from each of you today, and then we’ll begin our comparisons.”
Philo beamed at the boys’ expressions of dismay. Yes, it’s good to be home.
Theory and Practice
Bayan trailed Calder and the rest of his classmates along a well-used trail that arced across a windswept plateau covered with bent, dead grasses, then through a narrow tunnel. On the far side of the dark passage lay an oval structure reminiscent of a switchball stadium, open to the sky with a tunnel leading through the center of one long side of its thick outer wall.
On the smooth pebbled surface of the arena, the students huddled in their heavy blue winter uniforms, tucking their icy-cold iron manacles under their armpits and blowing frosty breaths, while six beaming individuals stood before them. Bayan looked at the stances and smiles of his new teachers and cringed. They seemed entirely too excited for his taste.
“Welcome to your first class, trainees,” said the curly-headed Tjaard Staasen, stepping forward with an inclusive gesture. “We’ll lead you to a warmer classroom in a few minutes, but there are some things we can show you here in the Wind Arena that we can’t in the form training classroom. Namely, any magic whatsoever.”
Bayan’s eyebrows rose.
“That’s right. As powerful as duelists are, we must maintain a safe environment for training purposes,” added Wekshi, the Wind Instructor. Her short, stiff braids barely moved in the strong breeze. “You’ve all experienced at least one magic mishap, or you would not have come to the attention of the Academy. We don’t want any more of those to happen while you’re still learning to master your magic, and we don’t want these fine old buildings to be damaged either. They’re hundreds of years old and represent a physical connection to our history.”
Takozen, the sleek Flame Instructor with a hooked nose, spoke next. “There are many exceptions to the indoor magic rule, but everywhere that trainees are regularly expected to be is protected, with the exception of the center of your barracks room. As that is where your hotstone is, I assume you will be wise enough not to stand on it and bake your feet while trying a little premature magic.”
After the nervous giggles had faded, Instructor Staasen spoke again. “We’ll begin today with a little explanation of the way in which magical motions differ from the basic defense moves you all learned in school. This will demonstrate clearly why you will spend so many hours of your life perfecting them.”
“Excuse me, Instructor Staasen? I’m just curious whether that’s true.”
Bayan looked back to see the copper-skinned girl who had reminded him of Imee. Her dark gaze was one of mild curiosity with a hint of smugness, and it was aimed not at the Instructor, but at Bayan.
“Whether what is true, Kiwani?” Staasen asked.
“Well, not all of us attended school in Helderaard, Eikenweer, or Gallenglaas. If someone hasn’t had the full experience of learning the Waarden defense moves, won’t this class be a bit above his comprehension?”
“Bayan,” Calder said in a warning tone.
The darkness had swirled all the way up into his head and was pressing at the back of his eyes. He’d balled his fists and taken a step toward Kiwani without realizing it. If she noticed, she showed no sign of concern.
Several other trainees eyed Bayan doubtfully, but Staasen gave Bayan an easy smile. “Bayan, would you care to show the class your defense competency?”
Bayan jerked his head in a nod, eyes still on Kiwani.
“Then, please, choose your tegen and—”
“Her.” Bayan pointed at Kiwani. To his annoyance, she seemed surprised that he’d selected her as his sparring partner. Who does she think she is, that she could accuse me of incompetence, then expect me not to prove myself directly to her?
Bayan strode over to her, crunching across the pebbles of the arena floor. The other trainees backed away from Kiwani, and only
Philo beamed at the boys’ expressions of dismay. Yes, it’s good to be home.
Theory and Practice
Bayan trailed Calder and the rest of his classmates along a well-used trail that arced across a windswept plateau covered with bent, dead grasses, then through a narrow tunnel. On the far side of the dark passage lay an oval structure reminiscent of a switchball stadium, open to the sky with a tunnel leading through the center of one long side of its thick outer wall.
On the smooth pebbled surface of the arena, the students huddled in their heavy blue winter uniforms, tucking their icy-cold iron manacles under their armpits and blowing frosty breaths, while six beaming individuals stood before them. Bayan looked at the stances and smiles of his new teachers and cringed. They seemed entirely too excited for his taste.
“Welcome to your first class, trainees,” said the curly-headed Tjaard Staasen, stepping forward with an inclusive gesture. “We’ll lead you to a warmer classroom in a few minutes, but there are some things we can show you here in the Wind Arena that we can’t in the form training classroom. Namely, any magic whatsoever.”
Bayan’s eyebrows rose.
“That’s right. As powerful as duelists are, we must maintain a safe environment for training purposes,” added Wekshi, the Wind Instructor. Her short, stiff braids barely moved in the strong breeze. “You’ve all experienced at least one magic mishap, or you would not have come to the attention of the Academy. We don’t want any more of those to happen while you’re still learning to master your magic, and we don’t want these fine old buildings to be damaged either. They’re hundreds of years old and represent a physical connection to our history.”
Takozen, the sleek Flame Instructor with a hooked nose, spoke next. “There are many exceptions to the indoor magic rule, but everywhere that trainees are regularly expected to be is protected, with the exception of the center of your barracks room. As that is where your hotstone is, I assume you will be wise enough not to stand on it and bake your feet while trying a little premature magic.”
After the nervous giggles had faded, Instructor Staasen spoke again. “We’ll begin today with a little explanation of the way in which magical motions differ from the basic defense moves you all learned in school. This will demonstrate clearly why you will spend so many hours of your life perfecting them.”
“Excuse me, Instructor Staasen? I’m just curious whether that’s true.”
Bayan looked back to see the copper-skinned girl who had reminded him of Imee. Her dark gaze was one of mild curiosity with a hint of smugness, and it was aimed not at the Instructor, but at Bayan.
“Whether what is true, Kiwani?” Staasen asked.
“Well, not all of us attended school in Helderaard, Eikenweer, or Gallenglaas. If someone hasn’t had the full experience of learning the Waarden defense moves, won’t this class be a bit above his comprehension?”
“Bayan,” Calder said in a warning tone.
The darkness had swirled all the way up into his head and was pressing at the back of his eyes. He’d balled his fists and taken a step toward Kiwani without realizing it. If she noticed, she showed no sign of concern.
Several other trainees eyed Bayan doubtfully, but Staasen gave Bayan an easy smile. “Bayan, would you care to show the class your defense competency?”
Bayan jerked his head in a nod, eyes still on Kiwani.
“Then, please, choose your tegen and—”
“Her.” Bayan pointed at Kiwani. To his annoyance, she seemed surprised that he’d selected her as his sparring partner. Who does she think she is, that she could accuse me of incompetence, then expect me not to prove myself directly to her?
Bayan strode over to her, crunching across the pebbles of the arena floor. The other trainees backed away from Kiwani, and only
Similar Books
