The Currents of Magic

Chapter Two

The week steadily progressed. Despite Lorant's continued reminders that the final week of the training cycle was particularly important, Martial Training remained typical. Dobson complained whenever someone started talking about the sparring tournament or advancement, and Ian seemed to become increasingly determined on winning the Second Rank tournament. For his part, Meyer did what he always did, which was focus on getting through the week, one training session at a time. The upcoming sparring tournament did shine as a bright spot at the end of the week, but it didn't particularly help the days go by any faster. In fact, the morning conditioning runs seemed even worse than usual.

Finally, the last training session of the cycle arrived. Meyer stood at the edge of the barracks yard with around twenty other First Rank recruits, waiting for Master Hurst. Across the yard, all the other training sessions had begun, recruits standing in semi-circles around Masters or practicing maneuvers in unison. At the far corner of the yard, a group of Fourth Rank boys were sparring under the supervision of Master Tarkin.

As Meyer waited with his peers, he spotted Lorant emerge from the garrison. For a moment, Meyer was relieved to see the First-Master heading for Fourth Rank recruits, but then he walked by them, continuing towards Meyer and the other recruits in Hurst's training session. Meyer cursed under his breath. No doubt Hurst was out and Lorant was filling in for him. A half minute later, his suspicion was confirmed as Lorant came to a stop in front of the boys in Hurst's training session.

"Hurst had some business to attend to today," said the First-Master. "I'll be taking his place for today."

Meyer repressed a groan, and looked around at the other recruits in the training session. They looked equally unhappy. If Lorant noticed their defeated faces, he gave no indication.

"Today we're going to work on a counterattack called the Executioner's Bane. Dunlar, get up here so I can demonstrate. Everyone else, get into an arc so you can watch."

Lorant unslung a dulled sword from his back, and Marcus Dunlar took a few steps forward. He was tall and broad, and his hands hung by his sides like bear paws.

"Now, say Dunlar's got me off balance," said Lorant. "Maybe I'm on the ground. What's he going to do?" Lorant looked around at the boys standing in the arc, but no one said anything.

He turned to Dunlar. "You're a big guy, Dunlar, and I'm on the ground. What are you going to do?"

Dunlar shrugged. "Finish you off?" he said.

"Yeah, and how are you going to do that?" said Lorant.

"Well... uh—"

"No, don't tell me. Show me. There's a reason we give you boys swords."

Dunlar took out his sword, bringing it forward and bending his body into his combat stance.

"What are you waiting for? You just threw me off balance," said Lorant, falling to one knee in pantomime of his words. Dunlar jabbed at Lorant, and the First-Master easily batted away his sword.

"Come on, that's not going to finish me off, give me something real," said Lorant. Dunlar jabbed again, this time harder, and again Lorant deflected his attack.

"Dunlar, are you trying not to hurt me? Give me something, so I know that there is some muscle under that fat."

This time Dunlar lifted his blade above his head with both hands and swung down. Lorant dodged to his right and brought his own sword down over Dunlar's. There was a loud ringing as metal hit against metal, and Dunlar's sword fell to the ground.

"That's the Executioner's Bane," said Lorant.

The boys nodded and some loosened their swords from their sheaths, excited to try out the new move. Meyer was unimpressed. If Dunlar had been more agile, he could have easily redirected his blow mid-swing to hit Lorant. At the least, he should have been able to dodge Lorant's counterattack. Meyer raised his hand, but Lorant paid no attention.