"Kindle"
A sneak peek of a longer piece that I'm writing for an assignment. It's a work in progress, so some parts might sound clumsy.
Planting the sole of his boot on my chest, he pushed me back onto the icy ground with an almost contemptuous shove, sending my sword skittering across the cobblestone. My entire body ached, and my breath came in ragged gasps. It had been an agonising effort to force myself to rise to my knees-and now here I was again, a shuddering mess of sweat and grime.
As I lay there panting up at the night sky, a pair of steel-clad boots thudded down in front of me, signalling the arrival of my assailant. I fought to raise my eyes to their owner, blinking away the spots of light that were dancing at the edge my vision. Failure to show respect was not a matter treated lightly, and I had no desire to discover the consequences.
The Captain’s pale blue eyes regarded me emotionlessly. “What is your name?”
If I had not been almost delirious with fatigue, I would have been confused by the question. In that moment, however, I would have done anything to appease him-anything to earn a moment’s respite.
“S-Sa...” I coughed, struggling to keep myself from retching. “Sabre, Captain. M-my name…is Sabre.”
Gods, I sounded pathetic.
“Sabre?” His short bark of laughter resounded inside my throbbing head, and it took everything I had to not squeeze my eyes shut against the stabbing pain. “I see no Sabre here-only a weak-willed wench grovelling at my feet.”
In the windows behind him, I could see dark figures silhouetted against the frosted glass, watching me. Mocking me.
Captain Arcturus dug the toe of his boot into my side, as if to remind me of the reason for their unfailing attendance every week. “You wish to end this? Then best me.”
I struggled to lift myself off the sleet-covered ground, arms shaking under the weight of my armour. Dimly, part of me realised that much of next day’s free time would be spent in front of the anvil, hammering away the blows rained down upon it by the Captain’s tireless arm.
As I staggered towards my sword, its muddied blade glinting defiantly in the scattered torchlight, his voice followed me across the courtyard. He was following me leisurely, each one of his footfalls precise-calculated.
“Do you know what I see?”
I could not answer. It was hard enough to keep stumbling forward in a straight line.
Another step echoed in the darkness behind me. “I see someone who has lost the will to fight.”
I watch her kneeling at her place before the bonfire, hiding from the world behind a veil of silver-blonde hair.
One of my feet slipped on the slick ground, and I fell sprawling into a pool of snow and sludge.
A third, closer this time. “I see someone who has lost all hope.”
The flame sputters, and I see her nibble at her lower lip uncertainly. After a moment’s hesitation, she reaches into the folds of her ash-blackened robes, producing a single twig.
Reaching out unseeingly, I felt my clammy fingers close around the sword’s cold hilt.
A fourth step; his shadow fell over me. “I see someone who has lost to will to live.”
With a murmured prayer, she feeds the tiny branch into the fire, coaxing a few sparks from its yellow core. My heart clenches in my chest, and I step out into the flickering light.
“No!”
With a strangled cry, I lurched to my feet and lunged at him blindly. The clash of steel rang off the grey walls as I hacked and swung, nine years of gruelling drills being consumed in a blaze of anger-a cloud of fear.
She smiles up at me weakly as I approach, sweeping loose strands of hair away from her face with a slender hand. She tries to hide it, but I can see the wet tracks where her tears have run down her soot-streaked face.
The sound of breaking metal penetrated the haze in my mind, and I found myself crushed against the far wall.
“Enough!”
My vision gradually began to clear, and I could not prevent the gasp that escaped from my lips.
Arcturus was panting heavily before me, his breath hot on my exposed face. Blood was trickling from a gash on his brow, thin rivulets seeping into his greying beard. He had abandoned his weapon, and was using both of his hands to pin my sword arm above my head. Managing to look past him, I could see the reason why.
His sword was jutting out of the snow behind him, its blade snapped clean in half a few inches above the guard.
Staring at Arcturus in shock, I had one last thought before slumping unconscious to the ground, overwhelmed by fatigue.
