Untouched (Untouched #1)(Old Work)

Chapter Sixteen

The training room was filled with nothing other than the strictest silence as Ellen stood in one spot, as rigid as she could. She was nervous.

Although she had the freedom to move about, she wasn't sure of Dvorak's training techniques and found it safest to keep still and out of his way. She watched as the beefy, elderly man in front of her scrimmaged through a peeling black suitcase, his back to her. He finally cleared his throat, found what he was looking for and turned to face Ellen. He wasn't much taller than she was but she still found him strangely intimidating.

"They tell me you are good, somewhat of a prodigy and the infamous century-born," he drawled, emphasising every word. He circled his fingers as he spoke as if he was explaining something. In his other hand, he held a long, black piece of cloth which pooled on the ground.

"Well, I don't know about that," she replied. She didn't know what else to see. She didn't want to give the impression that she was arrogant, nor the impression that she was full of self-doubt.

He stared at her, now twirling the cloth with his fingertips. "What I am about to teach you lass, is something not even the best and advanced of our kind can accomplish. Not only is it difficult, but it is also unspoken about as it can be regarded as despicable and a sign of pure evil. If you want to live a full life – if you want to live – I suggest you keep everything we do to yourself. Only you, myself, Hans and Claudia knows what is going on inside this room. If you tell anyone what we are doing, I will deny it and you will be seen the fool and a rotten liar. Am I clear?"

Ellen swallowed hard. She found her hatred for the man growing. He continued with his speech; a speech, she assumed, that was built on his loathing of her.

"They seem to want me to teach you so you can have these tools as part of your arsenal and to protect yourself to greater avail. But we will really see just how talented you are, won't we Miss Winton? Or should we call you Miss Grey as you seem to be his little pet?"

She flinched as he spoke her last name, she flinched again as he spoke about Hans. "Yes sir. I have a question."

He stared at her, his eyes burning with the hate he was inflicting on her. "And what would that be? We haven't even started."

"How are you supposed to teach me how to enter a Necromancer and channel the darkness if there is not a single one in sight?" She pressed onwards. "Or do you happen to be chum-buddies with one in this manor?"

He strode towards her, his face getting redder and redder underneath the dim lighting of the room. She closed her eyes as he lifted a hand to strike her but the strike never came. "I don't give up on hopeless causes like you but another move like that and I will certainly discipline as I see necessary, you stupid little girl."

Ellen opened her eyes to see him lowering his open palm. He then lifted his other hand, the one carrying the piece of material that he had extracted from his briefcase. "This is a blindfold, if you haven't figured out as much. During your training, you will have absolutely no vision because you need to concentrate and focus only on the task at hand. You'll do something wrong either way, but you can't have too much stimulus."

Dvorak walked behind her and put the middle of the cloth across her forehead which spanned down to her nostrils. She was plunged into an uncomfortable darkness,] and her senses went into a state of frenzy. He then pulled tight and knotted the ends together. "You can breathe, yes? Not that it matters to me."

"Yes but," Ellen murmured, running her hands along her forehead wear the blindfold cut into her skin. "It's a bit tight."

"Fantastic. First things first. It's no use teaching you to do anything else, unless you can recognise a Necromancer which means being able to detect them. Tell me, what are the signs that they are near?" She hated not being able to see where he was. Dvorak's voice seemed to drift around the room, floating around her.