Page 88 of Forcing Fate

“I’ll take you later,” he said as he stood, grabbing his plate.

I followed suit, knowing that he, out of anyone, knew his blades well.

I still hadn’t figured out exactly why a bounty hunter joined the ranks, or why he chose this barracks, but I was glad he did. I didn’t completely trust him like I did Niehm or Elenor, or even Willhelm, but I was glad he was on my side.

At the training fields, they split us into groups of fifty. Commander Dewal claimed smaller numbers were easier to manage concerning weapon inspections. My group started with Sword Master Elon. He stood with several assistants who all held armfuls of wooden swords.

For the first time this morning, a thrill of excitement chased away some of my irritation. I didn’t care what it took—I would learn to use a sword and use it well. I would sleep with it if possible.

“Two lines. Face each other!” Master Elon shouted.

We formed into lines of twenty-five. The bounty hunter moved to stand opposite of me. If we had to fight, I wouldn’t stand a chance, but I’d give it all I had.

“Firstly, hold the sword like it’s a sword. It might be wooden, but it will still hurt if you hit someone hard enough.”

The assistants headed down the rows, handing each recruit a sword. I took mine, surprised by its weight. The weapon was nearly two-thirds of my height. Across from me, the bounty hunter held his sword with two hands, point raised in the air, away from people. I mimicked his stance, and his eyes caught mine before moving back to Master Elon, who walked down the middle path.

A recruit laid his practice sword on the ground, kneeling to lace his boot. Master Elon stopped in front of him, seething. “Recruit! Hold that sword! If I ever see you lay it on the ground again, I’ll dismiss you!”

Master Elon neared the bounty hunter, inspecting his form before turning to me. Eyes wide, he smothered his surprise and examined my hold. “Loosen that grip a bit, recruit. It’s a sword, not a club.”

He waited till I released my death grip on the handle before moving on. Once he finished inspecting the line, he raised his voice once more. “Hold that sword out. Directly in front of you, now. Shoulder height. Keep it there, don’t let it drop.”

I held the heavy weapon out. Both hands gripped the pommel tight as I braced my feet and lifted it.

“On the frontline, you will live and breathe your weapons. That sword, ax, or whatever you choose will be the only thing between you and the Shadows. You will wield your sword, fighting for hours on end without reprieve.” He walked up and down the row. “There will be no water breaks, no rest. You will hold your weapon until it fuses to your hand. I have seen men that had their swords pried away from their fists, unable to release them.”

My arms burned and shook. Sweat beaded on my brow and I looked ahead, meeting the bounty hunter’s challenging gaze, as if daring me to keep my sword straight. I breathed through my nose and focused. I could do this.

A few men grunted, their swords teetering. In answer, Master Elon turned on his heel.

“Hold those swords steady! I’m not finished!” He eyed the lines, and continued, “You will care for your weapon as though it were a newborn babe. You will never, ever sheath a dirty blade. If I catch a recruit sheathing a dirty blade, I will stick you with it myself. You will oil and sharpen your weapon after every use. You will care for it, and on the front, it will care for you.”

Wincing, I couldn’t control the trembling of my arms and the point of the sword wavered. The bounty hunter trained his gaze on me, his weapon steady. His gray eyes bore into mine, as if trying to tell me something.

I wasn’t a mind reader. I had no idea what he tried to convey.

“Once you drop your sword, step back. You’ve been killed. Dead. Nothing more than a corpse.”

Master Elon droned on.

Sweat trickled down my temple as I fought to keep mine up. Slowly, it drooped. I bit my lip, picking the point back up and raising it high. The bounty hunter appeared as if this was a cup of tea, not even breaking a sweat.

A moment ticked by, then another. My arms ached worse than they ever had before. The muscles burned, screaming for release. It felt as if they were being sheared from my body. My vision blurred, but I held on for dear life.

“Recruit. Lower your weapon.”

I gasped as the sword fell. I managed to keep it from hitting the ground. It hung low, just above the dirt. Stars flickered as my sight cleared.

Master Elon stood beside me. “If you pass out on the field, you’re still dead,” he said simply before moving on.

Only two other recruits held their swords. The bounty hunter and another middle-aged man further down the line. I caught a few glares from the younger men, but the bounty hunter gave the slightest jerk of his chin in acknowledgment.

I did it. I held out as long as I could.

I heaved a tired breath and focused on the Sword Master.

We did several exercises, practice lunges, and deflections. He watched our every move, correcting our stance and technique.

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