A Betrayal of Faith ✔

TWENTY-EIGHT: Practice Makes Perfect

Nerin was terrible at fighting. He was skinny, unfit, and didn't know how to hold himself properly, but Rina could at least admit that he was putting in more than enough effort. Teaching him was difficult, but it was also helping her practice her skills. Her father had always said that one of the best ways to learn was to teach.

The fact that Nerin wanted to learn shocked her. He was only a kid. She and her brother may have gotten training, but it was a tradition in Ziya for the royal family to at least try out to be a Warrior. Brenmar was nothing like that, if what she had read and experienced was anything to go by. And yet, Nerin wanted to learn, because he didn't want to be useless.

He wasn't useless in the slightest. In fact, without him, she would never have made it out of Ishmar, never would have known was the mural at the Sanctum said. Without him, they wouldn't know where to go or what to do now that Isiah had the stone. But she hadn't told him that, all she had told him was that she would teach him.

For the last few days, whenever they stopped to eat or sleep, Rina would grab a thin fallen branch and order Nerin to do the same. There was no way they could practice with a real sword yet, especially seeing as they only had the one. If they ever got the chance to buy or find another, she would take it. The sword she held was still too heavy for her, but she was slowly getting used to its weight.

He stood in front of her, his stance a little off and pointed his makeshift sword in her direction. "Your legs are too far apart again," she said and prodded them with her stick. "One good hit and you'll be knocked over."

The setting sun behind him made it difficult to see him clearly, but even so, his mistakes were obvious. He grumbled and shuffled in the snow. "Better?" he asked, a tired look on his face. She nodded. All he wanted was to get to the actual sword fighting, but there were basics he had to master first if he wanted to be any good.

Isiah sat against the thick trunk of a tree off to the side, staring down at a pile of sticks in front of him. He'd been doing it since they stopped for the night and she still had no idea what he was doing. She'd asked once, but he hadn't given her an answer, so she thought it best to leave him alone. He hadn't been doing well since the Sanctum.

It made sense. They'd all seen things that would haunt them, except Isiah had been the one to do it. Nerin's idea that he was the Beast that was Promised seemed silly to her. It was a myth from the followers of the Old Gods, an outdated religion that was slowly dying. Her Gods had been accepted as the truth centuries ago. They had no saviour. The people had to save themselves.

As she taught Nerin how to hold his sword as if it were an extension of his body, thoughts ran rampant through her mind. She could exactly ignore the proof in front of her, but believing in the Beast felt like betraying her Gods. It felt like telling the world that the beings she had believed in since birth were wrong and that something ancient and complicated was correct. Everything about it felt wrong.

And then there was the war. Her mind was a mess thinking about it, but try as she might, she couldn't push it away. It was definite. Harudan was prepared for it and if he'd told the people, it meant her father had responded, hadn't it? Any chance at peace was long gone. Not even her friendship with Prince Nerin could fix things. He was but a child, nowhere near influential enough to stop an entire war.

She sighed and closed her eyes for a second. She was meant to be teaching the Prince how to fight, not get caught up in her angry thoughts. Fighting had always been something to take her mind off of her life, but now that she had actually used the skills, all it did was remind her of it.

"Remember," she said to Nerin. "The Warriors of Ziya fight like they are dancing. Every movement is fluid, it flows into the next. The sword is an extension of your arm. It is a part of you when you fight."