Forgive me, my sister.
Planting the sole of his boot on my chest, he pushed me back onto the icy ground with an almost contemptuous shove, sending my sword skittering across the cobblestone. My entire body ached, and my breath came in ragged gasps. It had been an agonising effort to force myself to rise to my knees-and now here I was again, a shuddering mess of sweat and grime.
As I lay there panting up at the night sky, a pair of steel-clad boots thudded down in front of me, signalling the arrival of my assailant. I fought to raise my eyes to their owner, blinking away the spots of light that were dancing at the edge my vision. Failure to show respect was not a matter treated lightly, and I had no desire to discover the consequences.
The Captain’s pale blue eyes regarded me emotionlessly. “What is your name?”
If I had not been almost delirious with fatigue, I would have been confused by the question. In that moment, however, I would have done anything to appease him-anything to earn a moment’s respite.
“S-Sa...” I coughed, struggling to keep myself from retching. “Sabre, Captain. M-my name…is Sabre.”
Gods, I sounded pathetic.
“Sabre?” His short bark of laughter resounded inside my throbbing head, and it took everything I had to not squeeze my eyes shut against the stabbing pain. “I see no Sabre here-only a weak-willed wench grovelling at my feet.”
In the windows behind him, I could see dark figures silhouetted against the frosted glass, watching me. Mocking me.
Captain Arcturus dug the toe of his boot into my side, as if to remind me of the reason for their unfailing attendance every week. “You wish to end this? Then best me.”
I struggled to lift myself off the sleet-covered ground, arms shaking under the weight of my armour. Dimly, part of me realised that much of next day’s free time would be spent in front of the anvil, hammering away the blows rained down upon it by the Captain’s tireless arm.
As I staggered towards my sword, its muddied blade glinting defiantly in the scattered torchlight, his voice followed me across the courtyard. He was following me leisurely, each one of his footfalls precise-calculated.
“Do you know what I see?”
I could not answer. It was hard enough to keep stumbling forward in a straight line.
Another step echoed in the darkness behind me. “I see someone who has lost the will to fight.”
I watch her kneeling at her place before the bonfire, hiding from the world behind a veil of silver-blonde hair.
One of my feet slipped on the slick ground, and I fell sprawling into a pool of snow and sludge.
A third, closer this time. “I see someone who has lost all hope.”
The flame sputters, and I see her nibble at her lower lip uncertainly. After a moment’s hesitation, she reaches into the folds of her ash-blackened robes, producing a single twig.
Reaching out unseeingly, I felt my clammy fingers close around the sword’s cold hilt.
A fourth step; his shadow fell over me. “I see someone who has lost to will to live.”
With a murmured prayer, she feeds the tiny branch into the fire, coaxing a few sparks from its yellow core. My heart clenches in my chest, and I step out into the flickering light.
“No!”
With a strangled cry, I lurched to my feet and lunged at him blindly. The clash of steel rang off the grey walls as I hacked and swung, nine years of gruelling drills being consumed in a blaze of anger-a cloud of fear.
She smiles up at me weakly as I approach, sweeping loose strands of hair away from her face with a slender hand. She tries to hide it, but I can see the wet tracks where her tears have run down her soot-streaked face.
The sound of breaking metal penetrated the haze in my mind, and I found myself crushed against the far wall.
“Enough!”
My vision gradually began to clear, and I could not prevent the gasp that escaped from my lips.
Arcturus was panting heavily before me, his breath hot on my exposed face. Blood was trickling from a gash on his brow, thin rivulets seeping into his greying beard. He had abandoned his weapon, and was using both of his hands to pin my sword arm above my head. Managing to look past him, I could see the reason why.
His sword was jutting out of the snow behind him, its blade snapped clean in half a few inches above the guard.
Staring at Arcturus in shock, I had one last thought before slumping unconscious to the ground, overwhelmed by fatigue.
Forgive me, my sister.