The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [37]
Almost all of what I learned was new, and with all the repetition in the lectures, the weapons classes were usually the most interesting.
“Lerris, used properly, that truncheon is a far more effective weapon than a knife. Used properly…you’re holding it like…” Gilberto broke off and shrugged. “I cannot even make a comparison.”
Most training sessions were like that. Initially, nothing I did was right. The same was true of almost everyone—except Tamra and Krystal. Gilberto said almost nothing to Tamra, except occasional suggestions. Krystal he paid more attention to, but not much. As far as any kind of blade went, she picked up what he had in mind immediately.
Me…it was like I had two left thumbs.
“Lerris, stop fighting yourself…just relax.”
How many times I heard those words, I don’t recall; but hear them I did, time after time.
Once we had some basic idea of what we were doing, Gilberto began pairing us off—first against him, or one of his apprentices; then, occasionally, against each other.
Eventually I found myself facing Tamra, not exactly in the field I had wanted.
We stood on opposite sides of a white practice circle on the spongy green flooring. Outside, the late summer sky was overcast, which was the exception rather than the rule, and the light filtering through the long and high wall windows was grayish.
Tamra smiled. Her face lit up when she smiled, but it was not a pleasant light at all. “Rules, Magister Gilberto?” The fingers of her heavy padded gloves tightened on the hard wood of the practice staff—the center part that was unpadded. Not that the padding on the ends was all that heavy. Her eyes were on me, as if she were studying some insect or a painting on a wall.
A wisp of her flame-red hair peeked from under the leather and wood of the padded practice helmet.
“Tamra…” began Gilberto. Then he shook his head. “No blows to face, knees, elbows or groin.”
“I can live with that,” announced the redhead.
I thought I could, also, but I didn’t like the look in Tamra’s eyes, or the instinctive ease with which she took her balanced stance. Then, again, I overtopped her by nearly a head and probably had twice her physical strength. And I hadn’t done that badly against Demorsal, one of Gilberto’s apprentices, over the past days.
Besides, Tamra deserved anything I could land on her, the arrogant bitch. Always so damned superior, as if she didn’t really belong with mere dangergeld trainees.
“Two to one she takes him…” Myrten’s raspy whisper annoyed me more than the bet. He laid odds on everything.
I couldn’t see as well as I would have liked. The helmet restricted my peripheral vision, but I felt as though Myrten had rasped his bet at Sammel. Sammel shook his head.
“Start when I tell you. And stop at the bell. Do you understand? Ready?” Gilberto stepped out of the circle, then glanced at Tamra. “Tamra?”
She nodded.
“Lerris?”
“Yes.” I nodded without taking my eyes off Tamra. I didn’t see why everyone thought a match between Tamra and me was such a big deal. She clearly had more experience, but I was stronger, and almost as quick.
Myrten probably bet on her because I’d trounced him in the last round. At least I was halfway decent at something.
“Go!”
Tamra circled to my right. I pivoted.
Thwack. I barely managed to throw my staff up to block her first thrust.
Thwack…thwack…thwack…
I danced back, still on the defensive.
Thwack…thwack…thwunk…
“…oooofff…” Her last blow crashed into my lower-right ribs. Her staff moved like lightning bolts, flashing this way, forking back, always probing.
Thwack…thwunk…
Another blow…to my ribs on the left.
Thwack…
Fwooopp…My staff slipped past hers and bounced off her upper leg.
THWUNK…
I could feel the floor rising at me, but there wasn’t anything I could do about the momentary blackness and the