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The rain was bitingly frigid the next morning.

Winter still held its grip over the valley in the early hours of the day, barely above freezing with a steady, drenching drizzle.

It was the coldest weather to endure, more brutal than any dry winter cold snap, the kind that soaked you to your bones and left the chill lingering for hours after you had dried and warmed yourself.

I trudged through the rain toward the large Ironguard Hall, a building El had pointed out yesterday that I found easily enough today.

Byrgir and Crow were already in the sparring ring outside when I arrived, stretching and jumping to warm up.

They both wore leather armor. Crow’s was a deep black with feather filigree etched along the hems, two swooping ravens facing each other over the chest piece.

It was flexible and trim. Byrgir wore the familiar set I had seen before, a mix of woven leather and hardened leather plates, sculpted steel plating across the chest, and studded leather plates for greaves and shoulder pauldrons.

Both the leather and steel were etched with incredibly intricate knotwork depicting serpents, bears, and wolves, all open-mouthed and vicious.

“Morning, Little Lamb.” Byrgir jogged to the side of the ring, his boots squelching in the mud.

“Morning,” I answered groggily. “How are you so chipper?”

“Not the first time Crow and I have been in the ring early after a big night, oh no. We’ve trained hungover more than I’d like to admit.”

“And more than I’d like to ever experience again,” Crow mumbled behind him.

I stepped into the ring and joined them in their warmup, following their lead as we hopped, squatted, and kicked.

When we were all breathing heavily, Byrgir grabbed a set of thick sparing pads from a rack near the ring and a set of padded fingerless gloves that laced up the wrists. He tossed me the gloves.

“Make sure they’re nice and tight over the wrists.”

I slipped my wet hands into them and laced them up, then approached Byrgir as he held up the two pads.

“Just like before, follow my lead. I’ll drop them low to my thigh for leg kicks, or turn to the side like this for body kicks,” Byrgir instructed, and we began.

We moved through several rounds until I was sweating, even in the cold rain.

“You remember we talked about the size of your opponent and their reach?” Byrgir asked.

“You said I will almost always be outmatched in both. And probably strength too.”

“Exactly. Unless you’re fighting another woman, which will happen. But if you’re in a battle, or just in a bad situation, odds are good you’ll be fighting some big ol’ dumb brute like me. So I want to show you a few moves you can use to get inside the guard of a larger opponent.”

Byrgir showed me two moves to reach past the strike of an opponent and land a hit, then a defensive move to dip, step, and spin out of arm’s reach.

We drilled the same combination, then another similar, and then worked on stringing them together.

Soon I was hot beneath my sweater, and a break in the cold rain was a welcome reprieve.

I took my rest beside the ring, watching Byrgir and Crow spar.

Byrgir was deceptively quick for his size, graceful and intentional in his movements.

I had seen him fight before, knew how devastating his well-timed blows were, the power he could put behind them when he chose to.

But Crow was faster, more dexterous still.

Predicting his movements was impossible––even though they were sparring at a fraction of their actual fighting pace––yet Byrgir seemed capable of it.

Crow’s strikes were precise and intentional, often choosing places that would end the fight with one hit had he been wielding a dagger.

“Don’t let them see you staring. It’ll go straight to their heads.”

I turned to see El tightening leather bracers over her forearms.

“You look awfully fresh after all those beers last night,” I said.

“Lots of water, and the blessing of a fae complexion.” She put a hand under her chin to display her face and smiled sweetly.

“Lovely,” I mumbled, “and completely unfair.”

“Ah, come now, your fae-touched blood must help a bit, you don’t seem too bad,” she said.

“Better than I expected, worse than I’d like to be,” I said. I turned back to the men sparring in the ring. Their wet hair clung to their foreheads and rain dripped down their faces. The ground beneath them had turned to mud, but they moved with a confident grace.

“If you want to go back to bed, I’ll tell the boys to fuck off for you,” El offered.

“If you’re all here, I’m here,” I said, stifling a yawn. “I have to learn somehow. I am looking forward to another bath in that tub after this though.”

“Speaking of learning, I was hoping you and I could run through a different style of fighting today. Hand to hand combat is important, it’ll get you through a tight spot. But Sourcery… Sourcery will win you a battle. Eilith was teaching you, yes?”

