Frostblood (Frostblood Saga #1)(30)

“Your sword is blunted. And I wanted you to feel the weight of the real thing. Now, raise it like this.”

I bunched my muscles and lifted the weapon.

“Higher!” he ordered. My arm trembled, but I raised it so the tip was level with my nose.

“Now, stand like this.”

I mimicked his stance, feet apart, knees bent.

“You’re off-balance,” he accused. “I could take you down with one kick.”

He came over to me, snapping out instructions as he put a hand to my back, my shoulder, the back of my knee, until he was satisfied. Although his hands were cold, they weren’t bitingly so. It seemed the longer I stayed in the abbey, the more I grew used to the proximity of Frostbloods.

“Now, come at me.”

I moved toward him, my sword held out. With one swipe, he dashed the weapon from my hand. It met the grass with a thud, sending up a spray of morning dew. Arcus still held his sword in the ready position.

“Is this the part where I beg for mercy?” I asked.

I was using light words to hide the fact that I was out of my element. Arcus seemed to think I wasn’t serious about the lesson. His face darkened.

“You think the king’s soldiers will care if you beg?”

Heat flared up my neck and into my cheeks. I picked up the sword, gripped the hilt, and went at him in earnest. He parried my stroke and disarmed me. I tried again, and my sword went flying.

After a third time, I picked up the sword and threw it as far as I could. It landed with a splash in the fishpond.

“You retrieve your weapon. Right. Now.” The words were delivered from between clenched teeth as if he would rather have tossed me into the pond after it. Or perhaps just my severed head.

“You’re supposed to be teaching me!” I shouted. “I already know that I’m useless with a sword. What are you trying to prove?”

Arcus looked away. “Brother Thistle is too easy on you. He wants to go slowly. He doesn’t want to push. Meanwhile, war still rages in the Aris Plains. The land withers. Families starve. If this goes on, there will be no kingdom to save.”

“And that’s my fault?” I demanded. “For not being ready?”

He hesitated. “No, it’s mine. For not teaching you fast enough.”

“You think I’ll learn faster when I’m out of my head with fury?”

“I’m trying to show you that losing focus in battle could mean losing your life. And you lose focus all too easily, Fireblood.”

His words sank in slowly, like drops of rain. This lesson was a test of my temper. I had to show him I could keep it.

I slogged to the pond and searched until I saw metal shining under the surface of the shallow edge. As I touched the hilt, something brushed my hand. I jumped back, and the sword slipped from my fingers.

“What now?” Arcus asked tightly.

I shuddered. “Something cold and slimy.”

“You’re afraid of fish?” he asked in disbelief.

“I’m not afraid. I just… hate them. So cold.” I looked at him meaningfully. “It’s like touching a Frostblood.”

“Indeed,” he murmured. “Now, stop being ridiculous and get your sword.”

I reached in again and grasped the hilt, gritting my teeth in case I felt another slimy caress. Knees wet, I returned to our training area.

He demonstrated the various attacks and how to block them. He showed me how to protect my stomach, my flank, my thigh, my shoulder, my head. Some positions twisted my wrist at an awkward angle. My head spun trying to remember it all. If I parried too high or too low, he corrected me, making me repeat the moves until my arm ached.

As I was unlikely to overcome an enemy with power and size, he focused on teaching me to be light on my feet, using quick evasive moves to get out of the way, and how to block when I couldn’t.

For a while, we went through the motions slowly; then the blows came faster. I panted as I tried to match his pace.

“Keep your sword up,” he said.

“I’m trying, but we’ve been at this for hours. I’m tired.”

“Watch your surroundings,” he warned.

“Then slow down.”

“This is slow.”

I leaped backward, looking for a break from his constant advance. The earth was spongy under my feet. I stumbled.

“You’re giving up solid ground,” he shouted. “Watch your—”

My foot hit mud. Arcus threw down his practice sword and reached toward me, but my own sword slashed the air in front of me as I flailed. I fell backward into the pond. The water wasn’t deep, but it was shockingly cold.

Arcus stood at the edge, shaking his head.

“You meant to do that,” I gasped, breathless with cold.

“I didn’t, but it’s a good lesson.” A smile tugged at his lips. “You look like a cat in a rain barrel.”

I scrambled toward the bank, grabbing pond plants and water lilies to pull myself forward. My foot slipped and I dipped under and bobbed back up.

When I could see again, Arcus was shaking. It took a second to realize he was gripped by a fit of laughter.

“Shut up or I’ll—” I slipped again, and my mouth filled with water.

“You’ll what?” Arcus gasped. “Attack me with a fish?”