Chapter Seven: Dunes and Duels

With each ocean-spanning step she took, the alabaster figure assured those below that they deserved their fate, their actions had brought them to this precipice in time. Her face was carved into a mask of mirth, and joy filled her song.

Early morning did little to assuage the sweltering heat of the desert, the bead of sweat that was slowly trailing down the back of Briddy’s neck was quickly joined by a few more as she hastened across the campus. A small cluster of people stood in the distance, milling about in a mixture of green and grey and white, all dressed in clothes suited for rigorous activity. Praying that she wasn’t running too late, Bridget tugged on the hair of her horse’s tail, tightening the hold of the cord she had tied it with on her way out of the dorms.

Somehow, she had managed to sleep through her peers rising and going about their morning preparations, only waking when a dish had broken on the floor in the common area. In a panic, she had thrown clothes on and dashed out the door, forsaking breakfast as she wrestled with her mane and hustled to meet up with her classmates for Weapon Proficiency class.

By the time she got to the group, they were already beginning to wind their way towards the edge of the white walkway that encircled the border of the campus, following some unseen director at the front of the group. Glancing around, Briddy swallowed her disappointment when she didn’t spot Gail’s lithe form and grimaced when she spotted the glint of Niles’ spectacles. It was going to be a long class, it seemed.

With the dull orange of the dunes rising around her, Briddy spotted a wooden sign, an arrow burnt into the wood along with a large ‘E’ beside it. It seemed to be leading them off campus, into the desert following a shifting footpath between mounds of sand. Sliding as she climbed up a small incline, she saw an unnatural valley carved into the sand, a large circle more than a hundred paces across that the surrounding dunes seemed to border in protective precision.

The boundaries of the circle were sharp, too clean to be natural, and the floor of the circle seemed to be of packed dirt, not sand or silt. Standing in the middle was an older man with long brown hair tied back in a low horse's tail down his neck. Stubble darkened his face as much as the bags under his eyes, and one hand clutched at his head as the group of students came to a halt before him.

Grimacing, he reached down to his belt and withdrew a small bottle, sipping at its contents without acknowledging the class. Amber liquid sloshed as he drank an agonizingly slow mouthful, eyes shut tight while swishing the liquid around in his mouth.

Briddy looked around at her classmates, the darting glances of her peers as they shifted and shuffled offering no answer to their teacher’s odd behavior. Niles was first to voice his impatience, his nasal voice drifting across the clearing. “Sir? We’re all-”

“No words.”

“But sir-”

“No words. Just go. Tailmeak.” The shadowed man stuffed the now empty container into his belt, waving a hand to where a path was now snaking its way up onto the dunes, marking a dark brown trail for them to follow.

“We can just leave?” Bridget asked, tilting her head.

“Laps. Four.”

“But sir,” Niles cut back in “Shouldn’t you at least take role first?”

“I’ll take role of what’s left of you after. Six laps.” Pulling out another bottle, the teacher began chugging its contents before stopping suddenly, looking after the group who was still staring at him.

“Sculptor’s hand, get on with it. Or do you want more laps?”

That was enough to get them moving, a couple of students taking off in a dead sprint while the majority began to slowly shift into a jog. Briddy joined them, setting a gentle pace that did little to stop the sweat gathering at the back of her neck from dripping down. The trail curved sharply upwards, carrying them in a track that looped around the arena, following the hills and swells of the dunes.

Although the path had hardened the ground underfoot, it was narrow, and the way it was laid made the footing treacherous, and Briddy found herself having to focus on her footing to avoid sliding into the sand. One lap around the elevated track and the desert was already taking its toll, red faces and gasping breath adorned even the students who would’ve been described as fit by even the most critical eyes.

Her lungs burning, Bridget gritted her teeth as the pack began their second lap, all of the students still present, though looking worse for the wear. A distance that might’ve normally been no more than a pittance seemed a marathon of miles, their bodies weakened under a punishing sun that burned the strength from their bones.