“Yes, but I’ve never tried to use it as a weapon. More just manipulations of natural forces. Moving water, starting fires, summoning plant growth. Things like that.”

“Excellent,” El said. “You’ll catch on quick then. Come on.”

She led me to the opposite end of the ring, where a set of straw and burlap dummies were staked into the ground with a tall wooden wall behind them, separating the training rings from the Ironguard Hall behind.

She stopped about fifteen paces back from the dummies and blew into her cupped hands to warm her fingers.

“Do you know how to summon water? Make it rain or snow, for instance?”

I nodded. “One of the first things I learned.”

“Good. This will feel similar, but the intention behind it is different. Your intention, your will, as you know, is vital in Sourcery. The idea is to condense that power, sharpen it, and throw it.”

She drew back a hand and flicked it forward with a snap of her wrist. Shards of ice the size of short-swords answered at her fingertips, flying into a training dummy and exploding in a deadly array of cold shrapnel.

“The explosion at the end is a bonus. I’ll teach you how after you’ve mastered the ice daggers,” she said with a satisfied smile.

She showed me the motion, the nearly imperceptible touching and separating of two fingertips she had done as she flung the ice from her hand, and spoke aloud the incantation in ancient Senuan she had not voiced.

El explained, “One of the hardest things to master in a fight is drawing in sufficient power, and doing it quickly enough to land an effective shot. Unless you’re standing well back from an advancing army, you won’t have time to build on an incantation.

You have to grab the power you need quickly, and expel it with precision just as fast.

“Give it a go, and don’t worry too much about speed this time. Just get the shape of the projectiles right, and enough power behind them to make them fly.”

I raised my hand to shoulder height, as she had done, mirrored her somatic actions, and whispered the incantation.

The power responded instantly, rushing into me from every direction.

It hit me like a herd of horses, knocking me off balance.

I flung my hand forward, barely managing to aim as I stumbled.

My only thought was to discharge it as quickly as I could without hurting myself or anyone else.

Projectiles of ice the length of Byrgir’s claymore and several times as thick went far wide of the dummy, exploding in a shattering cacophony. Some of them embedded themselves into the wooden wall behind the dummy with heavy thuds.

Silence followed. I felt everyone’s eyes on me at once, and I turned to look at El. She stared back, mouth agape.

“Well. Looks like control will be your biggest challenge. Not speed. And certainly not power.” She chuckled.

“What the fuck was that?” Crow called from behind us.

I kept my head low, eyes down. A hot flush was seeping across my cheeks and I wanted to hide it.

“If you’re going to insult our guest, at least make it clever, Crow,” El snapped back with a smoldering glare.

“Careful, El! She’s going to be stronger than you in no time!” Byrgir joked as they approached and leaned casually on the sparring ring rail.

El grabbed my shoulders and squared me to the target again, my back to the men. “Ignore them. They have no idea how hard it is to handle power like this. The best they can throw is air puffs to tickle each other’s dicks.”

I huffed a laugh and stood straighter.

“You talking shit about us now?” Crow called.

“Go back to your slap and tickles, idiots!” El chirped before turning to me, speaking softly so they wouldn’t hear.

“Shake it off. Chin up, shoulders relaxed. And pull them back more. That’s better.

Chest high, like you mean it. Now, deep breath, and take aim before you even call the power.

You know how hard it’s going to hit, but you can handle it.

Don’t let it scare you. But don’t hang onto it any tighter than you have to, either.

Let it flow. Release it when it feels right. ”

I took a deep, steadying breath and exhaled through my mouth.

I braced my feet a little wider, raised a hand, and repeated the incantation.

The power answered in an instant, slamming into me with the force of a crashing waterfall.

It was so much more intense here than I had felt before, so much quicker, larger, stronger.

The energy hummed through my veins, danced along my muscles, rattled in my head.

I let it go, aiming for the same dummy again. Heavy ice shards with sharp, deadly points tore through the dummy with a disturbing brutality, shredding the burlap in an explosion of straw. Stillness fell over the training yard again. No word from the audience behind me.

“Gods above, there it is! You’ll be a master of this in no time. Let’s try flame next,” El bubbled, flitting back to my side to instruct me.