From Mother to Son [Solo]

[Atoll Northwind]

5th of Winter, 500AV The vibrations of metal on metal rang throughout the deck of the Sextant. And Atoll had to scramble back on his butt to avoid the next swing. He scarcely flopped to his side and grabbed the portside when the next blow tousled his hair. He pulled himself upright and made to turn. But Zulphyia had not waited for her pupil to get situated. Neither did she pull her swing, she simply and elegantly twisted her blade so the flat of it burned across his shoulders. Atoll gasped out in shock more than pain, adrenaline would hold it off for a bit. He spun to face Zulphyia and got sight of her razor smile, he knew that smile, “No more.” He said then dropped his cutlass. Atoll watched her smile fall, curse it! In blink of light the flat of her blade whipped across his thigh. He knew better than to try and dodge but his body disobeyed. A quick step to the left and— The cutlass caught him under the chin. He did not move again for this was no longer his mother. This was teacher, a proud barbarian pirate with a fierce grin and angry eyes. “Don’t let me win without a fight! Imagine I’m land-scum, right now you’d be dead. And willingly! They may take your life but you don’t give it to anyone, not even me. You understand?” Atoll didn’t answer right away and felt the sting on his neck for his dallying. He stood on his toes to avoid anymore damage. “Yes Zulphyia.” For too many moments Atoll felt the cool metal, “Good. Now we break, we’ll continue after. There’s still plenty of hours in the day.” “Too many.” The boy muttered when he was sure his mother could not hear. But he knew better than to think her break was meant for him. She wanted him to practice on his own before she beat him senseless again. He’d not let her get him so easily this time. Atoll swept up his sword. It felt like an anchor on his arm. His shoulders slumped but he forced himself straight. He spread his legs to bear some of the weight then bounced a bit from side to side. The weight of cutlass tried to force him to use two hands. But he flung it behind his back. His body dropped forward some struggling to get comfortable with the weight. It didn’t seem long to Atoll but eventually he felt the familiar if not uncomfortable presence of Zulphyia judging him. And the sun was much farther down. “You’re holding it wrong.” “That was a long break.” Zulphyia stared until Atoll looked away. She squatted beside him aligning herself as he was. “Strike at me.” He didn’t question it. He straightened, hefted the cutlass with two hands and swung down at her right side. To his surprise she barely managed to block when she didn’t call quits he swung once more. Atoll knew there was a point so he struggled to lift the sword while watching Zulphyia. She couldn’t move fast enough and dropped to avoid his next blow. It shocked him when she sprang back up, the sword swinging up from below. Atoll sucked in then swung his cutlass down. Twisted together their swords gouged the deck. “Good.” Zulphyia stepped back, “Now stand properly, Atoll. Again.” “I don’t know how—“ “Because you haven’t tried!” Mother and son glared at each until the casinor rocked enough to break their gazes. Zulphyia slid into stance. Atoll copied her with opposite hands. He was sure his wrist was going to break. But he widened his feet just enough to where he felt stable, he made to squat when a blade struck him on the inner thigh. “Petch!” Atoll fell on his side the cutlass still tightly gripped. His knee burned where it touched the deck. “Too low.” “You couldn’t have just said?” “I did. Now stand.” Once more he made to mirror her but this time he inched down when he bent his knees. So focused on not getting swatted again he almost missed the moment she sprang. Obviously that’s low enough, he thought wryly then used what little strength he had to rise his blade. He felt his shoulder scream in pain or was that him? And heard his sword clatter to the deck. From behind the spots he could see Zulphyia’s amused expression. “Just like your uncle. Tomorrow we go again. Goodnight dear.” She kissed his forehead and walked to her own ship. Atoll let himself fall back on his rear and finally lick his wounds. “Womans trying to kill me.” He muttered to no one. Though his bones creaked in protest and he was sure his shoulder would never be the same Atoll floundered to his bed. Several unsteady steps later and he was dead to the world for a few peaceful hours.