Sarah's Story Chapter 006 - Spar

Two and a half years later

Sarah sat on the hard packed dirt, blindfolded, extending her senses outward. She could feel the firmness of the soil beneath her, and the sun’s warmth on her skin from above, behind her, and slightly to the right. She breathed steadily and quietly, the better to hear everything going on.

The wind rustling through the trees at the edge of the field.

The very faint sounds of the village down the road.

Birdsong from above – at least three different birds.

She tried to keep her mind clear and alert for any new sounds, any new sensation, any information about her surroundings, but it was hard.

Tomorrow was class choosing day.

Finally, after fifteen years, she would be an adult.

Finally, after two and a half years of training, she could take the next step to finding her brother.

She had asked everyone in the village at some point about class choosing, and they had all scoffed at her when she told them she was going to hold off on her second class if she couldn’t choose something good. Not in a mean way, but they chuckled and told her it wouldn’t happen, she’d definitely choose a second class right away.

The only one who took her seriously, other than her parents, was the village smith. The look on his face had been indescribable when she had told him her plan. No scoffing, him. After a moment of silence, he merely said he would pray for her and turned back to his work.

He still felt guilty, after all these years. Sarah didn’t blame him at all, he hadn’t known, but…

In any case, Sarah felt as prepared as she could be for choosing her classes.

The faintest scraping of earth reached her ears, from the front, about ten yards.

Immediately she rolled backwards into a reverse somersault, kicking her legs up and pushing off with her hands in a handspring to take to her feet. She heard the thud of of a clod of earth strike where she had been sitting, quickly followed by other clods of earth hissing through the air where she had rolled and around herself. Her toes reached the ground first and with a twist she was falling to the side, avoiding more clods. Another twist and a flick of her wrist and the stick she had picked up mid-handspring was whizzing directly towards the assailant, her ears not missing the sound of his feet scraping the earth.

There was a smacking sound as the stick was knocked out of the air and Sarah couldn’t hold back a grin spreading across her face.

She transitioned from a fall to a tumble to a roll to another jump, this time flinging a handful of sand from her pocket in the direction of the assailant as she abruptly changed direction, narrowly dodging a stick whizzing through the air where her shoulder had been moments before.

Sarah’s focus intensified even further.

Two minutes of intense jumping and tumbling and throwing later, Sarah felt the stick in her hand hit flesh, probably the upper arm judging by the sound, the feedback of the strike, and how high above the ground she had landed the strike.

“Stop!” her mother shouted, the grin on her face audible to Sarah’s ears.

Sarah was grinning too, although she was panting for breath as she stood straight and removed her blindfold.

Although she kept the stick in her hand.

Sarah’s good mood plummeted immediately when she saw her mother, still grinning, but with her right arm bound firmly to her side with a length of rope. Sarah whirled on her father (rubbing his left arm where he had been hit).

“Dad!”

He shook his head ruefully. “Your mother insisted.”

Sarah grew anxious as she stared at the rope. Her mother approached with lithe steps, perfectly balanced even with one arm bound, and her father stepped back to referee the next match.

Kindly, he waited a moment for Sarah to catch her breath, and Sarah’s mind raced wordlessly, imagining the opening moves of the coming brawl and she steeled her nerves and-

“The winner is the first to touch the back of the others’ head. Begin!”

Her mother leapt forward with incredible speed, clearly not holding back at all. Her left arm was outstretched, hand grasping for Sarah’s face…

But Sarah had been leaping backward the instant her father signaled the start of the match. Unfortunately, due to how the human body is arranged, lunges forward give more distance than jumping back, but Sarah’s goal was more time to think than trying to outpace her mother.

Seeing the direct lunge forward, the instant Sarah’s feet touched the ground again, she sprang forward and to the left, to the side of her mother’s bound arm. It was the obvious move, and her mother responded with a tumble into a somersault into a one-handed handspring, flinging a stick from the ground at Sarah’s head. Sarah dodged the stick but was struck in the gut with a clod of dirt her mother had, somehow, managed to kick up as she landed and darted in to close the distance again.

The next minute dragged on for an eternity in Sarah’s perception as it was all she could do to dodge her mother’s sticks and clods of dirt and outstretched hand, trying to keep her distance and find an opening, when suddenly-

The rope binding Helen’s arm came loose.

Both her arms were now free.

