He ignored the proffered hand and hauled himself upright, ignoring the pain with a set jaw. “I’m all right,” he said gruffly.
“You’ve got to work harder, Myren!” Travis insisted. Jonah watched silently on the sidelines, arms folded.
“I’m trying,” Lucas growled. But no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t fast enough, and Travis hit him again and again. His stance and form were perfect, he had studied them while watching the other soldiers, but it was all worthless; he couldn’t react quickly and block incoming shots. He couldn’t think fast enough when he saw an opening. He knew what he should do, but it all came too slowly. He moved sluggishly, fouling up the footwork, ashamed of how incredibly unathletic he was. All his work with Sorokin, working out at the garrison in Port Sarim, was useless if it did*’t make him a better fighter.
He thought back to the battle on the beach, his first real battl,e trying to picture how it had been, how he’d fought and stayed alive. The adrenaline had heightened his senses, made him think faster, made him anticipate what his opponent would do. Why couldn’t he do that now? He tried to pretend it was life or death, that Travis’ sword wasn’t made of wood, and it helped some, creating a sense of urgency. He only hit Travis twice in the entire session, however. When he was finally too tired to lift his sword, and barely could block a single blow, Travis said, “Enough.”
Lucas staggered toward the water trough and splashed cool drops over his aching body. Travis stood beside him, doing the same. When they had both drank and washed, Travis put a hand on his shoulder. “Good work today.”
“Did*’t feel like it,” Lucas sighed.
“Well, you’re not very good,” he replied bluntly. “But you never had any training. We’ll whip you into shape. Be back here in two hours. Boss wants to do hand-to-hand training after this.”
Lucas nodded, and wandered toward the lower decks, where he clambered into his hammock and promptly fell asleep.
06-Jan-2011 05:56:11