The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,39
the stick being a favorite.
He spun the silabat in his hand, admiring its balance and weight. Whoever carved this one knew what they were doing, and in the skilled hands of a fighter like Anhuset, it was lethal. “I can manage,” he said.
No doubt the waster she held was nearly as deadly as her real sword, lacking only the edge and point to equal them. She grasped the practice sword with the typical Kai hold—partially open palm with the thumb pressed against the grip on one side, the middle and forefinger held straight on the other side. He thought it odd the first time he'd seen it, a method unique to the Kai to accommodate their claws. “I always wondered why the Kai held a sword in such a seemingly unwieldy way until I tried the grip myself.”
The waster, a graceful wooden copy of her steel blade, cleaved the air as she practiced a short slash. “And what did you discover?”
“A strengthened forearm and improved point control. I never questioned the Kai's ability to handle a blade. I've seen firsthand how your folk fight. I just thought the grip strange.”
Anhuset raised the weapon to give him a better view of her hold on the grip. “You've a good eye. That's exactly how it works.” She tapped the silabat he held. “As you're open to trying the grip on your own, I'm willing to hone your skill at it should you wish.” This time she lightly tapped his knuckles. “Not that you'll need it since you've no claws of your own.”
“A shortcoming, I'm sure.” He couldn't help but tease her.
“Your words, margrave. Not mine.” She adopted a shallow crouch, and motioned for him to do the same, waster held in a casual way that Serovek knew better than to underestimate. “I thought you said sparring instead of chatting.”
He struck with the silabat, a move she easily countered. “So I did,” he said and launched another attack. Soon they were battling up and down the stable's dimly lit center aisle, their audience a half dozen horses watching from their stalls while others dozed, undisturbed by the mock fighting.
They had fought together in true battle against Brishen's kidnappers and torturers. Serovek had witnessed her prowess in a fight, though he'd never battled her himself. Sparring her forced him to use every skill he possessed just to stay on his feet and not have her bash him in the head with her waster. She was ungodly fast, and he was reminded of how Brishen moved in a similar fashion, with a darting speed that tricked the unknowing into believing the quick were not the strong. The Kai were both, blessed with thick bones and naturally muscular physiques. Long-limbed Anhuset possessed the reach to successfully lay a bruise or two on him, every strike hard enough to send a spike of pain through his body.
He gave as good as he got, unconcerned that she might not withstand his most aggressive attacks or break through his staunchest defenses. She was more than up to the task, only snarling under her breath and baring those intimidating teeth when he managed to wallop her with the silabat.
Outside, winter still gripped the land, coating the grass with frost. Inside the stable it was warm and sweat dripped from Serovek's hairline into his eyes. Anhuset's gray skin glistened in the dull lamplight, a lavender blush riding along her cheekbones from the heat of the building and their own exertions.
Their sparring came to an abrupt end when Anhuset maneuvered close to the stall housing Serovek's horse. Ears laid back and nostrils pinched, Magas stretched his neck over the stall door and bit the Kai woman on the shoulder.
“Gods damn it!” Yellow eyes wide, Anhuset pivoted, ready to strike this newest attacker with her waster. She lowered her sword arm and glared at the stallion before turning the baleful expression on Serovek. “Did you put him up to that?”
Both man and horse snorted at the same time.
“Magas and I are close, and I'm good with horses, but not that good. He's probably annoyed that we're keeping him awake.” Serovek leaned the silabat against one of the stalls before approaching. “Let me see the damage.”
She exhaled an indignant breath but turned to present her back. “We should have listed a rule or two before we started. No biting.” Before Serovek could respond, she dropped the waster and pulled her shirt over her head, baring her torso to his gaze.