Page 169 of Forcing Fate

“Now,” he ordered, stepping into position.

I cringed and held the staff as comfortably as I could. No one showed me how to hold such a thing. I took a deep breath and relaxed. I could figure this out. If he wanted me to attack using a weapon I never tried, he had enough faith in me that I could do it. I gripped the staff and stepped up to him.

The first thing I noticed was that I didn’t have to get as close to him to strike. I swung, which he parried easily, but it still kept him at a safe distance.

The wood was strong in my hands, and as he parried, there was a distinct difference in the blow’s strength. It was heavier and more powerful than my strikes with a short sword. The momentum I built made up for my lack of strength.

Rafe let me attack again. He parried, then slipped in his own attack. He held back, but even so, he moved fast. I jerked the staff to block and was surprised at how easy it was.

I grinned, keeping my eyes from his, feeling my confidence build. I swung at his right shoulder, then up at his left flank as he spun. He blocked both with ease, but I moved quickly, pulling the staff back and thrusting it at his chest. He was forced to dance back, unable to bring his swords up in time.

He lowered his weapons and eyed me with approval. “Called it,” he said, watching me with a small smile.

“Thrice-curse it. Dual wielding is still a good option,” Jamlin grumbled from his seat.

“Is this the weapon I’ll train with?” I asked, looking between the men.

“Train with, yes. Use—no,” Jamlin answered, standing and tossing a coin to Rafe.

He clutched both swords in one hand and snatched the coin out of the air. “You’ll get a spear when you learn enough of a staff that you won’t skewer yourself.” General Rafe clarified.

I studied the weapon in my hand. They didn’t train the soldiers with staffs, or even to use spears in solo combat. Running my hands up and down the smooth wood, I felt more confident in that small test fight than I had in all my weapons’ training. The weapon one used really made a difference.

Rafe stepped into position, rolling his shoulders.

“Again.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

I clenched my legs around the gelding, urging him faster through the woods. He responded and picked up speed, hooves pounding over vegetation. I leaned low over his neck as he left the ground, leaping over the creek cutting through the course. I yanked on the right rein, dodging a tree and launching him through a thicket. He obeyed and plunged through, racing as sweat lathered his chest and shoulders. I kneaded his neck, urging him faster as he pushed through the thick undergrowth.

A felled tree blocked our path, and I didn’t think. I squeezed my legs tighter. The gelding didn’t falter. He breathed hard but kept going, launching us over the tree. My teeth clacked as we landed, and he stumbled one step before he righted himself and raced into the clearing.

My breaths came as fast as his, feeling like I had run the race with him. I eased him into a walk and patted his lathered neck. He snorted in response and pricked his ears forward, ready for another run.

“Easy,” I murmured.

I pulled him to a stop in front of Xzanth, and he held the reins as I dismounted.

“Better,” he called.

“He’s a good horse. Fast,” I replied, shaking out my legs.

The mounted course wasn’t easy. General Rafe changed it constantly, making alterations before we got too familiar with it.

I settled into a routine within the first week at the fortress. Everyone else had their own routine as well, aside from Xzanth and Jamlin. Their job was to monitor my training when Rafe wasn’t around.

Every morning at first light, Xzanth and I headed to the archery range and spent the next few chimes practicing. Some days, we focused on distance shooting. Others, he had me walk or run while shooting. Only once had he brought a horse, and had me ride while shooting. After a series of terrible shots, getting bucked, and nearly having a hoof to the head, he resigned to wait before training me in mounted archery.

Afterwards, we returned to the fortress where Rafe would be waiting. Jamlin always tried to buy me a moment to shove a piece of bread or hard cheese in my mouth before sparring. Rafe didn’t take it easy on me, forcing me to learn by mistake more often than naught. He wasn’t a good teacher—he didn’t explain things verbally. He showed me… physically. Which often resulted in me getting a beating under the guise of training.

Following my session with Rafe, he passed me off to Xzanth who put me through my riding paces. I was a decent rider, but when I added weapons, I was terrible. I didn’t have enough confidence to trust my horse as I made large maneuvers. These horses were bred and trained for their even temperaments. Even so, having a twelve-hundred pound beast thundering beneath me, and being asked to trust it with my hands free, was another thing entirely.

I took the reins from Xzanth as we walked back to the fortress.

“Come to the stable.” He offered me the faintest of smiles.

He knew I had friends in the main barracks. This was his small way of giving me a chance to see them. I nodded, not pushing my luck, and lengthened my stride beside him.

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