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Most of the time, Killen pulled away with a smile.
‘This is getting personal,’ Sana’a quipped once.
It was.
In and out of the íkhara, she was haunting him.
In waking life, just as much as she was in his visions.
He was torn.
He wanted to believe she was true to her word, that she meant him no harm.
Yet his hawkstone warned him.
It replayed his recurring nightmare of the maiden. With her elaborate flag-tipped krest and three flank plumes, smoky and iridescent like her SHärd blades, aiming straight at his heart.
Was Sana’a the girl starring in his night walking? Or was she his deepest yearning?
Over the following week, time blurred as they trained at a blistering, relentless pace.
Days were spent honing Killen’s skills. Evenings were immured in recovery, showers, more mouth-watering meals from Killen’s Kitchen, as his companions now all called it.
Nightfall was dedicated to a heavy, dreamless sleep. That only the thoroughly worn out and sated could enjoy.
Kaxim and Kione split their time between the kíota and the army kambí, providing moral support to the worn-out Král-In-Waiting and watching over Katáne, even as the enemy advanced.
Sana’a’s entire focus was on unlocking Killen’s true potential beyond his hawkstone capabilities.
She took time working through each manoeuvre.
Showing Killen how to straighten his shoulders, hold his sternum and move his feet.
She corrected his mistakes and rewarded the signs of progress with encouragement.
She demonstrated how to employ hooking attacks against his opponents mid-flight, which could disembowel even the most ominous warrior in battle.
‘Classically, the shotel was employed to hook the opponent by reaching around a shield or any other defensive implement or weapon,’ Sana’a called out.
Killen paused mid-jab. ‘Why learn the shotel if I’m to use the sab?r koya most times?’
‘Because the utmost sab?r koya is flexible, limber, and malleable, Katánians use their koya as arrows and stiff daggers. The Shotelai use their pliable, sinuous weapons, which can slash, pull, and disembowel because of their curved shape. They’re used to snag and rip warriors off their course. If you can learn to do the same, to curve your koya as we do, you’ll be at a level beyond your fellow Katánian warriors.’
Killen nodded, his eyes narrowing. ‘Which is my driving desire.’
The íkhara became a sacred space where the rhythmic clashing of blades filled the air, creating a holy symphony of sound.
However, Sana’a and Kultur clashed on how to instruct Killen.
Each had their unique approach to teaching.
Kultur, with his reliance on precise íkan energy, and Sana’a, with her practical and rule-breaking techniques.
‘None of us are superior to the other,’ Sana’a spoke up one morning after a reaming from Kultur. We both aim to prepare Killen for whatever he may face with a blade or koya.’
The older man groaned with derision. ‘You fokkin,’ wench! He needs to focus on harnessing the power of nature, using the surrounding íkan. He must tap into his inner strength and channel it through his sword. Your ideas are too wild, too uncontrolled.’
‘Kultur, with all due respect,’ Killen rasped, stepping forward, fury on his face, ‘you can’t speak to my kísímí any way you want to. If you have a problem with her, take it up with me. That’s your last and final warning.’
