He never spoke much, just followed her down to the yard, performing his duty with efficiency and honor.
When they reached the training yard, she was nervous and a little breathless.
“It’s been a few days since we trained with daggers,” Captain Staeli said as he walked in front of her to the weapons chests. “You’ve done well with underhand attacks, but today we will do overhand.”
She felt a smile tug at her mouth. In her mind, flowing like water, she instantly knew all the variations of knife fighting that had ever been taught or tried. She supposed this would be as good an opportunity as any to demonstrate to him that she was different.
Brugia, the Fountain whispered to her. You will compete in the Gauntlet. Bring him with you.
Yes, Trynne answered in her thoughts, accepting the charge.
Captain Staeli rummaged through one of the chests and withdrew a long-bladed dagger. “This was made in Atabyrion,” he said, examining it. “Fair blade. See the diamond shape near the hilt?” He handed it to her. “Now, hold it with the blade downward, along your forearm—yes, exactly like that.”
Trynne stepped away from him into the yard, summoning her Fountain magic into a trickle of power.
“Let’s see how you do for starters,” he said, hunching his shoulders as he came at her with an underhand thrust. He began to feint toward her, as if he were a street brawler with only a dagger. “How would you use the blade to defend yourself? Just see what comes naturally to you.”
Trynne nodded to him, keeping herself perfectly still and not mimicking his aggressive posture. She could sense which attack was a feint and which was real, so she didn’t waste energy pacing or stepping from foot to foot. Trynne kept the blade up near her face, watching his entire body at once.
She saw the look in Staeli’s eyes as he noticed her unusual posture. Then he lunged at her.
Since she was the one defending, the magic rushed in to aid her. Trynne deflected the attack with the dagger, then stepped around and trapped his arm against her side. Dropping to her knees, she pulled him off balance. He was already moving to free himself when she pivoted on her heel and dropped lower, using her position to throw him off balance. Staeli landed on his back, his arm still trapped in her armpit, his wrist torqued around. She pulled his pinky, and when the dagger fell out of his grip, she caught it before it hit the ground.
She released his arm and rose, holding both daggers.
The look of startled surprise on his face was worth all the strawberries in Plowman’s Field.
“Swords next,” she said. “Swords against daggers. I’m ready for you, Captain. Get on your feet.”
He blinked and then quickly rose, chafing his elbow and giving her an appraising look. “I get the swords?”
She nodded and then held both daggers underhanded.
Staeli fetched two short swords from the chest and began slicing the air with them as he shook loose his arms and shoulders. His face was one of determination.
“Are you going to attack me, Captain?” she asked. “Or do you just want to swing your arms about?”
He gave her a bemused look. She normally didn’t taunt him like that. Then he rushed at her, swinging both weapons at once in a hasty lunge that brought him close in just a moment. Trynne had him unarmed in less than a minute, one of her daggers at his throat. His response was to grapple her arm and try to fling her down, and that’s when the fight became more interesting.
Captain Staeli pulled out all the various tricks from his arsenal. She countered each one, seeing how it would happen just a moment before it did and knowing exactly how to counter it to her best advantage. Her movements were short and swift and devastatingly effective. After several minutes, she had him on the ground again, controlled by a locking bar hold on his arm. His breathing was huffing with the effort and with a little hint of pain. She did not feel winded at all.
He looked about to surrender, but her new senses told her that he was going to try to kick her foot and trip her. She waited until he did, then bent her knee so that his blow missed, following up by dropping her knee down on his calf muscle, making him grunt with pain.
“Do you yield?” she asked him, tightening her grip on his arm.
He nodded, his nose crinkled with suffering, but he bit back the pain.
Trynne released him and then helped him rise. He kneaded his calf, grimacing. The dawn still had not broken yet, and he was clearly winded.
“What happened while you were away?” he said, shaking his head at her. “You’re not the little girl I trained yesterday.” He straightened, rubbing his arm next.