Gates of Thread and Stone(40)

Oh boy. I stood, and Avan relented, taking my place on the sideline.

The indoor training yard, another area thankfully without decay, spanned an entire floor. An array of weaponry lined the walls like an armory, and tall windows allowed plenty of light into the expansive room. Numerous broad, gray circles marked the rings where the hollows sparred. Aside from two boys throwing knives at the other end of the room, we were the only people using the training yard.

I took a position in front of G-10. For the first few days, he’d taught us combinations, and how to hit, kick, and block. He’d forced us to repeat the motions for hours until each move was committed to muscle memory. I spent more than an hour each night in the bathhouse soaking away the aches. Now we had to use what we’d learned.

I nodded to indicate that I was ready. I didn’t even have time to be surprised before pain shattered my jaw. I found myself on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. My face and neck throbbed. I blinked lights out of my eyes and didn’t move.

“You hit her where she was already injured,” Avan said, his voice tight. I focused on his voice, drawing strength from it.

“Yes, I aimed for her weaknesses.” G-10’s feet appeared in my range of vision. I groaned and rolled onto my stomach. “Kai, if you expect to fool the Tournament judges into believing you’re a cadet, then show me you’re better than this.”

Drek. Something savage and angry clawed up my gut. Gritting my teeth, I pushed to my feet. I was better than this. Reev had taught me better than this.

“Good,” said G-10.

His leg blurred, and I dodged, rolling away to avoid the kick that swung over me, snagging the end of my ponytail. From the corner of my eye, I saw Avan stiffen at the strike. My speed was my main advantage. Reev had always said so. When G-10 came at me again, I ducked and jabbed, driving my knuckles against his ribs.

He grunted. Then he smirked and dived in close, strikes coming fast. It was all I could do to block. He dropped low and then sprang upward, his palm crashing into my chest. I fell, landing on my back with a breathless gasp.

“In the arena, use that speed,” G-10 said. “End the match with as few strikes as possible.”

I drew a breath. Ow.

“That’s enough for today. Same time tomorrow morning.”

Avan tried to help me up, but I brushed away his hands. I would do this on my own. I was pretty sure my bruises had bruises, but I managed to keep from groaning as I stood. I averted my face so they wouldn’t see me grimacing.

“Kai!” G-10 called after me. “I need to talk to you.”

I rolled my shoulders and then fixed on a smile as I turned to look at him. “What about?”

G-10 walked past me. “Come with me.” He glanced at Avan, who was leaning against the door frame. “You can leave.”

“Sure,” Avan said. “I’ll just go wander aimlessly through the corridors.”

G-10 snickered. “Don’t get lost.”

I gave Avan a shrug as I followed G-10 out into the hallway. “Where are we going?”

“To see Irra.”

My feet faltered, but I caught up to his side again. This didn’t sound promising, but maybe Irra just wanted to share another cup of tea. “Why?”

He didn’t answer. I chewed on my bottom lip. I hadn’t seen Irra for a couple of days, which, according to G-10, was nothing unusual. He tended to disappear into his study or the nether regions of Etu Gahl for periods of time, the reasons for which no one quite knew.

When we reached Irra’s study, the door was cracked open. The rusty doorknob was held in place with a single half-screwed nail. G-10 knocked before pushing the door open wider.

Irra sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of a lantern, his long legs bent like a spider’s. He was facing the glass doors that led to the courtyard, but the curtains were closed.

G-10 and I stepped in, and he closed the door behind us. The wood scraped shut. I didn’t ask what Irra was doing.

“How is your training?” Irra asked, unfolding his legs and standing in one fluid movement.

“Fine,” I said warily.

“Is that correct?” He directed the question at G-10 as he circled his table piled with bread bites. They were now arranged into a circular wall, surrounding a tall bread fortress. I wondered if it was supposed to be Ninurta.

Behind me, G-10 slumped against the wall, eyes downcast and arms crossed. I frowned at him. “What is this about?” I asked.

“I’m worried about the starting point of your skills,” G-10 said.

Irra had arranged for G-10 to train us, for which Avan and I were both grateful. And while G-10 had complimented my speed, I knew I could be faster. I wasn’t used to pushing through the pain of unhealed abrasions and sore muscles, and nobody felt that frustration more keenly than I did.

Irra plucked at the frayed sleeves of his black tunic, which hung so loosely on his frame that it looked like a curtain. “Matching the proficiency of the cadets within two weeks is impossible. I don’t expect you to be their physical equals. However, your success depends on your ability to blend seamlessly into the Tournament. You can’t let your lack of training show in your matches.”

“I won’t,” I said, my shoulders hunching. I didn’t like where this conversation was leading. “This was the first day of actual fighting. I’ll get better.”