Shadow Dagger Ch. 09

"Yes," she replied. She longed to move as fast and gracefully as he did. She didn't even realize it until just now. If she survived and cleared her name, she wanted nothing more than to continue her training. She wanted to become a master swordsman with a desperation she never knew she felt.

Jon must have seen something of her thoughts on her face because he suddenly smiled. "Good, now that we have that settled, shall we begin?"

"Where do we start?"

Jon walked to a nearby cabinet and dug around for several minutes. He walked back to her, carrying what looked like a tunic and leggings. "Put these on," he told her.

Sophina grabbed the tunic and gasped. It was very heavy. She felt along the cloth and discovered small lumps sewn all over the tunic. She looked up at Jon, her eyes asking her question.

"I've sewn small blocks of steel into the cloth of the tunic and leggings. It will feel weird at first but you will grow use to it. You are to wear these at all times."

Sophina took off her tunic and replaced it with the weighted one. "What is this for?"

Jon picked up her discarded tunic and hung it on a rack. "It will greatly enhance your speed. Your body will become accustomed to the weight. Once you take it off, you will notice right away how much faster you move."

Sophina never heard of this technique in her life. Still, it made sense. "That's genius!"

Jon bowed his head at the compliment. He waited to speak until Sophina tied the laces on the weighted leggings. "How does it feel?"

Sophina held out her arms. "It feels...heavy, like my armor, but not as constricting. I have plenty of room to breathe."

"Like I said, you will wear these at all times, expect when bathing and sleeping. For today, I will teach you the basic sword techniques."

"Are they like the ones they taught us in the army?" Sophina asked as she stretched out her muscles.

Jon snorted contemptuously. "Those rigid sword forms? No, I will not be teaching you any of those foolish moves. I will teach you adaptability and improvisation. I will teach you the proper stances for balance. I will teach you how to counterattack and strike where there are openings."

"Adaptability and improvisation?" Sophina asked, confused.

Jon nodded. "You must be fluid and ready to adapt to any style or form. I will teach you the weaknesses of every move and how to counter it. This is much more...cerebral than your basic training. Do you understand?"

Sophina thought she did. The way he explained things made sense to her. "I must use my brain as much as my sword."

Jon smiled and Sophina thought it was truest smile she had seen from him yet. "Very good, Sophina. Let's begin."

***

In the end, Raynolt had his way. Or rather Reynar had his way, as much as it angered Raynolt to admit it. The council reluctantly agreed to Raynolt's plan for the war. After the initial shock of the battle to come during the Summer Festival, word would be put out in the city warning the citizens to stay indoors at night. They would even offer gold to anyone who could point the Magi towards a Magi Victus.

Raynolt was pleased to have achieved that much because his own personal task was not fairing well. It had been two weeks since he baited Lenard and Morgana. But despite constant surveillance by Sanje and his men, they had yet to leave the Emporium for the palace. Sanje reported no suspicious activity at the gate of the palace. The only Magi who entered were the councilors for the daily meetings. If Reynar had another method for contacting his spy, Raynolt couldn't figure it out.

"Who's to patrol Beggar's Hell?" Lenard asked, snapping Raynolt from his thoughts.

Raynolt scanned the list on his desk. "Who's more familiar with that area?"

Lenard and Morgana scanned their own lists. They were sitting in front of his desk in his office. The sun had just set, which meant they still had a long night ahead of them. Two more councilors would meet with him every hour, until he talked to all ten councilors.

It grated on Raynolt's nerves because the meetings were redundant; his plans would be solidified with Lenard and Morgana before he had even met with the others. He found it ironic that even though Lenard or Morgana was a spy, he still trusted them with his plans.

He met with the other councilors just to give them the illusion of respect. They were annoyed that he would only meet them two at a time, but he could care less about what they felt about that.

"I think Pernell and Fernon should lead the patrol group there. They have both been outspoken about cleaning up Beggar's Hell, so they are familiar with the area," Morgana offered.

Raynolt nodded his agreement and made a notation on his list. There were still two weeks left until the Summer Festival but Raynolt knew they would be cutting it close with the battle strategy. Try as he might, Raynolt couldn't figure out why Reynar was so insistent on starting the war so soon. Raynolt had planned for at least a year to get ready when he made his play for power.

