Chapter 8:

Chapter 8: Sparring Practice

Second Chance Savior


Rose deftly twirled her sword, spinning it and shifting it from one to the next with the gentle ease of someone who has spent a large part of their life with a blade in their hand. The fact that she managed to move this lithely in a full set of hardened leather armor was even more impressive.

“So, are you ready to get started with your training?” She asked.

“I suppose so.”

He still felt a bit drained from his spellcasting practice earlier, but that was improving by the minute. What he was recovering less quickly from was the kiss. He wanted to talk to Eleanor about it, but since she’d left the house she’d seemed to vanish. He brushed that aside for the moment, and set about cinching his gambeson. He’d deal with that later. Once his armor was snug, he hefted his axe onto his shoulder again.

“So, how does this work? Do we have practice weapons to use?” He asked.

Rose shook her head.

“Practice weapons don’t work nearly as well as the real thing for teaching.”

Jack paled a little.

“Wait, you mean we’re gonna be training with… but how will we not end up killing each other?” He asked, looking uncomfortably at the blade of his axe.

“Oh no, no. We’re not fighting with exposed blades. That would be ridiculously stupid.” Rose said, laughing. She reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a small metal container.

“Hand me your axe.” She said, gesturing towards it. Jack handed it over. She opened the small container and dipped her fingers into it, pulling out what looked like some sort of greyish paste. She smeared it gingerly along either side of the axe blade, careful to avoid the edge itself. Once she seemed satisfied, she handed the weapon back to him. He took it, looking at the blade with confusion. Whatever she’d put on there was already gone, seeming almost to have dissolved into the metal itself.

“What did you do to it?”

“Reach out and touch the edge of the blade. You’ll see.”

Jack reached out and went to touch it as she instructed. To his surprise, his hand met with something invisible an inch or so away from it. It was some sort of barrier, and was squishy but firm, somewhere between the texture of slime and a dense sponge. The further he got towards the blade, the denser and firmer the material became. He pulled his finger back, feeling the material spring instantly back in place beneath his finger as he did so.

“Sparring paste.” Rose said, anticipating his question. “Allows you to train with your own weapon without risk of chopping someone’s limbs off. You can still cause bruises and break things though, so you can’t be careless. But you don’t have to worry about seriously injuring someone unless you’re deliberately trying to.”

Jack hefted his weapon around, giving it a few practice swings. It didn’t feel any different. In fact, had he not felt the sparring paste, he wouldn’t have never known it was there. He hoisted the weapon back up onto his shoulder.

“So, are there rules to this sparring session?”

Rose smiled, giving her weapon one final spin and settling into a combat stance, her left hand in front of her, her right hand holding her blade above and beside her head, the tip pointed towards him.

“Try to win.”

Jack took a deep breath. Despite knowing that he was probably safe, his heart was still pounding. Trusting his instincts, he slid into a combat stance of his own, both hands on the haft of his axe, the weapon raised above his head in an offensive stance, one foot in front of the other.

“Ready?” Rose asked.

Jack swallowed, and nodded. “Ready.”

In a blink, she crossed the gap between them, her blade swinging downwards in a lightning-fast chop towards the place his shoulder met his neck. He twisted, sliding his right hand up the haft and catching her blade square on the weapon’s handle with a resounding crack. Following through, he spun the rest of the way, sliding his hand back down and swinging the axe at her exposed left side. Rose deftly shifted out of the way, the blade of his axe singing past a mere inch or so away from her ribs. She slid back a pace and resumed her stance as Jack dropped his axe back on his shoulder. To his surprise, his heart rate was already beginning to slow a little. He settled back into another stance, keeping his weapon on his shoulder, both hands holding it a bit like it was a baseball bat.

Rose struck out again, this time with a thrust. Jack slid backwards, the point of the weapon just touching his gambeson. He twisted and swung his weapon around to counter. This time, however, Rose rushed forward, drawing her sword back for another thrust. Before he could finish his swing, she was within his weapon’s guard. She thrust again, driving the point of her weapon into his stomach with enough force that she lifted him clear off his feet. He sailed through the air a short distance and slammed into the ground with a groan, instinctively crumpling into a ball as he tried unsuccessfully to suck some air back into his chest. Rose walked over and offered him a gloved hand.

“You alright?” She asked, helping him to his feet.

He bent over, coughing and hacking for several long moments.

“I’m… fine…” He finally managed to wheeze out as he straightened.

“Good. Let’s go again.” She walked several paces away and assumed a different combat stance. “Ready?”

“Already?” He asked, still wheezing.

Rose looked at him wryly.

“Did the goblins give you a chance to catch your breath?”

Jack sighed.

“Fair enough.” he said, falling into the same stance as before.

This time, Rose let him make the first move. He rushed her, bringing his axe down in a wide arc. She side-stepped and parried, sliding her blade along the haft of his axe and snapping it around, threatening to catch him across the neck with the blade. Jack shifted his stance, jerking his weapon back towards him and catching the blade of her sword between the blade and the handle. With one final fluid motion, he turned and drove the heel of his boot into her breastplate, sending Rose stumbling backwards a pace. She regained her footing and assumed another defensive stance. She gave him a nod. Her next strike was an upwards arc that he managed to parry, but at the expense of losing his balance. He tried to get his feet back under him, but that ended abruptly when Rose swept his feet out from under him with a kick and slammed her blade into his chest in a powerful chop as he lay on the ground. This time, she had the decency to let him catch his breath for a few minutes before they resumed again this time.

Their third bout was the longest, lasting several minutes without a clear advantage to either of them. It was clear to Jack that even this little bit of practice was helping him improve immensely, as he was finally able to start putting Rose on the defensive, if even just for a moment. The first time, he’d managed to knock her guard away and slam the butt end of his weapon into her torso, but before he could push the advantage further and land another blow, she was already out of the way. The next time, he finally managed to score a solid hit on her thigh with his axe blade as he changed strike angles at the last moment. He learned in this moment, however, not to let himself get distracted with being proud of himself. His guard slipped just slightly as he grinned and Rose managed to crack him square upside the head with her sword, hard enough to knock him clean off his feet. He awoke sometime later to the sound of someone in a fit of laughter. He worked one eye open to see Madeleine looking directly at him, nearly falling over in hysterics. He tried to sit up, but his vision swam as he did, his head throbbing. He flopped back onto the grass.

When Jack finally came to again, he found himself in his bedroll in the barn loft. Judging by the light coming in from the window, it was almost sundown. Dear god, how hard did she hit me? He sat up. It was easier this time, although he still felt dizzy. His head still pounded, but not bad enough to make him want to vomit like before. He gingerly reached up and felt where she’d hit him. There was a definite lump on the side of his head. Great. He slid out of his bedroll, noting with a groan the fresh bruises all over the front of his torso. He gingerly pulled on his boots and made his way out of the barn. His judgment had been right. It was almost evening, the sun low in the sky, smoldering yellow orange and coloring the sky and clouds in a myriad of hues. He found Madeleine sitting in the grass out front of the house again, eating something steaming out of a bowl. She glanced over at his approach. Seeing it was him, her expression shifted, and her face started turning red as she tried, and failed, to stifle another laugh. Jack looked at her flatly, pointedly setting his jaw as he walked past her and into the house.