Her True Form

“Come at me. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” Gervas said, standing opposite Yvette with a blunted longsword in his hand.

“Are you sure?” she asked nervously. Unlike the blunt sword he was using, she wielded her dagger in her right hand, the tip aimed at him. Even with the padding they both wore, she doubted it would offer much protection against the sharp blade. “What if I hurt you? What if I stab you?”

“I’ve been stabbed before. I find it unlikely you’ll get close enough.”

She nodded and then stepped forward, thrusting the tip at him.

Gervas easily stepped aside from the blow, bringing the edge of his blade against her hand. The dagger dropped from her grasp and, even through the padding, it felt as if her hand had been smashed. She pulled her hand back, clutching it to her chest. “O-ow, you--” She yelped when she found the tip of his blade at her throat.

“Pick it up and try again.”

She whimpered and slowly knelt down to pick up the blade. Again and again she repeated the motion, each time he moved to one side or the other, slapping her hand or knocking the blade away with the flat of his blade.

With every strike, her hand ached more and more, her fingers going numb from the abuse. Her frustration and anger only growing. She wondered if he was doing this on purpose, just another excuse for him to beat her. Her anger finally snapped and she charged in, desperately trying to stab him in the chest. This time, when he deflected, his left hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Better.”

“B-better?” she asked, staring at him. “I didn’t come close.”

“The idea wasn’t for you to come close. I have been training since I was a child, if you were able to get even close to me on your first day, there would be no way I would still be alive,” he said with a laugh. “But you were really trying to stab me there, weren’t you?”

Yvette’s cheeks burned and she nodded. “Y-yes. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? That’s what I told you to do.”

She stared at him. “You’re mad. Are you trying to die?”

Gervas shook his head. “I am a professional, Yvette.” Her heart jumped and she found herself listening even closer, a warm glow flowing from him using her name. “I’ve been training with weapons since I was a child. I’ve had more weaponmasters than you’ve likely ever seen. I’ve also been dealing with you mages for years and there’s one thing I’ve learned.”

“What’s that?”

“You really tend to not like getting your hands dirty.”

She flushed. “I-I had no problems with cleaning that room. I told you that--”

“Not that kind of dirty,” he said with another laugh. “Dirty as in blood. A dagger is useful for a lot of things, but it’s not the most effective weapon when fighting an armed opponent. Most mages don’t know how to use any weapon, even though most of you carry at least something. A dagger is a good tool, but it takes time to master since it lacks reach. I’m not going to be training you to master it, we don’t have time for that.”

She glared at him. “So this entire exercise was pointless?”

“No. In your case? You have magic. What you want to do is learn how to use a dagger for defense.” He reached down and gripped the dagger, reversing it so the blade pointed down.

“What? But that’s not how you hold a sword!”

“You aren’t using a sword. If someone is using a sword, you do not want to be fighting their way. You will lose. Especially if they have any amount of training.” He wrapped her fingers tightly around the handle, moving it down. She could feel the blunt edge of the blade against her arm. “Hold it like this.”

“How could I cut anyone, then?”

“You’re not trying to cut anyone. If you get the chance? Great. But your goal is to stop them from killing you. Rest the blade against your arm, then stand like this...” he said before moving lower to the ground. “Keep yourself lower to the ground, don’t keep your legs too close together, take wide, long steps when you move. Do not step just backward, step back and to the side, circle around them.”

“You’re teaching me how to run away?” she asked softly.

“Yes. You’re not going to be fighting anyone with that dagger of yours. Your job is to get away. To run. If you back away straight, they’ll be able to just run forward at you. Chances are, they’re faster. If they’re trying to kill you, they’re likely better armed as well. Your only focus needs to be on keeping as much distance between you and them until either they give up, help arrives or you can use your magic to fight back.”

She nodded, looking down at the dagger. “Why even use it, then? Wouldn’t it be better to just run away?”