The clock on his mantle chimed the turn of the hour. Lenard and Morgana shuffled their papers and stood to leave. "Good luck with them tonight," Lenard said, referring to the council. "They were arguing up a storm this morning about your plans to include them in the patrol groups."

"Cowards," Raynolt growled. "They sure have a high opinion of themselves, don't they?"

Lenard didn't smile. "Personally, I don't care much for the idea of going up against the Magi Victus. The Emporium needs leadership; otherwise we are going to have a bunch of idiots leading the council when we die." Even Morgana was nodding at his words.

When did the two of them ever share the same thought? "Everyone fights," Raynolt snapped, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Lenard bowed his head. "As you command, Grand Master." If he was mocking him, he hid it well.

Raynolt waved them away irritably. They opened the door and walked past Safre Howe and Shona Felize, the 2nd and 3rd Tier masters, respectively. Safre and Shona bowed their heads in greeting, but Raynolt paid no attention. His mind was still on Lenard and Morgana, as it had been for over two weeks.

Which one is it? I need to find out before the Summer Festival! Safre and Shona hesitated as they took their seats. Raynolt couldn't see the murderous look in his own eyes.

***

Jon sat by Evelyn's side and listened intently to her heart beat. She gave no sign that she noticed his presence. Ever since she tried to kill him, her mind had locked itself away, leaving her in an unresponsive state. For the last two weeks, Jon visited Evelyn and sat beside her. And everyday for two weeks, he said not a word.

I'm still not ready yet. It had been so long since Jon had known fear that it was almost a new feeling for him. Marcus told him that he knew what needed to be done to bring Evelyn back. And he did know. He just wasn't ready for it yet.

He heard the familiar sign of metal clinking together as Sophina walked into the room. She wore her weighted clothing at all times. He looked up from Evelyn's side and nodded in greeting. Sophina sat on the edge of the bed and looked sadly at Evelyn.

"Still no change?" she asked softly, as though afraid of spooking Evelyn.

Jon shook his head. "Not yet."

Sophina sighed. "It means a lot to me...how you've been coming here everyday to keep her company. Sometimes I suspect that you are a good man."

"Don't tell anybody that," Jon said, smiling. "They will think you're crazy and cut you down where you stand."

"They won't find that an easy proposition," she replied, winking.

Jon had to agree with that. In little more than two weeks, Sophina had improved dramatically. While still very skinny, she had put on weight and muscle. Her cheekbones were still very sharp in her face and her cheeks were still a little sunken, but her ribs no longer showed. She regained the strength in her right arm, which was now thick and lean with muscle.

She had a wiry strength about her now, he had to admit. She might not ever be as robust as she was before her healing, but she was faster than she had ever been. He lamented the fact that he only had one month to train her. He had found some small measure of peace in teaching her. If he had two years, he could make her into a master swordsman.

He sighed and let the thought drift away. Life was never what you wanted it to be. You just had to deal with reality and try to carve out what freedom you could from it. "You ready to begin?" he asked, rising from his chair.

She rose up from the bed and nodded. She was always eager to begin her training. He had to shake his head; her eagerness was infectious. It surprised Jon to learn that he had a passion for teaching.

"Have you trained with Ashford today?" she asked as he led her to the training room.

"We worked before breakfast. He is just as eager as you." Jon shook his head. "And he is just as talented. He's soaking up the spells I am teaching him like a sponge."

"You think I am talented?" Sophina asked, pride ringing in her voice.

Jon looked at her, bemused. "I wouldn't be wasting my time if it was otherwise."

Sophina tried to keep the smile from her face but failed miserably. Jon found that he took just as much pride in her as she did from his training. She was a good student.

They stretched in companionable silence for several minutes in the quiet of the training room as they prepared for the day's training. "Do you really think Evelyn can come back to her senses?" Sophina asked suddenly.

Jon felt his good mood evaporate. "Yes, that's what I hope." Just not yet.

Sophina finished stretching and picked up her practice sword. "Why do you care so much? Is there something special about her?"

Jon slid into his battle stance as he faced Sophina. He leaned on his practice sword as he addressed her. "I don't know, Sophina. I think something might have happened the night Daminus died, but I can't be sure."

