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The other Chosen’s eyes widened as they clustered around her scars. Verve let them ogle for a few seconds before pulling her jacket back on.
She nodded to Usko. “Come on, kid. Show me what you’ve got.”
* * *
Verve squinted in the full sun that washed over the sandy sparring grounds, tucked behind the Temple. While stone wall surrounded Atal’s Temple in the heart of Freehold, only a small wooden fence marked the sparring ground’s borders. This allowed the denizens of Freehold to watch the Chosen train and, as Danya had often said, “bear witness to their own salvation.” Today, only a few teenagers leaned on the railing, absorbed in the action. When they spotted Verve, they jerked upright and leaned over the fence, their faces eager.
“I wish they couldn’t see us,” Livia murmured as the four Chosen made their way to an empty spot.
Verve replied without thinking. “Serla Danya wants the people of Freehold to know how hard we work to keep them safe.”
“I know,” Livia said. “But I still don’t like strangers watching me. Last week, I fell and some of them laughed.”
“Everyone falls sometimes,” Verve replied. “What matters is how often you get up. Besides,” she lowered her voice, “most of the townies don’t know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end. Don’t concern yourself with what they think. Just do the best you can.”
Livia beamed at her, and something twinged in Verve’s heart at the eagerness clear upon the child’s face.
Verve nodded a greeting to a few of the other Chosen and their trainers, who all waved or bowed to her in return. Of the Chosen, none were older than Verve, which she tried not to think about too hard. Most of the trainers were older mercenaries whom Danya had hired to instruct Atal’s Chosen on the most effective mage-fighting techniques.
But no amount of training guaranteed a long life.
“No mage-targets brought out today?” Verve asked Usko as they made their way to an empty patch of ground. A few more townies had gathered, some pointing to Verve, who did her best to ignore them all.
Usko’s brows knitted. “There was one in the holding cells, but he didn’t survive the last training session.”
“You’re too good,” Brak said, grinning at Usko, who shrugged, but hid his own smile.
“When it comes to killing mages, ‘good’ isn’t enough,” Verve replied. “You must be perfect. They have magic; we only have blades.”
“Hematite blades,” Livia said.
Verve snorted. “Hematite blades mean little when a mage can shoot fireballs at your head from a hundred paces off.”
“That’s what the crossbow’s for,” Brak chimed in. “Right?”
“Among other things.” Verve glanced at Usko. “Did you bring practice blades?”
He scoffed and withdrew both of his hematite daggers. “I’m not a kid anymore, Verve.”
“Oh, my mistake.” She chuckled and withdrew her daggers as well. The younger Chosen scuttled off to the sidelines, and Verve and Usko faced one another.
Usko was at that age where he was at least six inches taller every time Verve saw him. Now they stood almost eye to eye, and she realized that despite his round, youthful face, he had the bearing of a grown man. But he was still a child in many ways, and when he lunged at Verve with all of his considerable strength, she sidestepped him as easily as wind through prairie grass.
He grunted and turned to face her, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Verve grinned. “Try again. But this time, mean it.”
Another lunge, which Verve avoided again, except this time she whirled around to kick his legs out from under him, sending him down to the sand with a huff. Verve stood over the boy, her dagger at his neck. “Stop messing around,” she said, “and show me what you can do.”
Usko bared his teeth and leaped to his feet, and drove against Verve with rapid, wild swings. His strength should not have surprised her, and for a few seconds Verve actually had to work to regain the upper hand. Sweat beaded at her brow and slicked her hands beneath her gloves, while the watching townsfolk hollered. But the other Chosen either ignored the spar while they continued their own training, or watched silently. Danya would be most unhappy if she heard them cheering.
Usko’s strikes came faster, harder, and Verve found herself dodging more blows than she offered. But not all battles needed to be won with brute force. He was stronger, yes, but he was also still just a lad. She switched tactics, leaning into the fluid dance of avoiding getting hit while also making him work harder, faster, to even get close enough to strike her. Usko’s cheeks reddened and his breath came shorter with his efforts, until at last his frustration made him sloppy. Verve parried a blow and shoved him off-balance, and he fell to the sandy ground once more. When he looked up, he met Verve’s eyes over the dagger’s point now over his throat.
“Fine,” he huffed. “You win.”
Beyond them, the Freehold townsfolk cheered. The rest of the watching Chosen, except Brak and Livia, went back to their training.
Verve flipped her dagger around before tucking it back in its sheath, then offered Usko her hand. He grunted she pulled him to his feet, and when Verve clapped his back, puffs of sand flew into the air.
“You did good,” she said. “Try not to want to win so badly.”
