“Now Henry, today's lesson concerns the use of your own body's blood to fuel your magic.” Byford stood in the center of the practice room, dressed in his fencing whites. His black sword hung from his waist, but he held a wooden practice sword in his right hand, gesturing with it occasionally for emphasis. “I have noticed that you have been biting your tongue to trigger your magic. This kind of blood-letting behaviour is common among the blood witches in stories, and for the untrained witches out in the world it is often the only way they can use their powers. It is unnecessary however, and dangerous.”

With a flourish, Byford switches his practice sword to his left hand and draws his real sword with his right. The blade, which Henry had only caught a glimpse of in the orphanage, is made of a black material that shimmers like polished hematite. It lacked any signs of wear, or even tooling marks. “We are called blood witches. All of our magic centres around the blood, either ours or that of others. Our magic does not require the shedding of blood, however. Your body is full of blood already, and while it is easier to use blood that you can touch and taste, you can learn to tap into the reservoir within your body directly.”

His left hand whipped out and he lunged, the blunt point of the training sword stopping just short of Henry' throat. Henry held his ground, though a cold sweat broke out across his face and back. “Blood-letting is dangerous because it makes you slow to react, and because those trained to hunt us look for these bloodletting behaviours. It is also something that can be used to hobble you, if you become too dependent.” Byford straightened, sheathing his sword and unbuckling his sword belt. He wrapped the belt around the scabbard and lay it by the door, then looked at Henry and smiled humourlessly. “Tonight we are going to break you of that habit. You will learn to use magic without preparation.”

In a heartbeat, Byford was suddenly in Henry’s personal space. Henry backpedaled, and his back slammed into the polished wall of the studio. As he rebounded, cold sweat stuck his shirt to his back. Byford leaned over him, and then brandished a black metal needle. Without hesitation, he jabbed the needle into Henry' arm.

Byford spoke then, and his voice took on a strange, sonorous quality. “Your jaw becomes slack, losing strength. You are able to speak, but only barely.”

Henry felt whatever the older witch was doing to him taking hold. His tongue was like a leather strap, his jaw muscles weakened. He struggled just to keep his mouth closed; to stop himself from drooling. Despite the needle embedded in his arm, his limbs and core still felt strong. Byford dropped easily into a low guard, and so Henry did the same, warily sidestepping to put some distance between himself and his master.

Byford advanced slowly, stalking Henry around the room. “Relax your body, Henry. Feel your heart beating in your chest, your blood singing in your veins. Reach for it: listen to it until you can feel it in your temples, in your throat, in your fingers.”

Henry tried to do as he was told, he sank his awareness into his own body, splitting his focus, trying to keep an eye on his Master at the same time. It wasn't as hard as he feared; he could already hear his blood thundering in his ears after all.

“Spread your awareness. Will the blood to the surface, opening all of the tiny vessels under your skin. Feel the heat spreading across your arms and face.”

Henry felt himself flush, his face growing hot.

Byford nodded. “Good, good. You're getting there.”

Without warning, Henry' head snapped forward, pain blooming across the back of his skull and his vision erupting with a riot of stars. Someone just hit him from behind. His entire body went instantly cold, blood under his skin now fueling his magic as he responded instinctively by throwing himself into a backwards stomp kick. His heel impacted with devastating force, driving the new attacker’s leg out from under them. Henry heard a crash as the attacker’s body hit the wooden floor. Henry' head pounded and his vision was a swimming mess, but his blood-focus deepened, sharpening his other senses. He could hear Byford scuttle backward, trying to get out of reach, and Henry used his back foot as a springboard, leaping forward and lashing out in a vicious combination of sword strikes. He hit nothing but air. On the last cut, Byford ducked easily under Henry' guard, planting his shoulder in the boy's chest and throwing him through the air.

Henry' moment of weightlessness was cut off when he struck one of the beams near the ceiling, forcing the air out of his lungs and deflecting him down to the ground.

“Very good. Few students get this part of the training on their first try. Please stand whenever you are ready.”

Henry lay still for a moment, trying to force his lungs to work again and cursing himself for being so easily defeated. On his first ragged breath, he struggled to his feet, and glanced back to see Charnock sitting with his back against the wall, massaging his injured leg. He grinned, and nodded a greeting.

Byford slapped his practice sword into the palm of his left hand. “Congratulations, you have used magic without first drawing blood. However, if you have to focus so completely as you just did, you will still be useless in an ambush. That, and a blush like that will give you away against a trained opponent. You must learn to summon your power at a moment's notice.”

Henry turned to face his master, and he could hear Charnock standing up behind him. “How?” He tried hard to form the words, but they came out slurred.

“Practice. Until I say otherwise, you will only use magic while we are attacking you. As soon as we withdraw you will stop. If you need food or drink, raise your hand and we will break.”

Henry tried to ask how long for, but he tripped over his numb tongue, the words coming out as a garbled mess. Byford answered with a wicked grin. “As long as it takes, lad.”

Hours passed. Henry stopped to eat and drink, but as soon as he was done, they started afresh. Byford and Charnock started by circling Henry, waiting until he became complacent, and let his guard down. The two men then attacked in bursts, sometimes one, sometimes the other, sometimes both at once. Henry became increasingly battered and weary.

Over the hours of practice he managed to draw on his power a little faster than before. Charnock seemed happy with his progress, and even Byford spared one of his rare smiles.

At the end of the session, Henry sat on a chair and tried to get his breath back while his masters whispered to each other on the other side of the room. He waited on the chair for Byford to pass him on the way out.

“Master… Where’s Francis?” Henry asked.

“You keep asking me that,”

Henry nodded.

“And I keep not answering.”

Henry nodded.

“And I won’t answer you this time, either.”

Henry’s head dropped, and he stared hard at his feet.

“But know that my avoidance hides nothing sinister. It’s simply that, despite how much you have learned, there is much more about this world that you don’t know. And much of that context would be required for you to really understand my answer. As it is, my answer to your question would, at best, only prompt more questions, the answering of which would take much more time than either of us have. But I’m being honest when I tell you that to the best of my knowledge he’s safe, and healthy, and I promise that I’ll explain it more fully when the time is right.”

Henry nodded, pressing his lips together. He’s too tired to argue any more.