By the fourth round, she could taste copper in her mouth, each inhale bringing pain and too little air. The herd had begun to thin, drooping forms falling to the side to catch their breath and attempt to cool their bodies, mostly clad in green and grey. This wasn’t a choice for Briddy, she reminded herself that she could not afford failure as she longingly looked to where her classmates lay on the sand.

Even with the thin fabric of her top, sweat quickly slicked her back, sticking the silk of her uniform to her skin, seeming to slow her movements and trap the heat inside despite its breathable nature. Looking at those still standing as they stumbled down the dunes on their final lap, most of them wore the white of heirs, though a fair number of the general course still held numbers.

“Still here? That’s more than I expected.” Looking marginally less wilted, the stubbled professor took stock of his gasping class. “Are we ready to start?”

No one was able to respond at first, though a Briddy looked up from where she was doubled over to give a quick nod.

“Good enough.” Pulling out a grubby piece of paper from his pocket, the man squinted at what was scrawled on it. “I am Instructor Cassia, I’ll be teaching and testing your weapon proficiency this year.” He held the note closer to his face, eyes narrowed almost shut. “How is anyone supposed to read this?” After rotating the paper a few times, he began to read out a list of names, barely pausing to give their owners time to respond.

By the time he got to “Varin, Tabitha”, Cassia’s eyes narrowed once more, looking at the next name on the list.

“Here,” Briddy said after he didn’t call her.

“It would seem so.”

She could feel more than one set of eyes on her, the flush that was already in her cheeks from exertion igniting even further. “I’m not like my siblings, though,” Bridget felt compelled to add.

Looking up from his list, the teacher gave her a searching, albeit brief, glance before returning to his role call.

“That remains to be seen, Miss Vasily. Urten, Argus?”

A small boy with large ears raised his hand, and the instructor continued with the list. Feeling brave enough to glance around, Briddy caught Niles looking at her, a callous look floating in his watery eyes before he turned back towards the front of the group.

“Well then. Those of you that did not complete the laps, head over the dune to your right and retrieve the training gear, I want it all carried over here quickly. Do I make myself clear?”

With a groan, a portion of the group rose and began dragging themselves the way he had pointed.

“Those of you still here, start stretching and pair up, I want some light sparring to see where you’re at. There are no grades tied to this, but don’t let me see you slacking.”

Grabbing her arm and stretching it across her chest, Briddy began to examine her peers, who had already begun to split off in sets of twos. Turning to the nearest person, she cocked her head in an invitation, motioning towards an empty chunk of arena with her hand. The student she was looking at, a short girl with fluffy, bobbed hair took a step backward, raising her hands in a placating matter.

“I don’t mean any offense but…”

Briddy looked at her, a small knot forming in her stomach.

“I just don’t want to fight Titanium Kerr’s kid. I’m not the best at weapons.”

“I don’t think it’s about-”

The girl was already backing away, turning on her heel and looping her arm through one of the nearest students who lacked a partner.

Growing to a large chunk of dread, the knot in Bridget’s stomach twisted as her eyes landed on the next person nearby. Dropping his eyes to the ground, the large-eared lad from earlier shuffled away, squeaking something about “scary-eyed women.”

Her situation didn’t improve as the final dregs of the partnerless became apparent, murmurs and hushed voices spreading the soft hiss of rumor wherever her back was turned.

“I heard Kerr sparred a teacher his first year and won.”

“Didn’t Adelaide break someone’s arm in a spar?”

“No, it was their leg, my cousin told me-”

None of those that remained would make eye contact with her, grabbing each other and hustling away, leaving Briddy to stand alone beside the beleaguered instructor.

“Well, there are worse things than sparring with a professional” She reminded herself, taking a step towards Instructor Cassia, who looked at her with a creased brow.

“What are you doing Vasily? Go with your partner and get on with it already.”

