Chapter Ten
Dahlia woke up feeling clear headed and not like she’d taken a psychic beating the day before. Whatever had been in Nallia’s brew had been life saving.
She reassembled her shield, extinguished the few candles that were still burning and replaced the ones that had burnt out during the night. She planned to drill her barrack members on weapons practice today, check their mental defenses again, and then release them for free form practice for their own abilities.
She tied her hair into a knot again, put on clothes more suited to training in the heat than her jacket was, and collected her axes from where she’d placed them when Kenny had appeared.
Her soldiers were assembled and she lead them to the training ground, instructed them to pair off, then walked through them, offering corrections.
She wasn’t surprised to see Borreal approaching with his own barrack. He sent his men to pair off then approached her.
“Captain DeMorra, you’re looking refreshed today, I’m glad.”
“Indeed. It’s amazing what a decent sleep will do for you.”
“I hope you don’t mind the suggestion but I seem to be without a partner, would you like to spar? I’ve found that a good match helps to clear my mind.”
“I’d be happy to. My barrack could definitely learn something just from watching you.”
Borreal smiled, “Don’t think flattery will convince me to hold back.”
Dahlia returned his smile, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She turned to her barrack, “Alright Barrack Ten, clear the field! I want you to watch Captain Borreal. You can experiment with replicating his methods after.”
Unbidden, Borreal’s men stopped as well to watch their captain spar with the tall, young captain of Barrack Ten.
Dahlia retrieved her axes from the sheath on her hips and gave them a spin, warming up her wrists. Borreal pulled out his sword, average length and thin, black like her axes.
They circled each other, both out of fighting stance, merely observing, watching for the smallest opening. Dahlia went on the offensive first, darting to her opponent’s side and lashing out with her right hand, spinning on her foot to move behind him and follow through with the weapon in her left. Borreal countered with little effort and spun the opposite direction so they wound up facing each other. Dahlia changed the trajectory of her weapon so it made a tight sweep across his midsection.
Borreal stepped lightly back then rocked forward, striking towards her left side as her swing caused her to expose her it. Dahlia let the swing take her further to the left, kicking up at Borreal’s sword hand with her left shin. The kick barely landed as he pulled the arm up and brought the sword around, chasing her as she wheeled back.
Dahlia brought her ax up to catch his sword and lashed out a fast kick to his knee, forcing him to step back again, stopping his advance. He pivoted back onto the other leg to circle to her left. The sword swept up and zipped towards her again. Anticipating it she was able to meet it with the heads of both axes, rotating them to choke the blade. Then she twisted, forcing the blade down and opening up Borreal’s chest for a strike. She planted her foot in his chest as she held the sword, not doing much damage but forcing him back so she could continue to press her attack.
Borreal skipped back, taking the blow and watching her come. He lashed out as he moved. Dahlia pivoted out of the way but barely in time. She was forced to retreat herself as the blade snapped quickly after her.
They continued on, Borreal’s experience and slight speed advantage evenly matched against her reach and dual weapons. Then Dahlia misstepped. She saw Borreal land heavily on his left so she rammed into him, hoping to send him off balance. Too late she realized it had been a ploy. She pushed him backwards but he grabbed onto her arms, rolled over his back and kicked her in the chin while she was off-balance. She saw stars but managed to counter his next two thrusts by throwing her weapons up into a makeshift shield. She was overwhelmed playing defense though, unable to continue countering. She swept the axes apart to create space but Borreal had anticipated her and slipped through. They stopped with his sword tip resting on her chest.
Dahlia smiled, stood up, and bowed, “Once again experience wins.”
Borreal acknowledged her bow with one of his own, “Perhaps. Thank you for an excellent match.”
Dahlia motioned the barrack members back onto the training field and spent the rest of the morning pointing out where they could improve their footwork. She wasn’t the least bit disappointed in her loss. Borreal had been a captain for more than forty years before she even joined the ranks. His appearance was deceptive. Once someone with abilities reached a certain age they virtually stopped aging for the next two to three hundred years. Often around thirty but she’d seen some stop as young as twelve and as old as eighty.
Once her squad was dripping with sweat and baking in the noon summer sun she had them all troop back to the barrack for a midday meal and another session with her reinforcing their psychic defenses. Then she released them to practice their own abilities so she could catch up on the paperwork that had been mounting in her office. When she’d been a young lieutenant she’d been astounded by the amount of paperwork a military force could produce. Now she was numb to it, an obnoxious part of the job that she’d rather not delegate too much of. Sabir, ever more diligent than she was, had a habit of cleaning up after his captain that made her feel guilty.