low and rushed her, knocking her down while unarming her. He grinned and helped her to her feet, then explained his strategy.
I waited as he wrapped up the session and lectured the group on where to focus.
“Don’t stare at their eyes or shoulders,” he said. “Watch your opponent’s hips to anticipate his next strike. You’ve seen how a machete can counter a sword with the right moves and tactics. Do you think a machete can fight an opponent with a bo staff?”
A resounding no sounded from the students. Leif’s eyes gleamed and he picked up a five-foot wooden staff that had been lying next to the fence.
“Yelena,” he said and tossed the bo at me.
Instinctively, I caught it in my right hand.
“Let’s show them how it’s done.” Leif set his feet into a fighting stance. “Unless you don’t want to be embarrassed in front of a bunch of juniors?”
His challenge cut right through all reason and logic. It was physically impossible for a younger sister not to rise to her older brother’s bait. Shedding my cloak, I hopped the low fence.
I faced Leif and slid my hands along the smooth grain of the staff out of habit. The action helped me find that zone of concentration that allowed me to sense my opponent’s movements. This time, my fingers rubbed an ordinary piece of wood. No connection flared to life.
Could I still fight without my magic? Everyone had gathered to watch the match—not the best time to experiment. And Irys’s comment about keeping a low profile rose in my mind too late. Oops.
Leif stared at me with an odd expression. His nose wrinkled as if he smelled an offensive odor. Great. Guess I’d have to rely on my training, my experience and the thousands of hours of practice I’d sweated through. My magic couldn’t be that vital in my fighting. Could it?
Despite my worries, I clutched my weapon at the third points and twirled the bo into a ready position. As soon as the match started, I advanced, swinging the tip of the staff toward Leif’s left temple. He backpedaled and blocked my attack. I aimed for his right temple, then left. Right. Left. Feint right. Rib strike. Leif countered with ease.
“Predictable,” he said.
“I’m just getting warmed up.”
My next series of attacks aimed for his ribs, then temple. Rib. Temple. Rib. Chin strike. Leif jumped back with a laugh. Then he advanced. I scrambled to keep his thick blade from chopping my bo in half. When he swung at my neck, instead of blocking the weapon, I ducked and swept his feet out from under him. He landed with an oomph.
Pleased, I relaxed my guard. Big mistake. Leif grabbed my ankle and yanked. I joined him on the ground. And the advantage of having a longer weapon ended there. From that position, his machete had a greater range of motion, and within a few strikes, he disarmed me.
Far from being triumphant with his win, concern creased his face. I shook my head and signaled for him to keep his mouth shut. Valek had taught us both hand signals to communicate when talking would give away our hidden positions or our plans to an enemy listening nearby.
He sprang to his feet and gestured to me while addressing the students. “See? A machete can defend against a bo staff if you can get in close. Yelena let me take her down in order to demonstrate to you one way to gain an advantage. Normally, she isn’t so easy to beat. That’s it for today.”
The students picked up the training swords and talked in groups as they returned the weapons to the armory connected to the yard. I wiped dirt from my pants.
Once everyone left, Leif turned to me. “Okay, spill it. What’s wrong? You smell...”
Leif’s magic smelled people’s intentions and emotions. He frequently helped with solving crimes due to his unique ability to sniff out criminals. When we’d been reunited after fourteen years apart, he’d proclaimed to our entire clan that I’d killed and reeked of blood. Nice, eh?
“What do I smell like?”
“You smell like death.”