Page 57 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
As he lunged at me once more, I gripped the sword tightly and held it in front of me, unsure if I was ready for the impending impact. The moment his sword connected with mine, it jolted violently from my hand, reverberating through my arms.
With uncanny grace, he seized the back of my long braid, holding me in place while he pressed his sword to my throat.
“Dead,” he declared with chilling finality.
“I thought you were going to teach me how to use weapons!” I exclaimed, my eyes locked onto his, curiosity mingling with concern. I wondered about his other eye—was it still there, hidden behind the patch, or had it been lost completely?
“That is surely what I am doing,” he replied, a spark of annoyance evident in his voice. “Now, block!” Without warning, he pushed me away from him, and I stumbled slightly before regaining my balance.
My heart raced as I spotted the sword lying on the ground nearby. I lunged for it, grasping the hilt tightly and feeling the cold metal press against my palm.
As I whirled around, my instincts kicked in just in time; he was right there, poised to strike. In a split second, I dropped low and rolled on the ground, narrowly escaping the arc of his blade as it sliced through the air where I had just stood. The adrenaline surged through me, heightening my Fae senses and sharpening my focus.
I had to admit, I was even impressed with myself. Eryn said I needed to trust my Fae instincts more and that the more I did, the more natural things would come.
This time, when he struck his sword at me, it wasn’t as hard when it made contact with mine. I held my sword with two hands as I blocked him each time.
“One hand,” he said, his voice low and commanding, cutting through the tension in the air like a knife.
“One hand?!” I yelled, frustration fizzing within me. “I can hardly block you with two!” My protest hung in the air, a mix of disbelief and defiance.
The way he looked at me was cold and a reminder of the power he wielded. I knew, without a doubt, that he was a Royal Fae. Even if Eryn hadn’t told me, I could sense it in the aura that surrounded him—an ethereal presence that pulsated with confidence.
With gritted teeth, I held my sword with my dominant hand, the weight daunting in the intensity of the moment. I reluctantly tucked my other hand behind my back, a gesture of submission that felt humiliating. But if he wanted to make a spectacle out of me, I would go overboard. My heart raced as I squared my shoulders, channeling every ounce of bravado I could muster to match the challenge he presented. The atmosphere crackled with expectation, and I steeled myself, ready to meet him head-on.
He smirked. This time, he didn’t hold himself back. As he swung over and over at me, I was only able to block two of his hits before he took the pommel of his sword and rocked me in the eye with it. I fell to the ground, my vision dark for a moment. My eye swelled shut almost immediately.
Gods, I hate this. And I hate him! Why was I even doing this in the first place?I thought to myself.
“Because you are Royal Fae and we need your help,”Makar whispered in my head. I felt his magic sneak past my shield.
I almost saw red, not just with Makar in my head, but for my inability to keep my shield up. My anger boiled beneath the surface as I silently yelled back at him, “STAY OUT OF MY HEAD!” Before he could utter another word, I slammed my mental door shut with a force that echoed in my mind. This time, instead of the usual vines coiling protectively around the white-scaley door, it was encased inflickering flames, a fiery barrier that symbolized my frustration and anger. Or maybe it just symbolized me.
I turned my head slightly and caught Makar’s eyes; he offered a sexy smirk and a barely perceptible nod.
I tried not to smile back, so I rolled my eyes at him instead.
Just then, Gavrin approached, and I braced myself, expecting him to kick me while I was down. Instead, to my surprise, he extended his hand toward me. Hesitating for just a moment, I accepted his offer. He pulled me up with a swift motion, leaving me momentarily disoriented.
“When sword fighting, your body position is crucial for balance, agility, and effectiveness,” he explained, his voice steady yet authoritative. He shifted my legs, aligning them so that my feet were shoulder-width apart. “Your dominant foot should be slightly forward,” he instructed, guiding my posture. “Bend your knees a little for better mobility.”
I followed his directions, adjusting my stance to match his demonstration.
“Good,” he said, a hint of approval warmed his tone. “Now, make sure to keep your weight evenly distributed on both feet, but slightly favor the front foot. This will help you stay agile and ready to move fast in any direction.”
With my sword firmly in hand, I focused intently on stabilizing my stance. Gavrin stood before me, encouraging me with gestures to move forward. Without thinking twice, I lunged at him, swinging my sword with intent. The blade made contact with his as he blocked my strike, and I felt a sense of pride settle over me.
As I continued to swing, Gavrin emphasized, “Keep your torso upright but relaxed. Your shoulders should be down and back, avoiding any tension.”
Alright, I thought, I had that down.
“Now, hold the sword firmly with both hands,” he instructed. “Grip the handle with your dominant hand while using the other to support it further back along the blade. That provides balance and control.”
I cut him off, frustrated. “But you said one hand!”
A smirk played on his lips, and his eyes filled with amusement. “I just wanted to see you fail,” he gloated.
Before I could retort, he continued, “Your arms should be slightly bent, ready to strike and defend. Keep your eyes focused on your opponent the entire time. And never use just one hand, Elara.”
