Math wiped the sweat from his eyes as he picked himself up off the ground.

  “Faster,” Khel ordered. “You train yourself to get up slowly, you train yourself to get killed.”

  They had been at it for a week now. They were up at sunrise to eat a quick meal, which they still ate at Catrain and Favian’s tent. Their hosts continually rebuffed their offers to help gather, or prepare, or clean up their meals. Favian insisted that they use that time to train with Khel. “You have more important things to do than washing dishes,” Catrain had added.

  Their archery skills had quickly become passable. They weren’t sharpshooters by any means, but they could reliably hit a target. Khel had quickly cut down their practice time to only a couple hours each morning.

  “You have the form and the basics of shooting down,” Khel had said. “I don’t need you to put out an eye from fifty paces away. I just need you to hit something. You can spend the rest of your lives practicing to get better.”

  After their bow work, they would take a short break and then train with the swords for another two hours. Favian had shown up the third day with a couple spare swords and given them to Math and Thea. The scabbards were cracked, dusty, and well-used, but the blades were sharp and bright. They spent an extra few hours that night learning how to clean, sharpen and care for the blades to keep them that way. They repeated that care every night after they trained, though it didn’t take quite as long once they got the hang of it. The good thing was, they drilled with their new real swords in the morning.

  The afternoons were now given over to a new torture. They sparred. They knew virtually nothing, but still Khel handed them wooden swords and padded vests and they fought. They sparred with Khel, they sparred with each other, and they sparred with random people who wandered by. Khel had the advantage of height, strength and reach, but Thea quickly learned ways to minimize those advantages. At the end of the day, both of them had given and gotten bruises. Everyone else they faced thumped them soundly.

  In between bouts they trained some more. When Khel saw one or another making a mistake, he made them repeatedly perform the technique properly. When one of them fell for an attack, they practiced the defense. They drilled attacks, and counterattacks, and footwork, footwork, and more footwork. And always, Khel insisted on putting their drills into a realistic context with the sparring.

  They finished out each day putting the swords down and sparring with no weapons.

  “You won’t always have your sword. The weapon is a tool, it is a mistake to focus exclusively on it,” Khel had said.

  So he spent a little time teaching them techniques to attack and defend with their hands and fists and, surprisingly, feet and knees and elbows.

  “Everything is a weapon,” Khel taught.

  And then they sparred some more until it was time to clean up in the nearby river and head to Catrain and Favian’s tent for dinner. After dinner and after caring for their weapons, they rested, nursing bruises and sore, stiff arms and legs. They used this time to wander the settlement, exploring and getting to know the people, or to sit by a fire chatting with Khel or their hosts. The days were growing shorter and colder and any warm fire was welcome. When they could find a way to make themselves useful they would pitch in, despite protesting muscles.

  A handful of elders had arrived throughout the week. They were to gather tomorrow and meet formally, but in the meantime, they spent the evenings gathering socially. Their status made them the focus of any evening assembly. The tents were too small for larger groups so eventually Catrain and Favian organized a larger fire in the center of town each night. The bonfire became the nightly gathering place. This gave Math and Thea the perfect opportunity to mingle when they wanted, and to sit back and listen unobtrusively when they were too tired to socialize.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Khel’s voice brought Math’s attention back. Today he had added something new to the training.

  “What was your mistake?” Khel asked.

  Math thought for a moment. “I focused on the weapon. I assumed a sword fight would only use swords.” He had been so focused on the swords when they engaged that he hadn’t seen Khel’s foot lash out and hook behind his, sending him down flat on his back and taking his wind away.

  “That’s right. Now, you and Thea, face off.”

  Math dusted himself off and faced Thea, curved wooden sword held loosely in front of him with both hands. Her large dark eyes focused intently on him, she stepped in with a quick thrust. He parried and stepped to the side with a counterthrust, which she easily dodged. These were his favorite sparring matches. He admired her drive and her newly discovered competitive streak. Every day they trained he could see new reasons why his brother liked her so much.

  The thought of Rai brought a flash of the memory of his death, and his breath caught in his throat. The pain of his loss still hit him in the gut a few times a day. He knew it would fade eventually, but it didn’t seem like relief would come any time soon.

  As he blinked the water from his eyes he felt a sharp pain along his ribs. Thea had lunged forward and to her right and, before he reacted, given him a sharp smack on his left side. She skipped back out of reach before his counter reached her, his training sword passing harmlessly in front of her face.

  “Pay attention!” Khel snapped. “Getting lost in a daydream is a bad idea when someone is trying to put a sharp piece of metal into your guts! Face off again.”

  They squared off a second time. He saw the concern and the pain in her eyes mirroring his. He knew she saw what he was thinking. It wasn’t getting much easier for her yet either, though she had finally managed to pass a whole day without crying.

  He pushed his grieving thoughts back and lunged. Thea saw the attack and hardened her own expression, parrying and counterattacking. They went back and forth furiously, both trying to work out their rage and grief. Neither scored a hit, and they broke off, panting.

  They circled cautiously, then Math lunged again. He feinted a direct attack, then shifted his sword to catch Thea’s parry. Using his weight and strength to push her blade aside, he stepped in close and reached out with his foot to hook his heel around hers. He was learning quickly and wanted to put the technique he had just succumbed to into practice.

  Unfortunately, Thea had just seen Khel perform that same move, and from a better vantage point. She stepped to the side, reached one hand up to Math’s shoulder and kicked her own leg out. His foot flailed in the air as she pulled down at his vest, dropping him to the ground. Math grabbed desperately as he went down, gripping the front of her vest. She landed heavily on top of him, knocking his breath away.

  Their eyes locked as Math struggled to get a breath in. He couldn’t look away. The faint scent of her hair mixed with the day’s sweat reached him as her hair fell down around his face, brushing his cheeks. His heart started pounding. The moment lasted but a second, and Math sucked in a deep breath.

  “Well done,” Khel laughed. “Well done both of you, but the point goes to Thea.” Thea scrambled up, a confused look on her reddening face, and turned away.

  Math shook his head clear. No, he thought. That can’t happen.

  He was saved from having to face her a third time by the sound of excited voices at the edge of the settlement. The crowd noise swelled as people rushed by their impromptu training circle towards the source of the commotion.

  Math looked over and saw two riders, sitting tall on horseback, entering the tent village.

  “The elders of the Creche have finally arrived,” Khel said beside him.

  The three began to walk towards the newcomers. As they neared, Khel saw that the two riders were women. They wore simple riding clothes and bows were hung from each saddle. One was ancient, grey hair cascading down over shriveled features. Her back was bent over the pommel of the saddle, but she looked around with bright and knowing eyes. Math was surprised to see the ornate pommel of a Sidhe sword jutting up over her shoulder. The older woman’s eyes settled on Math and bored into him. Then she turned to her companion. Her companion leaned over to hear her whispers, then turned her gaze on Math as well.

  The other woman also had a curved blade strapped to her back. Her age was indeterminable. She was far from young, but the lines of age hadn’t touched her face and no grey had touched her dark hair. She stared at Math for a timeless moment. He felt insignificant under that gaze, but then she smiled and his heart couldn’t help but feel joy. She turned her attention back to those greeting her, releasing him from her scrutiny. He knew without a doubt that the younger woman was the leader of the pair.

  Khel whistled. “If I’m not mistaken, that is not just an elder. That is the Master of the Creche.”