Sophina smacked the padded floor several times with her sword as she frowned in thought. She looked up at Jon and asked, "What are soul-mates?"

Jon had no desire to discuss the topic but knew it was a good opportunity to prepare for what was needed to bring Evelyn back. "Soul-mates are hardly understood, Sophina. According to lore, every person has a soul-mate somewhere in the world. But since the world is so vast and life is so short, most people never meet their soul-mate."

"I have a soul-mate?" Sophina asked. She grimaced in disgust. Jon wanted to laugh.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I have lived a long time and never found mine. I like to think we make our own soul-mates."

"I like that better," Sophina said, smiling. He could tell she was thinking of Evelyn.

He would have to set her straight. "But what is known for sure is that when a person meets their soul-mate, they both know it right away. Once their love is consummated, a bond forms between them. This is very old magic; perhaps a remnant of the magic the God used to create the world."

"How do they know right away?"

Jon shrugged. "I think you would have to experience it to understand it. Listen, Sophina...once a person dies, their soul-mate will not long survive them. It is a very dangerous magic. For all the joy it brings, it also comes with unbearable grief. And not just for the soul-mates..."

He shook his head and saw Sophina staring at him sadly. "Sometimes I think you know more than you let on," she said quietly.

Jon laughed to cover the fear that suddenly threatened to overwhelm him. "I've never been in a soul-bond, as I said earlier."

"But you have been involved in some way, haven't you?" Her tone was gentle.

She is sharp. I never considered how double-edged this training could be. I have taught her to read the movements of her opponent. This new perception doesn't just apply to fighting. He would have to be careful in the future with what he taught her.

"Are we going to talk all day or do you want to spar?" He winced as soon as he spoke. He knew it was obvious that he avoided her question.

Mercifully, she didn't press him. Instead, they came together in a clash of wooden swords. Jon led her through the now familiar dance. She had picked up the moves easily, even adding some personal touches of her own. He liked her spirit.

The dance began with a slow over-exaggeration of thrusts and parries. As the dance moved on, they steadily picked up speed until the swords blurred in their hands. After two weeks, the faster moves were coming easier to her. She still made a few mistakes, but she laughed them off and pressed on harder than before.

He looked into her eyes and admired how they gleamed with joy. She belonged to the sword, just as surely as Jon did. The Magi used to ridicule him for risking himself in sword fights during battle. Indeed, he could have flung his magic from the rear, as they did, and kill ten times more men than he did with the sword. But they never understood the honor of standing toe to toe with an enemy, where your skill would reveal the better man.

He smiled as he danced with Sophina. He remembered how he wiped the sneers from their faces when armies began leaving a clear space around him during battle. No one wanted any part of him during the last few years of the war.

He missed the sword. Ever since he picked up his Shadow Dagger, he no longer needed a sword. No, that wasn't quite right. He stopped using a sword when Berrick...

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize he had picked up his pace. Sophina sweated and breathed through her nose as she struggled to keep up. Jon smiled apologetically and slowed his speed.

Sophina broke away from him in disgust. "You're toying with me!" She was red-faced in anger and embarrassment.

"Sorry," Jon replied. "I lost myself in the rhythm of our dance. You are doing great, much better than I expected."

She did not appear mollified. "What's the point? I began to think I am catching up with you and then you speed up so effortlessly!"

Jon laughed. "How I love your spirit! Don't get frustrated, it's barely been two weeks. Your speed has already vastly improved. And don't forget that I have been doing this for...hundreds of years." He hoped she didn't notice his slip. He didn't want her to know he counted his years in millenniums.

She sighed and the tension left her shoulders. "Thank you. You're right...it's just that I know we are running out of time. I want to be at my best."

"You will be, trust me. You're already a match for most of your fellow guards. You could probably stand toe to toe with the King's personal guards."

She blushed at his compliment and toyed with her tunic. He smiled. "Let's take a break and get you some food."

"Already?" she asked incredulously. "I just ate two hours ago!"

"You still haven't fully recovered," he reminded her. "You are burning off most of it in this training. Just be thankful I haven't put you on five rations a day."

"I am hungry," she admitted sheepishly. "The training arouses my hunger."

