The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [51]
Whoops and hollers burst out around her as the apprentices finally froze, sword hands thrust forward, bodies facing each other in a deep lunge. Then they stood back, briefly lowered their eyes in an almost imperceptible bow and sheathed their weapons in perfect synchronicity. As they backed away two more students stepped up, executing progressively more complex forms, their movements astonishing. The drum-beat increased, sending chills up her spine.
Each demonstration proved more intricate and hazardous than the one before. Rosette took a deep breath when the High Priestess and Sword Master An’ Lawrence walked to the centre of the stage, squared off, and drew their swords. The ring of steel sang over the assembly.
La Makee had dropped her robe, her hair a tail of fire behind her. Both she and the Sword Master were barefoot, and they moved at precisely the same instant. Rosette watched wide-eyed, the complexity mesmerising. Maka’ra hadn’t taught the forms like this. He had said, I teach you island-style. It is not as they do in the temples. It will save your life if you trust it. He’d talked of the sword forms as living things, and sparring as a chance to let the soul of the sword speak. Rosette smiled. Their souls were certainly speaking now.
With the speed of a striking snake the High Priestess lunged towards the Sword Master, her shield arm blocking a blow. The cut was repelled by An’ Lawrence, and the warrior-priestess did a backflip towards the row of apprentices who stood to the side of the stage, drawing one of their swords with her free hand before she landed. Facing her opponent, she dropped to a forward roll and rose, blades inches away from the Sword Master’s face.
The sound of the drums reverberated up Rosette’s legs as she gasped. The blocks and attacks were so quick that she couldn’t follow the blur of movement. La Makee pressed him back, but An’ Lawrence dropped down with a spinning kick and rolled to the other side of the stage. Squaring off again they faced each other for an instant, bowed slightly and resumed.
After another series of full attacks and counterattacks, fast and fluid, An’ Lawrence and La Makee were in a deadlock, face to face, hilt to hilt, swords pointed to the sky. No-one in the crowd seemed to breathe.
In a feat of sizable strength the High Priestess suddenly did a standing backflip away from her attacker, her bare feet aiming to kick his hilt away as she landed. Not quick enough. The Sword Master had dropped to his knees, dodging the kick. He sprang back up, pointing the tip of his blade straight at the High Priestess’s throat as she landed. Rosette swallowed hard. There was no way out of this one.
As Rosette brought her knuckle to her mouth, a shock wave blasted her face. The outline of the High Priestess darkened and blurred. In a blink, the Sword Master’s blade no longer held the witch captive. He stood there, guarding thin air. His eyes shot upwards, and so did Rosette’s.
Above them a Lemur Raven, the size of an eagle, spiralled towards the sky, shrieking a fierce challenge, or was that laughter? The crowd burst out with resounding cheers, waving and pointing at the bird. The Sword Master sheathed his sword and held out his bare arm while the raven coursed above the stage then back-winged to a graceful landing, talons lightly circling his wrist. The image of the bird darkened and blurred. In a swirl of energy La Makee manifested, standing in its place and bowing to her opponent, her hands clasped in front of her in the traditional gesture of respect. Rosette had never seen such a demonstration of shape-shifting and she cheered wildly along with the rest.
When the applause died down, La Makee spoke. ‘Fight them with all the skills you have,’ she roared, ‘and if it looks like you have no more to fight with, flee!’
A wave of laughter rolled through the gathering. Makee picked up her abandoned sword, raising it to An’ Lawrence before sheathing it. The Sword