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Rue's staff connected with his master's, the sound of wood on wood made a loud snap that filled his ears. "Good" Master Ned said, "now try it all in one go."
Master Ned had been teaching him a combo, one that used a quarter staff, a strong length of wood around 2 meters long.
The combo combined all the stances Rue had learned at the school, and tested his endurance, speed, strength, and dexterity.
It was a sort of rite of passage that all the students took part in during their first of five years. They were standing in the school's courtyard, where most of the physical lessons took place. It was a large square, surrounded by the other buildings belonging to the school. The floor was hard, and sturdy. Rue didn't know what it was exactly, but it crunched under his feet. He liked that, made it easier to work out where his opponent was.
He attacked, weaving the different jabs, swings, and feints into one long, smooth, elaborate dance. Master Ned blocked them all perfectly, but that was the point.
While it was exceptionally hard to fight while blind, Rue tried, he owed it to his Master for saving his life.
The wood cracked, the two stepped back and forth, and Rue felt his muscles ache from the intense movements.
It ended after about five seconds, "Well done," Master Ned said, "you still need work on your stamina, and strength, but a good workout routine will whip you into shape in a month or so."
Rue felt the burn, his arms were on fire, and he had to focus hard just to remain standing. "We shall take a short break, so you can catch your breath, then you shall duel me."
Rue felt his stomach drop, "master, are you sure, that's wise?" he said in between breaths, "of course, the ability to repeat what you've learned does not make a great fighter. I shall play defensively, of course, and you will try to touch me. The duel ends after first contact."
Shit, Rue thought, but readied himself anyway. He took one last final deep breath, then raised his staff.
"Ready" he said, "You may begin" Master Ned replied. Rue lunged immediately, jabbing at his chest, Master Ned slapped it aside easily and Rue felt his master's staff slam into his stomach.
Rue felt the air leave his lungs, and he fell to his knees, clutching his gut. "That was appalling" Rue tried to say something, but his voice wouldn't come out, "you show talent, real talent. If you work on yourself, you could be the top of the class. Easily."
How am I supposed to do that. When I can't see. The thought sent a shiver up his back, and he felt his arm itch. He got to his feet, exhaustion biting at his bones.
Memories of the prince returned to him, the curved knife, the horrible pain.
What I would give to go back.
Lyn watched the blind kid sit in his usual spot within the mess hall, he sat down with his food and ate, alone.
This was normal, he'd done so every day, and every day she'd watched with a little pity and a little frustration.
Why is he even here? She couldn't help but think. He was the lowest of the class, he didn't even spar with other students, only Master Ned ever spoke with him, and he rarely did much throughout the day.
"Whatcha looking at?" Yalvin said, bringing her back to Earth, "just thinking"
"'bout what?"
"Ever wonder why he's still in the school? Or how he enrolled in the first place?" Yalvin gave a confused look at first, then said "Oh~ yeah I wonder that all the time. With Gale's ugly mug it's a miracle Master Ned allowed him a spot"
Gale, who sat opposite her, gave him a dead stare. The same he always gave when he made jokes, "not Gale you dolt" she said, slapping him on the arm, "him" she nodded towards the blind kid, "Ah, him" Yalvin said, "now that is a mystery, you think he's related to the old man?"
"Shouldn't speak of him like that. You know he can hear you from across the grounds" Gale said, voice low and monotone, a stark counter to Yalvin's loud and expressive self. "I bet you're wondering too, aren'tcha stoneface?"
"No" Gale said plainly, to which Yalvin gave him a questioning gaze, "you know something don't you" he said, Gale's face showed the slightest bit of annoyance at Yalvin, but he hid it well.
"Master found him on the streets. He's a beggar" Gale said.
Silence.
"A beggar?" Yalvin asked, "how in the king's wrath did you find that out Gale?"
"Saw him when I first got here, he was filthy, and wearing rags. Master Edward gave him the clothes he's wearing now."
"So how did he get in?" Lyn asked to which Gale shrugged. She looked over at him again, a beggar. That explained a lot.
Rue was there again, in his room. Candles ablaze, dark voice in front of him, cold steel in his cold hand, and on his face.
He threw the dagger to his side, his arm was on fire, his back in agony. He tried to scream, tried to move, but something held him.
"You think you can undo this?" the voice said, he realised with some horror that it was his own. He stared at the black spot, trying to find whatever was inside. "Idiot" it said back. Then he went stiff. Rue struggled, not knowing what exactly he was struggling against. He felt like every bone in his body was being held, like ghostly hands were squeezing ever muscle and organ in his body. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, the grip was so fierce, he could have sworn it stopped his heart form beating too. Maybe if he died, the pain would go away, maybe then it wouldn't matter if he was blind. Or crippled, or alone, or banished.
A pure white filled his vision, and he could feel his eyes ablaze, it felt like liquid iron being pumped into his skull, he screamed, the pain unbearable, "You are already mine" the voice said, half his own, and half that of the blackness that took his vision, and he woke up.
Sweaty and panting, he bolted upright. Darkness, everywhere. He spun frantically, briefly panicked at his blindness. Then he stopped, a nightmare, just a nightmare.
His arm and back burned, like they were submerged in scorching water, "just a nightmare" he said to himself. He put his back to the wall and sat for a moment. Too awake to get back to sleep, if he wasn't blind, he'd go for a walk and clear his head. Fucking idiot. He said to himself, still having nightmares. He thought of the pact, then immediately pushed it to the back of his head, supressing it. Even after all this time, you're still having nightmares. He curled up, arms to his chest, head on his knees, holding himself. Pathetic. Fucking Pathetic. The air was cold, but he was drenched in sweat. His heart was still pumping, his chest heaving, lungs sore.
He stayed there for a while, not really sure how, until exhaustion took him once again.