"Your body knows what it needs now," Jon agreed. They made their way down the hallway toward the living room.

"So do you have a plan yet?" she asked.

Jon slowed down and stopped outside Evelyn's room. He glanced at her door. "Not yet," he admitted. "Before I figure out what our best plan is, I still need to..."

"Need to what?" Sophina asked when it was clear he wouldn't continue.

Jon shook his head. He felt guilt begin to creep up in his mind. He ignored it. "Nothing," he told Sophina, and continued walking down the hallway. He still had time.

***

As silent as the wind, Sanje landed on the rooftop and crouched low. He made his way to the edge of the roof. A shadow, which a moment before had blended perfectly into the night, moved toward him.

"Master Victus," a voice greeted him respectfully.

"How are things, Lauden?"

They both moved to the edge of the roof before Lauden spoke. "Nothing suspicious so far."

Sanje nodded. It had been this way for nearly a month. He fought down his frustration as best as he could. He needed to give his men some time away before the war started. Instead, he had them constantly watching the palace.

The entire palace shone with brightly in the dead of night. Part of the light was simple torches and the other part was mage-light. The combination was really quite beautiful. "It's getting close," Lauden said.

"I know." The Summer Festival was only two days away now. Catching Raynolt's spy was very important to their plans, but so far they've caught nothing. Sanje was beginning to think that there was no spy. He couldn't shake the feeling that Raynolt had invented the whole thing in some plot to double-cross him. The only reason he continued to go along with it was because he thought their history demanded at least an attempt at trust. He wouldn't betray Sanje; not yet, anyways.

Sanje sighed and moved back from the edge. "I will come back to relieve you soon. I need to check on the other positions."

Sanje turned to go when Lauden's hand shot out and caught his arm. "Wait," he hissed under his breath. He nodded toward the palace.

Sanje crept to the edge of the roof to see what he was looking at. They were sitting on a roof facing the east side of the palace wall. Sanje immediately saw what captured Lauden's attention. A cloaked figure was stealthily making their way toward the wall.

Sanje held his breath and felt a flash of hope. This was the most suspicious activity he had seen yet. The cloaked figure stopped by a tree a few feet from the wall. The cloaked figure glanced to either side before reaching out with a gloved hand to rap on the wall.

Sanje's eyes widened in surprise as a section of the wall slide out like a door. Whoever engineered it must have known what they were doing. The crevices of the door blended perfectly with the rest of the wall. A guard holding a torch was standing behind the door. He beckoned the cloaked figure inside.

Sanje started believing in fate that very night. In the dark of night, he was too far away to clearly see the cloaked figure. But the guard stepped forward and brought his torch closer. The light shone upon the cloaked figure as the hood turned left and right to make sure they were alone. And in that instant Sanje saw the features inside the hood very clearly.

"Did you see that?" Lauden asked, astonished.

Sanje cursed under his breath. "Yes I did. I just lost a lot of gold on a bet. I could have sworn it would have been the other one."

Lauden chuckled. "I could have told you to never bet against Vance. That man has freakish luck."

Sanje turned to go. He had to go tell Raynolt that he was sleeping with his enemy.

***

"Here," Jon called, throwing Sophina her old tunic and trousers.

Sophina caught them and looked up at him, confused. "What are these for?"

"Tonight is our last training session. I want you to see the difference the weight has made."

Sophina's smile lit up her face. Jon was glad to see her so happy. He had finally taken her off the extra rations yesterday and she couldn't have been happier about it. She had filled out more over the last couple of weeks. Her bones no longer protruded so visibly from her skin. If she continued his sword training, she would probably never regain her old body weight.

Still, she was looking much better. Her hair had grown out more to frame her face. She kept it dyed black for the disguise but with the weight loss and longer hair, Jon doubted anyone would instantly recognize her.

She changed quickly, no longer bothered about modesty in changing in front of him. She grabbed her practice sword and stood in front of him, smiling from ear to ear. "Let's begin," she said.

Jon chuckled and suddenly darted at her. Her eyes widened momentarily and then narrowed in concentration. He led her quickly through the slow start of their routine. In no time at all, he pushed the speed until their swords clacked together non-stop.