Partner? Briddy looked to the side, confused, when someone loudly cleared their throat behind her, drawing out each sound unnecessarily long. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and finding the strength within her to turn around. There was only one person in the class that she knew for certain who felt that they were the best, and who held the self-assurance to stick around and pair up with her.

Sure enough, as she opened her eyes and moved to look behind her, Niles was standing there, a self-satisfied smirk filling his round face.

“It’s not polite to ignore people.” He informed her, pivoting on his heel and leading the way to the edge of the packed dirt. Rubbing her forehead, Briddy followed, keeping a healthy distance between them as they reached the edge. Looking anywhere but at Niles's smug face, she glanced towards the boundary where dirt turned into sand and noticed an odd occurrence where they met.

Shifting in a small cloud that barely hovered half an inch above the ground, the particles of sand that had happened to slide towards the classroom floor gathered in a long, undulating cluster that seemed to be pushing against an invisible wall. Briddy crouched down and watched as the small cloud curled back from the unseen barrier, depositing the sand in a small pile away from the edge of the packed dirt.

“Have you never seen a Ward work before?” Niles’s shadow fell across her.

“Of course I have, but they’re usually used to keep people, or monstrosities out, not sand.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice, the entire campus is filthy with them. How do you think they keep the desert off the greenery? It’s basic logic. I bet the arena has other wards too, to keep magic and relics out. Did you even know that there are quarantine wards over all the buildings? That way if there’s a fire or a sandstorm, they can keep us safe.”

Bridget clamped her mouth shut, nodding and raising her eyebrows as Niles lectured her about the different kinds of protection the school had in place. It was a relief when Instructor Cassia gave a long, sharp whistle, silencing the different conversations and bringing the attention back to him.

“If you’re all done warming up, come grab a couple of training weapons and have at it.” He kicked a pair of large, heavy wooden trunks that now lay at his feet, no doubt put there by the nearby students laid out on the ground. “I’ll be watching, so no trying to murder each other. Draw a circle in the dirt, ten paces across, and get your opponent out of it.”

Grateful for the end of Niles’ monologue, Briddy made her way over with the rest of the students, looking at the pile of wood that lay within the trunks. Flexible, thin beams had been strapped into facsimiles of different weapons, from a simple, arm-length sword to the curved half-moon shape of an axe. Under several weapons, Bridget could make out the large head of the mace that her sister favored, but she picked up one of the wooden swords, figuring that she might as well train with the weapon that Vex took for her father.

Feeling the weight of the wood in her hand, Briddy took a few swipes at the air as she made her way back to where she and Niles had earlier stood, lazily cutting with a limp wrist. The grip at the bottom was wrapped in a sort of rubbery, dark fabric that clung to her palm, though the smell coming off of it indicated a long heritage of sweat and use.

When she reached the edge, Bridget put the rounded tip of her sword into the ground, putting her weight onto the hilt to help it dig in before dragging it in a slow, circular fashion.

“You need to bring it wider, otherwise you’re going to make an oval, not a circle.” Niles had rejoined her, leaning against a length of wood taller than himself.

“Thanks,” Briddy said through gritted teeth.

“And if it’s going to be ten paces, you’ll have to cut pretty close to the edge. You should have started farther over.”

Ducking her head in what could’ve been a nod, Bridget continued her work, the climbing sun beating down as Niles continued to critique her work, not lifting a finger to help. When she had finished, he hopped over the line with a sniff, taking the staff of wood and spinning it in his hands.

Taking a moment to wipe away the sweat that had gathered on her brow, Bridget walked around and stood at the opposite end, swinging her stick-sword a few more times, this time with meaning to her strokes. Around them, other battles had already begun to commence, the smacks and thwacks of wood meeting wood cracking across the arena, intermixed with cries of shock and pain and Instructor Cassia’s various admonishments.

Turning her attention back to Niles, Briddy saw that he was still spinning the staff in a lazy figure eight, passing the weapon behind his back and under his arm, and then tossing it up in the air to catch it in one hand. Sweeping the wooden tip downward, he grasped it with both fists, pointing the end towards her with clear intention.

