Amagro Dreygun's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

The morning after the leanbear, Amagro woke sore but whole. Grondallynn's magic had knit her flesh, yet her muscles still burned. She rose before the others and walked to the temple yard. Its steep silver walls threw long shadows across the training ground. She had one month to close a two-year gap. She meant to start now. The other warriors gathered as the sun climbed. They paired off for sparring. Amagro drew her katana and faced the first who challenged her. He was broad and quick. She read his shoulder before he moved, slipped his cut, and set her blade against his throat. He froze. The yard went quiet. A second came. She beat him faster. A third, faster still. Warriors who had trained here for years fell to her in three strokes, four, five. She did not think about it. Her body simply knew where the blade should go. By midday she had beaten every fighter who dared step forward. Her rival watched from the edge, fists wrapped, and did not raise her hand. Amagro lowered her sword. Sweat ran down her arms. She felt something she had not let herself feel before. She was better than all of them. The gap Rahmar warned about did not seem real anymore. A shadow crossed the ground. Rahmar walked into the ring, cape dragging in the dust. He drew his long sword. The triangle marks around his eyes did not move. "You think the tournament is won," he said. "Show me." Amagro raised her guard. She struck first, fast as she had all morning. Rahmar was not there. Her blade cut empty air. His sword tapped her wrist, light as a finger. She spun and cut again. He stepped past it and pressed the flat of his blade to her spine. "Dead," he said. She attacked harder. She used every trick that had won her the yard. He answered each one before it finished. He never rushed. He never struck to wound. He only showed her, again and again, exactly where she had left herself open. Her lungs heaved. Her arms shook. She could not touch him once. He stepped back and sheathed his sword. "You are the second-best blade here," he said. "That is your problem. Second best loses the tournament." Amagro stood breathing hard. The pride from the morning was gone. Every warrior she had beaten now watched her fail against one man. "Your rival trained two years and cannot beat you," Rahmar said. "I can beat you without trying. The winner of this tournament will fight like me. Not like them." He turned toward the temple. "So I will teach you what I know. If you can survive it." He walked through the open doorway and did not look back. Amagro looked at her own trembling hand. Being the best of the yard meant nothing. She had to become something the yard could not make. The real training started now.