“Turning your back on someone who’s trying to kill you isn’t a good idea, especially if they’re close enough. Now. You want to watch for anything you can use as a weapon.”

“But I already have a weapon! I--”

“You might not always. Throw chairs, dirt, rocks, anything. Defense. An extra second or two could be all the advantage you need in a desperate situation. Now, sheath your dagger. I’m going to get you a practice weapon.”

“Wait, what? But I thought you wanted me to use this?”

“No, I wanted you to feel how it feels to try and stab someone. It wasn’t easy, was it?”

Her cheeks burned and she lowered her eyes. “I mean… it was...”

“How did it make you feel? Knowing what you had in your hand, knowing what could happen if you had hit me?”

Yvette shuddered. She’d imagined cutting him, knowing that if her blade hit him, there was always the possibility he could die. Even if it was unlikely, the wrong movement could have ended poorly. “It felt scary, I guess. Sorry.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you sorry?”

“It’s a dagger, I’m supposed to try and hurt when I stab with it, aren’t I?”

He chuckled and then reached out, ruffling her hair. “No, Yvette. It’s not easy, for most. I’ve met a few people who can kill without a second thought. Most people don’t realize it, though. They think the moment they get in a real fight, when their life is on the line, that they’ll be able to do it. Then they hesitate and get killed themselves. That’s what I wanted you to see.”

“Oh. How many people have you killed?”

“Don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “More than I’d like, less than I could have.” He tapped her dagger. “Now, put this away. The training we’re going to do is a lot more dangerous with live steel than it would be with practice. Unlikely or not, the last thing I think either of us need is for you to accidentally cut me open.”

“I’d rather not...” she mumbled before sheathing her dagger.

What happened then was one of the most physically exhausting times of her life. Every time she stepped wrong, her stance fell or her grip loosened, he barked out an order. Even through the padding, the dulled blade of his created painful marks across her body.

In the end, she could count the number of times she managed to fully block his sword on one hand, with the majority of her actual blocks resulting in more of a partial hit. She was almost fully soaked in sweat when she finally couldn’t take it any more and fell backwards, collapsing on the ground and panting from exertion. “P-please… I can’t...”

To her surprise, he lowered his blade and, rather than striking her until she got up, he instead held out his hand to help her up. “You did very good, Yvette.”

“I did terribly.”

“It was your first time. Besides, let me tell you one last little secret.”

“What?” she asked before taking his hand and letting him haul her to her feet. She offered him the dagger, her fingers so tired she could barely resist dropping it.

“Most people aren’t very good.”

Her eyes widened. “W-what?”

“Most people aren’t any good at this. They don’t have the time to practice. You’ll meet a few brawlers, some who are okay with a staff. But aside from professionals like myself and those with the wealth to hire good teachers and the time to practice, most can barely do more than, how you put it, stab the pointy end in the thing they don’t like. Most won’t try to pick a fight with a mage, of course. But the more you learn, the better off you’ll be when anyone tries to hurt you.”

She nodded. “You think I’ll get into that much trouble?” she asked softly.

“You’re a mage,” he said, his voice unamused. “You’re guaranteed to be in trouble, one way or another. This is just the basics, anyway. You should be thankful, my first weaponsmaster would work you until you passed out, then toss you in a river so you would wake up and could start over again.”

“Did… did he really?”

Gervas didn’t answer, instead he walked away from her, placing the weapons onto the racks, before removing his padded garments. She felt more frustration when she realized that, while hers were nearly soaked through with sweat, his seemed perfectly dry.

“Don’t heal those bruises.”

“What?” she asked, staring at him.

“Don’t heal those. Focus on them.”

“But why? What do I get out of them?”

“Incentive to get better. Think of it like the stables,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, there’s still a lot more to teach you. You may want to save your magic for that.”

“Fine,” she said with a roll of her eyes before walking towards the keep. She swore, if her bath wasn’t ready, she’d draw one up herself.