39th Day of Summer, 493 AV
“...And you swing the blade like so, shifting your grip as you feint to create a visual block with its flat side. If your opponent bites, only then do you execute with your real attack.”
Shara demonstrated the move to young Siiri in slow motion, moving her left dagger at eye level in a slow arc as she pantomimed a slash with the weapon. Halfway through the movement, she rolled the hilt between her fingers so that the flat of the blade was presented to her imaginary foe. As she cleared the move, she stabbed forward with the dagger on her right hand.
“If your weapon is made of polished metal, and if you can angle the blade just right, you can use it to reflect the light into your enemy’s eyes. The distraction can end the fight right there and then.”
Expertly, she twirled the daggers between her fingers so that she held them by the blades and presented the hilts to Siiri.
“Now you try it.”
The youth reached for the weapons tentatively, reverently. Unlike the daggers found in other parts of Mizahar, the Myrian version had a blade as long as a man's forearm and, at its broadest point, had a width almost as wide as an arm was thick. It was perfect for skinning the tough hides from local game, not to mention that a stab from one was sure to be lethal.
Siiri took her time feeling the weapons’ weight in her hands, testing their balance. The blades were made from tskanna tusks and thus slightly curved. She noted the small circles carved on the flat sides of the blade, inside of each was an intricate drawing of the six-tusked beasts of burden.
The girl’s regard for them was almost reverent. It was the first time she held a blooded weapon – a weapon not only used in the hunting and killing of beasts but also to slay another sentient being. Her aunt was a veteran scout of the army and has led many a raiding party against the trespassers of their land. No doubt she had seen her fair share of action outside the walls of the city.
Closing her eyes as she did so, Siiri assumed the traditional fighting stance: left foot forward with the knee slightly bent, the right foot bearing most of her weight at the back. As her eyes opened, she exploded into motion, mimicking her aunt's attack except with a slight variation: as her left weapon reached the apex of her swing, Siiri took as step forward and finished with a diagonal slash with her right, the dagger held in an underhanded grip. She retained her stance but turned to Shala, a smug grin on her lips.
“Interesting choice of attack.” Shara tapped her lips as she circled her niece. Siiri’s skill in the martial arts was improving dramatically and Shara was rightly proud of her pupil’s progress. Already, the girl had perfected all the basic attack and defense combinations and can follow her through some of the more common of the complex ones. And now she’s displayed that she can modify attack routines on the fly to suit her needs.
Shala stopped behind Siiri and kicked lightly on the girl’s leading leg, just below the knee. It quivered slightly but did not give as Siiri tensed her muscles to bring them under control. Shala suppressed a smile of approval. As she suspected, the girl had most of her weight on the front leg. In a real attack, she could easily pivot around it as a follow through of her initial attack to land behind her enemy for a devastating backstab, or spring backwards easily to avoid a counter. It showed that Siiri was thinking on her feet rather than learning by rote. Shala was impressed.
Still, she thought it would not do to compliment the girl, lest she grow overconfident in her skills or, worse, complacent.
“Why the underhand cross?” she asked instead, referring to the girl’s choice of attack.
“I think stabbing takes too long, and I’ll be overextending myself. If my enemy was expecting it, she could chop my arm off,” Siiri replied without hesitation. “I figured she’d react by ducking or moving away from the first dagger. I move closer; she can’t bring up a heavy weapon if she’s using one. The underhand also lets me keep one of my daggers close to block any attack. I could also knee her at this range.”
She did not mention that her stance gave her the potential to roll away. Not that it was ever in her mind. Headstrong and stubborn, Siiri had a habit of not retreating from a fight. It was a dangerous habit, one learned from facing conflict every day of her young life and refusing to back away from it.