Revival: Of Cethore ✔

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: The Empowerment of Defenders

"I think that you are not being challenged enough here," Samari's combat instructor has said. "You already have a fighter's instinct, and you learned the all basic stances and moves that I have shown you. Since you learn by example, I believe that you can improve twice as fast in the next class."

The words said to Samari the previous day rang in her head. She had gone to combat training only to be told that she was being moved to the next level.

She had not been in the class for long, just a few weeks, and only once a week at that. The next level class met twice a week, the first time being today. Samari had seen them training sometimes, and the class seemed kind of intense. They were usually sparring, moving faster than her eyes could follow.

The thought of having to be on the receiving side of those speedy attacks made her knees lock. Sure, she had been in plenty of fights herself--with sluggish drunkens and commoners under mind control. Her guildmates probably had more years of practice than she had.

"Hey, Sam!" Dillian's voice called out to her. She turned to see him running up to her. "I heard that you, uh, you got promoted to the next class. Congratulations! Are you heading there now?" he asked.

Nodding, she said, "Yeah. Are you in that class?"

"No, I'm working on armed combat in the next level. I'm trying to find some weapon that suits me."

Her shoulders dropped. Dillian noticed the change and noted, "But, hey, you know who is there? Cy and Lorilie and Cheryl and sometimes Addiv too."

Samari gave him a halfhearted smile. While she was grateful for him trying to make her feel more comfortable, whether or not she knew people in the class was not the reason she was nervous.

"Don't worry. I will...be alright. This is nothing that I can't...uh, cannot handle, anyways," she lied.

Although doubt crossed his face, it disappeared with a returned smile. He was not entirely convinced that she was alright, but he did not want to intrude on her if she was shutting him out--for now, at least, he would let her be.

"Well, there's no surprise in that," he replied, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I'll let you go before you are late. Make sure you tell me how it goes."

With a nod, they departed ways. Sighing, she continued to the meeting place in the field.

A group was already there when she arrived, some chatting and others doing stretches. Samari felt a chill down her spine from a presence she could not see. She looked around to find the source. Noticing her friends in a group doing warm-up exercises, she decided to silently join them in their routines.

"Alright, gather up! I do not want to yell, so come close and listen," a woman called out after some time.

Samari obeyed with everyone else. They stood closely in a semicircle around the woman, a meaty Sander probably in her mid-thirties.

"Today we are focusing on a parry. So, the attacker will come at you with a straight punch, like so," she motioned for her assistant to punch at her, "and what you want to do is direct it away from you while pivoting. During this pivot, you move your foot to behind theirs so you are cradling them like so. Next, you want to bring your other arm across your chest and push them to the ground." She stopped right before pushing him to the ground.

She showed the motion again, this time more fluidly, noting, "And this should all be done in one fluid motion. If you pause between any part, you could alert the attacker of what you are doing, and they could then counter or stand guard against it."