The Bane of the Empire

Chapter 21

She did not speak to Luke. He avoided her at dinner and following his example, she did not seek him out either. The short period of ignorant bliss had derailed her. But she woke before the sun this morning and donned her leathers. Sitting by the open window, watching the sun rise in the distance, she took in the morning air. The sun would slowing make its way to the meridian, and just as the sun rose, she would too. Only she would not set...as Luke had made her set.

Pushing off the cool stones, she gripped the sword she had grossly neglected and made her way into the courtyard. Training mannequins dotted the otherwise empty courtyard and remembering the drills Gavin had taught her, she eased back into the rhythm of swordplay. After Luke had closed the door behind him, she had thrown the sheets off her and left his chambers. She had promised herself that she would be strong, and of late she had not kept that vow. Gritting her teeth she ducked, dodging an imaginary attack and brought her sword up against the mannequins side. She had forgotten her purpose, the grief of her family making her weak to Luke's boyish charm and gentle smiles.

She had lain with him.

Adjusting her grip on the hilt of her sword, she brought the flat of her blade near her face, the sharp point extending parallel to the ground. With a snarl, she drove her sword into the heart of the mannequin.

She did not regret her nights with him, for she had taken her pleasures from him as much as he had from her. And looking back, there was never love in those caresses or stolen kisses. It was physical, animalistic, purely carnal.

Pulling her sword out from the straw mannequin, she took in the hole her sword had left.

She had taken her pleasure ten-fold and now it was time to get back to work.

"Oy! This isn't a place for kids."

An older man stood behind her with an entourage of men, all carrying different weapons.

"I'm here to train."

The man stepped forward and towered over her. There were lines around his eyes with hair just beginning to grey around his temples. He was carrying a broadsword and looking down she noticed a nasty scar on his left forearm. The skin had barely knit together and left a deep crevice where the muscle had been lost. But other than that, he was a large man and was currently trying to use his height to intimidate her.

"Run along before you hurt yourself, girl."

The man smirked and she watched as his eyes scanned her body. There was a low murmur among the men standing behind him, with some opening giving her lewd stares. There were a few who carried bows but she did not divert her gaze from the hulking figure long enough to look for a certain blond archer.

"It is kind of you to worry about my safety. But I can handle myself." She stated and adjusted her grip on the hilt of her sword. The men had gathered around and were watching the two of them. She was enjoying the exchange tremendously and wanted to know how long the old man was willing to carry this on. He appeared to be the Captain Luke had once told her about. It was obvious Luke had never told him about her and recent events suggested that was never going to happen any way. The large broadsword glinted in the rising sun and casting a look upward, she saw a few castle sentinels stop to watch the exchange.

"Let me make this clear. Women do not train here. And the men that get the privilege to train here must prove their worth if they want to learn from me. You do not stand a chance." He growled. But Dawn had been around a growling male before, and she had somehow convinced him to take her to Ilaburn. She grinned, what was a mere Captain compared to Hunter?

She raised her sword and said, "Let me prove my worth."

"Dawn, put the sword away before you hurt yourself."

She looked over the man's shoulder and sure enough Luke stood amongst the gathering crowd, a quiver of arrows and a bow clutched in his hand. She raised a brow, he had been silently listening. The men snickered, telling her to listen to Luke. Some even going as far as suggesting she needed a good tumble to get those thoughts out of her mind.

She ignored their jabs. Fuelled by the desire to prove him wrong.

The large man grumbled under his breath but walked to the centre of the clearing. He held the broadsword with two hands and waited for her to step up. Strutting toward him, and making certain to add an extra sway to her leather-clad hips, she raised her small sword and waited for his attack. He smiled seeing this, assuming that she was a delusional girl and fear was preventing her from making the first move. Yet he did exactly what she wanted him to do.

Letting out a battle cry, he came charging forward. And just as Gavin had said, underestimating an opponent meant the relinquishment of skill.

As the man neared, she moved out of the way and watched as he continued forward, pulled by the momentum of his crude attack. She noticed that the small group of men fell silent. Luke watching her every move, his eyes never leaving her.

Good, she thought. Let him see her for what she truly is. Let him watch as she fought his Captain.

And won.

"Now that we are done charging at each other like bulls, shall we truly begin?"

The man clenched his jaw, his eyes finally recognizing her as a worthy opponent.

The next attack came after a moment of silent contemplation. She could see the gears working in the man's head. He had underestimated her, he knew that now, so the next attack would be a well calculated one.

It truly was a dance. For such a large man, she thought, he was graceful on his feet. He balanced the sword in front of him and led her through the steps of his violent choreography. He led her and she allowed him to lead, until he got comfortable and ever so slightly she began to lead him. When he would attack she would dodge, when she would lunge he would retreat. But as this dance carried on, and the telltale signs of exhaustion washed over him, she began her own dance. His sword was heavy, once in his life he would have wielded the blade like a feather, but the lack of muscle in the poorly healed wound was showing its effects. She swung high and he raised his sword to deflect her attack, next she swung low so he would have to bring his massive weapon down before she sliced through his legs. Like this she carried on, forcing him to raise his sword and lower it in rapid succession. Soon there were droplets of sweat on his brow. She was small, and judging by the large frames of his men he had never fought a small opponent—never had to catch his attacker.

Seeing her chance, she sidestepped the man and brought her sword up against his forearm. Making a shallow cut across his scar, the man howled in pain and dropped his sword. His old wound had him hiding his left arm when he advanced forward. It would have gone unnoticed to anyone focussed on his weapon alone. But seeing how he shielded his arm meant that it was his weakness.

And now his downfall.

Returning her sword to its scabbard, she offered a hand to the man.

"Who taught you to move like that?"

"A friend." She answered. He took a cloth from one of his men and wrapped the wound on his arm.

"Reminded me of someone I knew years ago." The man murmured, but directing his gaze back to her he nodded. "You can train here. My name's Nic."

A/N Another chapter will be out soon! Thank you to those consistent readers that come back every week. You are the best!