Taking a deep breath, Bridget shuffled her feet wider, barely getting the chance to bring her sword up before he lunged, sending the tip darting towards her face. No sooner had she taken a step back, raising the wood to block his shot, than he quickly pulled back and thrust it forward again, this time aiming lower, towards her stomach. She was able to adjust, tilting the sword down so that it smacked against the wood with a loud clack, but her parry was barely able to meet his attack in time.

They continued in this pattern for a while, his quick strikes trying to drive her back towards the edge she had carved into the ground, but Bridget kept her footwork light, turning to the side and circling even when she was forced to retreat. After a short while, Niles changed his assault, swift jabs now having longer thrusts intermixed, sweeping at her arms and feet to bring her blade out of the way.

The weariness baked into her by the heat and previous exertion made Briddy feel like she was moving through molasses, her reactions slower than she knew they could be, and making mistakes that cost her as Niles’s staff smacked her hard on the ankle bone. Cursing under her breath, she tried to dodge to the side but was met with a downward swing that was aimed at her ducked head. With no way to go but forward, she rolled in a somersault through his feet, coming up on the other side of her opponent.

By the time she had straightened, he had already turned to meet her, aiming his weapon toward her exposed back. Briddy brought her sword up once again, the loud crack of wood meeting wood sending shivers of weakness down her arms, which faltered enough to allow Niles to smack her soundly on the shoulder. Skipping back as far as she could go, Bridget took stock of her opponent, who was now spinning his weapon once again, clearly showing off.

“From how everyone was talking, I expected more of a challenge!” He called.

Briddy didn’t reply, keeping her eyes on him as they circled each other. He was good, she could admit that much. Good didn’t mean unbeatable though, and her father’s words floated to the surface of her mind.

“Any idiot can train to be proficient with a weapon. A fighter survives by how they choose to use it. If you can’t overwhelm them, outsmart them, if you can’t outsmart them, hope you can outrun them.”

She took a breath. Running wasn’t an option here, and he clearly possessed the means to overwhelm her, leaving few alternatives. Steeling herself and keeping an eye on the circle’s border, she continued their dance of thrusts and blocks, looking closely at Niles as he attacked. A particularly violent swing glanced off her midsection as she twisted out of the way, and a triumphant look exploded across Nile’s face.

He began rotating his weapon once more, the wood whistling through the air as he spun it so quickly that the edges seemed to blur together. Grabbing her side with one hand, Briddy watched him, the pieces slowly sliding into place. The way he kept twirling his spear, doing all of these unnecessary flourishes, there was nothing serious about his manner. In his eyes, she could already see victory, smug assurance twitching the corner of his mouth. She had seen something similar in Adelaide before, that confidence that the fight was already won while their opponent still stood.

Well he wasn’t Adelaide, and neither was she, but at that moment, Bridget knew that what she needed wasn’t more strength to beat him back, but belief. He already thought that he had won, saw her as a cornered beast, the glare of his ego blinding him into security. She remembered what that felt like, seeing an opening in her father’s guard only to end up lying face down in the mud while Kerr lectured her.

“The first rule of any fight is to know when you’re outmatched, and the second is to know how to turn the tide in your favor. You wouldn’t beat a sack of straw charging in like that.”

She could still feel the sting from the flat of Vex’s blade against her calves. This would be a tricky ploy, she would need to time things just right and give nothing away. Niles jabbed back into her, and she brought the wood of the sword up to block it, letting him knock the weapon further aside than she might’ve normally. On his next thrust, she stumbled backward, getting close to the line in the dirt and letting a small cry of panic escape her lips.

Sliding her eyes over, Briddy saw his smirk grow, and with a twisting flourish, he began a series of thrusts towards her legs. She needed his weapon to go higher, so she blocked his shot, purposely leaving her torso exposed as she swung the full length of her sword down. With a victorious cry floating from his lips, Niles plunged his spear at her shoulder, and Briddy closed her trap around him.

