“Again,” he repeats.
I try several more times using various combinations of attacks and evasions, but none get past him. He’s faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. Previously, I’ve always been the nimble one in any fight but here is someone who is both stronger and more agile. Each of my attempts ends in the forest king pinning me and forcing me back away from the swords.
“Again,” I’m really starting to get tired of him saying that. As sweat beads my forehead and I struggle for breath, Orrian looks down on me as fresh as if we are yet to begin.
I stumble forward, it’s not difficult to pretend like I’m on my last legs. I collide with his midriff, Randall’s shoes scrabble to gain friction as I try and force Orrian backwards. The young king easily holds me at bay, taking a step forward against me before deciding to throw me to one side. My momentum carries me forwards and the second I hit the ground I’m lunging with my arm outstretched. Orrian lands on my back as my stomach slides across the grass. I’ve done it, I may not have the sword in my grip, but my fingertip brushes its hilt.
“Better,” Orrian admits as he helps me to my feet. A solitary pair of hands clap to one side.
Randall is standing at the edge of the clearing, he’s barefoot and his leg is still covered in paste. He continues for a moment longer before limping over to a thick tree where he leans and watches.
Now that I’ve managed to touch the blade by myself, Orrian spends the remainder of the morning teaching me how to fight with only my bare knuckles. He shows me wear to hit and how to immobilise an opponent. Most people will be slower than me but stronger, he says, and so I need to use their weight and momentum against them.
“I’ll show you, charge me,” he instructs. I resign myself to the fact that what happens next is surely going to hurt.
I do as he asks, rushing him from the other side of the green. As I come within arm’s reach, he grabs the collar of my undershirt with his left hand and turns into me as he crosses his arms so that the other hooks under my armpit. I’m still moving forwards as he thrusts his hips backwards and pulls down on my arm. I am helpless as I go flying over his shoulder and land flat on my back at his feet, my arm still in his grip. From here he could snap it, or kill me if he had a blade, I am completely at his mercy.
We continue working on this move for the next hour. The first few attempts leaving me complaining that I’m not strong enough to lift him however.
“It’s not about how strong you are, it’s about their weight and momentum. Throw your hips backwards more sharply,” Orrian instructs.
After another couple of tries, he finally leaves the ground. A couple more and he’s going over my shoulder. A satisfied smile plays across his lips as I release his arm for the last time and he comes to his feet.
I am sweating profusely now in the midday heat, even Orrian has a few droplets clinging to his brow.
“From now on we train every morning and evening until the attack,” says Orrian, my participation is clearly not optional. “You did alright, we come back here at sunset.”
I watch as the king leaves our training ground and heads back towards Tarrin. I approach Randall who still lounges against his tree.
“You’re starting to look good,” he says as I near.
“I had my arse handed to me,” I laugh, wincing as my bruised ribs flare. “Do you need a hand?”
Randall waves my help away and so I leisurely walk by his side as he limps back towards the village.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I blurt out. “How can I be this Akanian that Orrian and everyone else expects me to be?”
For a worrying second, Randall remains silent. He’s maybe the only person I can talk to about all this. Orrian won’t even hear my concerns and I’m forbidden from confiding with any of the tribespeople. My only other option would be Robyn but if there’s anyone who I don’t mind thinking that I’m some destined hero, it’s her.
“Let them have their myths and legends. Once all of this is over, you can sit out the fight,” says Randall.
“But that’s the problem! I’m the one who’s supposed to end the fight! They all think that I’m the one who can beat the colony once and for all!” I say. I don’t care how I sound, I need to get this off my chest.
“If we win, no one’s going to care how much you did or didn’t contribute. And if we lose...well, no one’s going to care either,” Randall says.
I try to take some comfort in his words. He’s right that once we’re in the heat of the battle everyone will be far too concerned with themselves to spectate my struggles. He makes a good point, but there’s one thing that I still haven’t told Randall.
“What if I’m not even capable of fighting anymore?” I ask nervously. We have reached the edge of the forest, but I hold my father’s friend back, I need to have this conversation.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
Together we revisit the battle of the beach, this time I don’t leave out anything. I tell him of all the people I killed or cut down, and then I struggle not to choke up as I reveal that one particular body.
