Battle Road (Wrath of Origin Two Book 2) by A.D. Summer

Author:A.D. Summer [Summer, A.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

7

Empty

They trained. It was incredible how intricate the art of swordplay was. It was nothing like the rigid lessons that her blade instructor had preached to them in class—the emotionless step-by-step instructions that lacked any passion or insight. This, on the other hand, was different.

It was a dangerous ballet, a lethal dance between partners, where Sibylla could sway with her opponent’s moves, recognize their intentions, and react accordingly. It was incredible.

But as exciting as all of this was, the day’s training from earlier had already taken its toll and Sibylla began to feel as though she was about to fall apart. Her joints were weak, and she had to lean over at the waist just to keep from falling over.

“What are you doing?” Atra asked.

“Catching my breath.”

“No,” he said. “There’s no time for rest.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.” She threw her shoulders back and took a deep breath. “Let’s call it a night, dude. I’m spent.”

“But we are not done yet.”

“I am.”

“Fine,” he said. “You want to stop? Hit me.”

Sibylla stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“You heard me. Hit me, and you can leave.”

Sibylla turned to the eagles watching them from the sides of the dome, finding them just as puzzled as she was. They exchanged confused glances and waited silently for Sibylla’s answer.

“Don’t look at them,” Atra chided. Sibylla looked back at him. “They cannot help you. No one can. Only yourself. Now hit me.”

Startled, Sibylla idled in hesitation. “But you’re … unarmed.”

“Your compassion will not be something your enemy shares. You must remove this sense of mercy and do what needs to be done. Now hit me! Now!”

Reluctantly, Sibylla fell into her stance, trembling as her muscles fought to steady beneath her. Blinking, she peered through the haze of exhaustion clouding her sight and took a deep breath. If this was what he wanted, then so be it. With all her strength, she leaped out and swung at his hand.

Atra was quick. He backed away and avoided her strike completely. “What was that?” he asked, disgusted.

“You told me to hit you,” Sibylla said. “So I tried to hit you.”

“Don’t try,” he commanded. “Do!”

Sibylla swung at him again, trying for his shoulder, but he quickly spun to the side, slipping in behind her and kicking her in the butt. She stumbled forward and tripped over her feet, falling to the ground, where she remained motionless, stuck under the weight of her own exhaustion.

“You sleep better than you fight,” Atra remarked. He nudged her body with the tip of his boot.

The gesture was insulting, and she forced herself up, suddenly fueled by anger. If this was how he was going to play it, so be it.

“Okay,” Sibylla said, her fingers tightening around the handle of her blade. “You want me to hit you? How ‘bout this?” She leaped out at him and thrust her blade into his chest. But he simply rolled into the attack, spinning around and elbowing her in the back.

She fell forward with a searing pain, and she dropped to her knees, bracing herself against the floor with her hands.

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