Page 38 of The Source of Storms

“Additionally, most opponents that are larger than you will likely be more heavily armored. Larger, stronger, people can wear heavier armor and still move efficiently with it on. Smaller folks tend to choose to wear less. If they do opt for more, they may be more protected, but they’ll be slower.

“When we get to Rhyanaes, we’ll get you some leather armor. Something flexible that lets you move. For a fighter like you, your speed and dexterity will be your biggest strength. Hard sword strikes can still break bones through heavy armor, but your best bet will be never being hit at all. Come here.” He sheathed his sword.

I did as he said, stepping toward him. A tiny glow of an excited ache lit in the darkness of my core at his tone.

“Stand however feels natural, and raise your hands like you’re going to fight me.”

I stepped my left foot forward, angling my body to him, and raised loose fists just below my chin.

“Good. A little wider in the stance. You never want to be walking a tightrope. A wider base is harder to knock over.”

I stepped my right foot out and he nodded.

“Your right hand is your dominant hand, correct?”

“Yes,” I answered, beginning to feel the weight of his attention assessing my stance.

“Do you know what your longest reaching strike is?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Here.” He stood in front of me and held up his left hand. “Reach with your left fist like you’re going to strike my hand.”

I reached forward, meeting his palm at the fully extended length of my arm.

“Since your left arm is your front arm, people often think their left jab is their longest reach.” He kept his hand where it was. “Now, lower your left hand and aim past my hand with your right, without moving your feet.”

I did as he said, twisting naturally from my right toes through my hips. My fist reached far past his hand, and the extent of my reach stopped with my lower forearm against his hand, just above my wrist.

“There, see? Your dominant hand strike, or your cross, is your longest strike. If you’re backed against a wall or approached by someone offensively, and you have only one quick strike to stop their advance, make it your cross. And make it quick. Go ahead, reset and strike my hand.”

I pulled back, then rotated into the punch, pivoting again on my toes and throwing it through my hips and shoulders. My fist snapped into Byrgir’s hand.

“Good. Quick and sharp –– I like it!” he said.

I smiled. It felt good to throw a punch, good to stretch and uncoil my muscles. Good to feel the impact after the helplessness of the previous night.

“We’re going to work on training you to get inside your opponent’s reach and strike hard without getting hit. It’s important that you learn to check kicks and block hits, so you’ll still get lots of practice getting hit, that’s for sure.

“Your goal will be fast, quick, and deadly. Get inside the guard, make an effective strike, and end the fight before your opponent can break your ribs with a bigger sword. But enough talking!” Byrgir stepped naturally into a fighting stance and raised his hands, palms out, with a smile.

We had drilled for all of three minutes before I was breathing heavily. I struggled to find my breathing rhythm while moving and punching, even though I threw my strikes at less than half strength. We paused so Byrgir could show me a push kick and body kick, and then resumed our drilling. By the end of two rounds, I was beginning to sweat.

“That’s enough for today,” Byrgir said. “We’d better get moving again. But when we get to Rhyanaes we’ll do some proper training with mitts and pads.”

“So you’ll keep training me when we get there?” I asked, surprised.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Byrgir seemed more surprised at my question.

“I just hadn’t considered how long I’d be staying.” I hadn’t thought much beyond the events of the last few days. Hadn’t been able to wrap my mind around what the immediate future would hold.

“As long as you’d like,” Byrgir said with a shrug. “You’ll be safe there, at least until we can get Eilith back and get you both home.”

“And what about you? Will you go back home after?” I asked as we retrieved the horses.

“Rhyanaes is more of a home to me than Skeioholm. Wouldn’t mind staying for a while, seeing some friends. But I’ll go where I’m needed.”

“So you’ve spent a lot of time there?” I asked as we settled in our saddles and resumed our trek. The wolves fell into their usual patrol.

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