From Iron and Ruin

Red Stone.

Chapter Eighteen:  Red Stone.

Matthaeus returned at the end of the week and as I rose at dawn to train, it seemed like an invitation had been extended to watch us. My knee felt good – pleasant even. The mentors in Dratlan would have been aghast at such a use of magic, but I didn't have time to ignore the comforts of magic.

Mist rolled across the packed earth, muting the orange hues of dawn in the sky. Already, loose strands of dark hair were matted to the back of my neck with sweat. Beyond our pit, recruits were standing in line, nervous as their Captain walked their ranks. Lieutenant Hoyarn stood before them, his smile hidden by the bush of his beard. Servants balanced their elbows on the fences and had made little sound as Matthaeus and I moved.

I paid them no heed.

Matthaeus did not take his eyes from me, his un-naturally beautiful face harsh in its concentration. When I shifted my grip on my staff, he caught the movement in an instant.

His lips peeled back to reveal his fangs.

Soldiers watched as we sparred, long spears thudding and thwacking, shattering the peacefulness of the morning. Matthaeus rapped me sharply on the arms but avoided striking my legs. I gave him no such mercy, relishing in every rare blow I gave him.

The air whistled with every swing, sharp and deadly. As my breathing became shallow and my cheeks flushed, Matthaeus was unchanged. Unperturbed by the rigours of the training.

"Come on, Seeker." Matthaeus laughed. "Surely you can move a little faster."

I was quick to attack, but Matthaeus was quicker. He moved, quicker than a wink and my jaw tensed, frustration getting the better of me. His staff rapped sharply off my upper arm before I could defend and when I turned, he was feet from me, that staff held pitted into the earth.

"You're hesitating," He gave me an indulgent grin. "You can move much faster than that."

"I am not hesitating." Asha'da, it was hard to breathe. I fixed my grip on my staff, blowing at an irritant hair that stuck to my lips.

"You are." Matthaeus blurred. I raised my staff and Matthaeus rained down blow after blow, relentless and dogged in his training.

Another few blows landed on my arms and my thighs.

"You've been injured," He was just a flash of black leather. I blocked him again sloppily. "Badly so and now you're afraid."

"I'm not." Gritting my teeth, I swung at him. Matthaeus blocked it easily and swung low. I knew it was coming for my legs.

I tensed.

Hesitated.

And Matthaeus swept my feet out from under me.

I landed with a jolt, blinking up into the cold blue sky. Frustration burned at my eyes, my lips pressing tight together. I was better than this. I knew I was, but my mind and my body would not work in tandem. I had been thrown around in Asthan, thrown around in the tunnels under Reline and I couldn't afford to make such sloppy mistakes.

Matthaeus held out a hand to me and I took it. "There is no shame in it, Aviana. I can only train you if you recognise your short-comings."

My throat was wired shut. "I am much better than this."

"I know you are," Matthaeus lay a hand on my shoulder, his eyes kind. "I have fought with Dratlan Elves before and I would always want one by my side, but there is something holding you back. Fear. Doubt."