The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [67]
Dreaming of him again?
Rosette looked up to see Drayco pacing towards her, a limp brown rabbit in his mouth. You brought your own lunch, I see.
And you look like you let the opponent win.
I did.
Any particular reason?
Yeah. He was superior.
Drayco lay down in the shade near her and tackled his lunch. You’ll improve.
I’m glad you think so.
She roughed his neck and turned to the east. There the Prieta Mountains jutted up like dragons’ teeth, sheer, majestic, treacherous. The sky was not so blue in that direction, more a cool mauve. It wasn’t the softest of views, yet it offered inspiration. She thought she must be less like the sea, more like the mountains—less thrashing, more impervious.
When she had finished eating, she meditated on those distant peaks, allowing the breeze and the sky and the blossoms and the sun to flow in and out of her with each breath. She let the magnitude of Gaela instil her with strength. Soon she felt ready to face An’ Lawrence, and for once she wasn’t thinking of impressing him. She was thinking of how she might survive his instruction when they sparred.
The Sword Master was like those mountains to the east: magnificent, imposing, untouchable. She knew she had no chance, physically, against him with a sword. That wasn’t the question, or the point. She would have to use her wits to avoid being hammered, and he would see if she could be even for a moment. She was there to learn and he to instruct. Perhaps if she did it subtly enough, she could augment her skills with a little help from the Elementals?
Risky, isn’t it, Maudi?
A bit.
It was taboo to boost with magic during training. People got hurt that way. It was taught to journeymen only after years of preparation. Rosette had learned it from Maka’ra, four summers ago, and she’d been sorely tempted to use the technique when sparring with Zero. She’d resisted.
You coming to watch, Dray?
She asks me to stay clear of her grounds.
She?
The one who hides.
And you obey?
Of course.
Rosette laughed and kissed the top of his head.
Good luck, Maudi.
I’ll need it. How much more of this can I take?
Apparently much more.
Standing face to face, wooden swords gripped high above their heads in both hands, Rosette readied for attack. She had no intention of being intimidated. None. This was their fourth and final sparring round.
So far, after drilling her in a set of basic forms for over an hour, An’ Lawrence had dropped and pinned her within seconds, three times running. If she didn’t use some magic soon, she would have no face to save.
Rosette sprang. Lunging forward with her right leg, she dipped her sword in a flash and swung a wide arc towards the left side of the Sword Master’s chest. Too wide. Too slow. He countered effortlessly with a downward block. She swung again, this time to his right shoulder. Blocked again.
With each attack, she became more frustrated, swinging harder, wilder. Suddenly he turned his sword, flat of the blade towards her chest, and propelled her backwards off her feet. She felt it coming, that extra push. There was magic in it, not just brute force. Was he taunting her? Two could play that game.
Rosette let the momentum of his force drive her backwards. She tucked her chin, curled like a pill bug and hit the ground in a somersault. She was on her feet in an instant, blade fixed towards his heart as he bounded forward.
‘Well done,’ he said, loud enough for the gathered audience to hear.
Every sword student in Treeon, and more than a few teachers, had assembled to watch. Rosette ignored the cheers and stayed focused.
‘I’m nowhere near done,’ came