His weight was behind that attack, meaning that she had to let it glance off her, but she snapped her arm up, trapping the shaft in the crook of her arm. As he tried to yank it out, she took her training sword and slid it perpendicular under his weapon, holding it fast and yanking back hard. Niles stumbled towards her, tripping over his legs, and she brought a foot up, putting it squarely in the middle of his chest and kicking him away.

Scrabbling at the dirt, Niles lost his balance and landed squarely on his rear while Briddy twisted away, freeing the shaft of his weapon from his grip and throwing it as far as she could outside the circle. It skidded to a stop over eight paces away, and she swung her sword down, pointing the rounded tip at his throat.

“Go get it.” Bridget tilted her head towards the edge of the dirt circle.

He glared at her, pushing his glasses back into place and saying nothing. How had those stayed on the entire time? Briddy shook the question out of her head and refocused.

“Or you can forfeit. Either way, you lose.” She jabbed the wooden end of her weapon lightly into his chest for effect.

“You didn’t win.” He scowled as he swatted at the sword she held to his collarbone.

“Excuse me?”

“The assignment was to knock your opponent out of the circle.”

“He said ‘get your opponent out of the circle’.”

A belligerent look hardening his dark tan face, Niles looked up at her. “I’m still in it, aren’t I?”

Befuddled, Briddy tilted her head, keeping the point of her sword directed at him. Eyes glancing over to where the staff he had chosen lay, she looked back at him. “Do you want me to smack you until you leave?” She wiggled the sword at him.

Huffing, Niles looked away, not responding to the question. With a sigh of exasperation, Briddy pushed the hair back from her forehead, glancing around at the other pairs, who were in various stages of wrapping up. The small-eared boy from earlier was seated atop his opponent’s chest, their arm knocked out of bounds, several sets of smacks and cracks were still flying, but they were undercut by a sudden cry of pain.

“Ow, Tuck! Why?” Clutching a hand to her head, the fluffy-haired girl that had shrunk away from Briddy earlier stumbled out of her dueling ring, a lump quickly rising on her forehead. Her opponent, a lanky boy with long, sandy hair darted after her, kneeling beside where she was crouched on the ground. He held a hand to the girl's head, murmuring something as he passed over her injury, and by the time his hand had completed its motion, the swelling was gone.

Briddy felt the slightest shift at the end of her sword and snapped her attention back to Niles, who had begun to raise a hand to grab it. Swiftly cracking him against the knuckles, she gestured once more with her chin towards his discarded weapon.

“You make your mind up yet?”

“Clearly, this was just your Legend at work. It must be nice to have generational magic twisting fate for your story.”

“I’m sorry?” Bridget could hear the ice in her voice.

“I mean it’s not really fair when you think about it. Your father had a famous fight, your sister became infamous, all in their first weapons class, so of course, you would pull something absurd as well.”

She squinted at him as he sneered at her. Absurd? “There’s absolutely no way to know that. Maybe you’re just not as good as you thought. It happens.”

“Easy for you to say when you cheated your way into this position.” He raised his voice, glancing around at their nearby classmates.

“How is it cheating? You got cocky, and I took advantage of it.”

“You just can’t handle that you would’ve lost.”

“You-” Bridget could feel her volume growing as well, but she was cut off by another voice.

“That’s enough.” Instructor Cassia made his way over, eyes idly sliding over their current positions. “Class is over, and I suggest the two of you find somewhere else to argue, preferably out of earshot.”

“But I would’ve won sir, you don’t understand.” Niles' voice slid up in a whine.

Briddy could barely contain her disgust, tossing her training sword onto the ground and pivoting away. This wasn’t even for a grade, and yet Niles was still fighting just for the name of victory.

“Sir, I don’t care. Mark him as winning. Thank you for the lesson.” Turning on her heel, Bridget marched away, fed up and ready to be on to the next class.