Flashback The Pointy End

[Nythis Drawne]

Kendoka Sasaran, 4'th of Autumn, 341 AV

Nythis’ courage wavered as he stood on the sidewalk of the Kendoka Sasaran. He was in an agony of uncertainty and it didn’t help that Sithyn was nagging to rather go to the library in their precious free time.

The Akalak who had come to Erod and demanded that Nythis resume his training had been a master from the sasaran that he remembered from the days before. Erod had agreed rather quickly to the large blue Akalak’s request, even as the hunter threw Nythis a glare.

He didn’t want to displease the stern weapon master either. But he was afraid. He hadn’t practised in ages and there would be boys that he knew… Boys he had hardly talked to in the past two years. He clenched and relaxed his right fist in a steady rhythm, the too-tight scars on the back of his hand stretching taught with the motion.

He took a deep breath and and ran to the doors before Sithyn could change his mind for him.

Inside the training session had already begun. He was late. He swallowed as his entry caught the attention of one of the instructors. The Akalak pointed to the group lined up at the far end of the sasaran.

The babies? They wanted him to train with the babies? One of the little six year olds licked their finger and stuck it in their friend’s ear, who squealed. He looked at the instructor incredulously. The Akalak repeated the gesture before returning his attention to the older boys he was working with.

Reluctantly, he headed over to the group he had been assigned to.

“Ah, Nythis. Good to see you back. Get into line and let’s see if you remember your footwork.”

Nythis almost smiled when he recognized the voice of his first instructor. It was an animated voice, filled with the promise of games and unexpected trips to Semele park. The jovial red akalak reached down and ruffled his hair.

The six year olds fell silent. Nythis remembered himself and his scars and wondered how he could have forgotten. A sharp reminder from the instructor had them back to doing their exercise.

It was more difficult than he remembered. The series of steps that felt so familiar, yet managed to escape him somehow. He couldn’t get into the rhythm of the movement. He bumped into the boy next to him. He looked up at Nythis, his eyes growing wide before he backed into the boy next to him in his hurry to get away. Nythis glared, angry at the fear in the boy’s face. They went sprawling to the floor. It turned into a wrestling match in a moment before the instructor broke up the game.

[Nythis Drawne]

“Off your heels. Weight on the ball of your foot. Yes, that’s better isn’t it?” The instructor watched him move back and forth. Attack, pass, retreat and a few simple variations on the movement.

“See, your feet are spaced much better now. You were too wide on the attack and to close on the retreat.”

Nythis nodded and focused on keeping his weight on the front of his feet.

“Tell me, what happens when our feet are too wide?” The instructor asked.

The whole group seemed to shout the answer at once.

When the instructor ignored their shouting until they seemed to remember themselves and raised their hands.

Nythis listened to the instructor explain, remembering the answer and a dozen other things he had forgotten. There was so much that he would need to relearn and rediscover. How was he going to catch up with the other boys again? He risked a look towards the other boys. There was a few in conversation, probably taking a break from their training. A pair of pale gold eyes met his. They belonged to a boy he had once considered a friend. Before. Nythis turned away and continued with the set of exercises.

“Right, you two, go and get the practice lakans. Today you’ve shown me that you can behave responsibly enough to wield a blade. The instructor’s face was comically solemn. Nythis wondered how he could have fallen for the act when he was younger. It was just a wooden lakan anyway. He watched the younger Akalaks’ excitement with contempt.

The lakan’s wooden hilt was worn smooth and shiny with frequent use, with many small scratches on the blade. The instructor came by, correcting grips and stances.

“Like this.” The instructor said, taking Nythis’ hand and correcting his grip. “You’ll break your wrist if you hold it like that and you receive a hard blow. Point it slightly upwards. Good. Now remember your feet.”

He turned to speak to the rest of the group.

“Right, I want to see your three grips.” He demonstrated the movements, explaining as he settled into each one, the lakan in his hand sliding into the different positions effortlessly.

Nythis’ hand felt clumsy and he dropped the blade more than once as the hilt slid from his fingers as he shifted his grip. Just as he was starting to get it right the instructor’s voice rang out again.

“Partner up with the person closest to you. Everyone ready? Very well. I want you to imagine you’re fighting an armed opponent. Tell me, are you going to use stabbing or slicing attacks?”

The instructor nodded at the boy who answered.

“Yes. Stabbing. Where are you going to stab?”

Another answer. Nythis filed the information away as eagerly as the rest of the children. Even Sithyn was getting interested.

“That’s right. Neck, armpits, knees. Any gap you can find you aim for. Your opponent also has a longsword. Tell me, where should your lakan meet the other blade? Close to the hilt or far from it?”

Nythis knew the answer well before one of the other children spoke. He remembered making the mistake of catching a longer blade near the tip when he had been practising. He’d jarred his arm badly from the impact of the other blade. His wrist had been sore for days.