Sarah barely managed to process this fact and start feeling aggrieved when the rope wiggled out, as though it had a mind of its own, and managed get tangled around her ankles just as she was pivoting to dodge backwards. She lost her balance and started to fall, gravity accelerating her slowly, too slowly…

And there was her mother, holding her up like a dance partner, her hand cradling the back of Sarah’s head.

“Stop!” her father called.

Sarah, still off balance, turned her gaze to her father and pouted.

Helen stood her back up with a soft smile and Sarah kicked the rope away from her feet.

“Dad! That was totally unfair to give Mom a rope! Come on!”

Sarah had known from the start she stood no chance. The first time, when her mother had sparred with her with both arms tied up, she had thought maybe she had a chance. And her mother had mercilessly taken her apart with just her legs. The second time, months later, her mother had toyed with her for several minutes before untying the rope and toying with her for another few minutes before finally ending the match.

Not that Sarah had ever actually won a match against her mother, but the rope always made the spar more annoying. Her mother would always smirk and tell her to train harder.

Not this time.

“Sarah,” her mother said solemnly. Sarah whirled around to take in her mother’s serious expression. “Any time you fight someone, you should always assume they will have a secret weapon or trump card or hidden ability. With classes and skills, it’s nearly guaranteed, and the variety is endless, and it won’t be obvious like a sword worn on the hip or a length of rope being flaunted. That is why you need to always end fights as quickly as possible, before they even start if you can. You can’t let whoever you’re fighting have the chance to use their secret weapon, ever.”

Stephen stepped forward, and for several minutes gave his feedback on their brawl. Other than some technical pointers about her footwork and rolls, the main point was that Sarah should have aimed for the fast victory.

“Your mother was down an arm and the goal was to touch the back of her head; if you had lunged forward to her right, you might have been able to get a tap in if you went all offense and forgot about defending. In a normal brawl or spar, you’d have to worry about your partner accidentally landing a crippling or lethal blow on you, but your mother’s too good for that, and you could have taken advantage of that to seize victory.”

Sarah pouted, thinking of her jump backwards. “So from the very start I messed up?”

Her mother shook her head. “No dear, from the moment you saw the rope you grew nervous and stopped thinking about winning. You were thinking about not losing, and that’s not the same thing as winning. You can’t let yourself get psyched out when someone flaunts their skill or weapon or whatever, no matter how strong it is. If you really think you can’t win, no matter what, then you need to commit to running away.”

Sarah stood silently for a minute, processing the feedback, internalizing it and thinking about the spar as the sun sank towards the horizon.

“Sarah.” Helen said softly.

Sarah looked up.

“Repeat your oath.”

Her daughter looked her straight in the eye and said, “I swear I will choose Brawler for my first class, and I swear not to choose my second class before consulting with you after choosing Brawler.”

Silently, in her heart, she continued. And I swear I’m going to find my brother and bring him home.

Helen nodded. “Good.”

That night at dinner they avoided the obvious topic of discussion and instead reminisced about James. About how he was awful in the field but never slacked off; about how he was surprisingly handy in the kitchen; about his favorite places to play in the village; and finally, about how he had met the enchanter at the Lord’s manor. Sarah had never heard that story before.

Her hands clenched into fists under the table as her father continued, talking about how the Baron had confirmed with the King himself that James was no longer in the Kingdom, and that there apparently was a kidnapping ring in the neighboring kingdom.

Sarah put her emotions in a chokehold and squeezed them down mercilessly.

She reminded herself that by this time tomorrow, she’d have her classes and be ready to go find James.

That night, she readied herself for bed and her mother brought a chair into her room, as previously agreed. Her mother would stand a vigil as Sarah slept, to ensure she kept her oath.

Sarah knew how much it meant to her mother. She wouldn’t dream of violating her oath. For over two years her almost every thought and action had been towards the goal of finding her brother.

She lay down to sleep and her mother sat in the chair, watching silently. Sarah’s last waking thought was to marvel at how silent her mother could be when she really put her mind to it…

She woke as the first rays of dawn crossed the sky, almost imperceptibly brightening the room. She opened her eyes and immediately met her mother’s gaze, staring down at her.

Class System unlocked. 0/2 Classes chosen. Please select a Class.

Exactly as expected. Helen’s face tightened and Sarah nodded solemnly and closed her eyes again.

Beginning Class Selection