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Book: Drenai Series 05 - Waylander II: In the Realm of the Wolf by David Gemmell
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Authors: David Gemmell
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as you are told.'
'You whoreson!' she stormed. 'Touch me again and I'll kill you!'
He laughed and shook his head. 'Not yet. But do as I tell you - and maybe you'll have the skill to do just that. Now move to the first piece of wood.'
Still seething she walked to the first chunk, his voice following her. 'Run to the second and stoop down, touching the wood with your right hand. Turn instantly and run back to the first, touching it with your left hand. Am I going too fast for you?'
Miriel bit back an angry retort and started to run. But she covered the distance in only a few steps and had to chop her stride. Feeling both ungainly and uncomfortable she ducked down, slapped her fingers against the wood then turned and ran back. 'I think you have the idea,' he said. 'Now do it twenty times. And a little faster.'
For three hours he ordered her through a series of gruelling exercises, running, jumping, sword-work, endless repetition of thrusts and cuts. Not once did she complain, but nor did she speak to him. Grimly she pushed herself through all of his exercises until he called a break at midday. Tired now, Miriel strode back to the cabin, her limbs trembling. She was used to running, inured tcMhe pain of oxygen-starved calves and burning lungs. In truth she even enjoyed the sensations, the sense of freedom, of speed, of power. But the weariness and aches she felt now were all in unaccustomed places. Her hips and waist felt bruised and tender, her arms leaden, her back aching.
To Miriel strength was everything, and her faith in her own skills had been strong. Now Angel had undermined her confidence, first with the consummate ease of his victory in the forest, and now with the punishing routines that exposed her every weakness. She had been awake when Waylander made his offer to the former gladiator, and had heard his response. Miriel believed she knew what Angel was trying to do, force her to refuse his training, humiliate her into quitting. Then he would claim his fortune from her father. And, because Dakeyras was a man of pride and honour, he would pay the ten thousand.
You will not find it easy, Angel, she promised. No, you will have to work for your money, you ugly whoreson!
*
Angel was well satisfied with the day's training. Miriel had performed above his expectations, fuelled no doubt by anger at the slap. But Angel cared nothing for the motivation. It was enough that the girl had proved to be a fighter. At least he would have something to work with. Given the time, of course.
Waylander had left just after dawn. 'I will be back in four days. Perhaps five. Make good use of the time.'
'You can trust me,' Angel told him.
Waylander smiled thinly. Try to stop her attacking anyone else. She should be safe then. The Guild has a rule about innocent victims.'
Morak follows no rules, thought Angel, but he said nothing as the tall warrior loped away towards the north.
An hour before dusk Angel called a halt to the work, but was surprised when Miriel announced she was going for a short run. Was it bravado, he wondered? 'Carry a sword,' he told her.
'I have my knives,' she answered.
'That's not what I meant. I want you to carry a sword. To hold it in your hand.'
'I need this run to loosen my muscles, stretch them out. The sword will hamper me.'
'I know. Do it anyway.'
She accepted without further argument. Angel returned to the cabin and pulled off his boots. He too was tired, but would be damned before letting the girl know. Two years out of the arena had seen his stamina drain away. He poured himself a drink of water and slumped down in front of the dead fire.
Given a month, possibly two, he could make something of the girl. Increase her speed, lower her reaction time. The side sprints would help with balance, and the work to build her arms and shoulders add power to her lunges and cuts. But the real problem lay within her heart. When
'You whoreson!' she stormed. 'Touch me again and I'll kill you!'
He laughed and shook his head. 'Not yet. But do as I tell you - and maybe you'll have the skill to do just that. Now move to the first piece of wood.'
Still seething she walked to the first chunk, his voice following her. 'Run to the second and stoop down, touching the wood with your right hand. Turn instantly and run back to the first, touching it with your left hand. Am I going too fast for you?'
Miriel bit back an angry retort and started to run. But she covered the distance in only a few steps and had to chop her stride. Feeling both ungainly and uncomfortable she ducked down, slapped her fingers against the wood then turned and ran back. 'I think you have the idea,' he said. 'Now do it twenty times. And a little faster.'
For three hours he ordered her through a series of gruelling exercises, running, jumping, sword-work, endless repetition of thrusts and cuts. Not once did she complain, but nor did she speak to him. Grimly she pushed herself through all of his exercises until he called a break at midday. Tired now, Miriel strode back to the cabin, her limbs trembling. She was used to running, inured tcMhe pain of oxygen-starved calves and burning lungs. In truth she even enjoyed the sensations, the sense of freedom, of speed, of power. But the weariness and aches she felt now were all in unaccustomed places. Her hips and waist felt bruised and tender, her arms leaden, her back aching.
To Miriel strength was everything, and her faith in her own skills had been strong. Now Angel had undermined her confidence, first with the consummate ease of his victory in the forest, and now with the punishing routines that exposed her every weakness. She had been awake when Waylander made his offer to the former gladiator, and had heard his response. Miriel believed she knew what Angel was trying to do, force her to refuse his training, humiliate her into quitting. Then he would claim his fortune from her father. And, because Dakeyras was a man of pride and honour, he would pay the ten thousand.
You will not find it easy, Angel, she promised. No, you will have to work for your money, you ugly whoreson!
*
Angel was well satisfied with the day's training. Miriel had performed above his expectations, fuelled no doubt by anger at the slap. But Angel cared nothing for the motivation. It was enough that the girl had proved to be a fighter. At least he would have something to work with. Given the time, of course.
Waylander had left just after dawn. 'I will be back in four days. Perhaps five. Make good use of the time.'
'You can trust me,' Angel told him.
Waylander smiled thinly. Try to stop her attacking anyone else. She should be safe then. The Guild has a rule about innocent victims.'
Morak follows no rules, thought Angel, but he said nothing as the tall warrior loped away towards the north.
An hour before dusk Angel called a halt to the work, but was surprised when Miriel announced she was going for a short run. Was it bravado, he wondered? 'Carry a sword,' he told her.
'I have my knives,' she answered.
'That's not what I meant. I want you to carry a sword. To hold it in your hand.'
'I need this run to loosen my muscles, stretch them out. The sword will hamper me.'
'I know. Do it anyway.'
She accepted without further argument. Angel returned to the cabin and pulled off his boots. He too was tired, but would be damned before letting the girl know. Two years out of the arena had seen his stamina drain away. He poured himself a drink of water and slumped down in front of the dead fire.
Given a month, possibly two, he could make something of the girl. Increase her speed, lower her reaction time. The side sprints would help with balance, and the work to build her arms and shoulders add power to her lunges and cuts. But the real problem lay within her heart. When
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