Page 36 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

As if he can hear my thoughts racing in my mind, he laughs darkly and says, “Are you thinking about running? You should. I might just like it.”

Locane’s words resolidify my fire and my blood sings. I grip the staff tight before yelling, “Well, I wouldn’t want to purposely show you a good time, Locane!”

Taking a deep breath, I slide the lock free and throw open the door. He is standing right at the entrance of the door with a twisted, disturbing smile across his handsome face.

“Who says I won’t enjoy your fight even more?”

I lunge for him.

Locane jumps, but I expect it, and I keep rushing towards the yard knowing he won’t go back into the house. My assumption is correct, and he reappears in a copse of trees just off the path leading to the porch.

Smiling, I remember how sickly Locane appeared this morning, telling me he’s still drained from the long jump pulling me last night. He won’t be able to pull that trick many more times. He smiles right back at me as he reaches behind a tree and pulls out a sheath housing a sword. Locane removes the weapon with a hiss carrying on the wind. He twirls it in his hand slowly, barelystepping forward, making his intention clear that he wants me to acquaint myself with this new weapon before we fight.

I loosen a maniacal laugh. Concentrating on my staff in my hands, I take a moment to really let it become an extension of myself. As I do, muscle memory kicks in, and my confidence in my skill boosts significantly. I stand straight and toss it between my hands a few times and then twirl it in lightning quick movements.

Spinning it behind my back, I then shift it from my left hand to my right before doing a graceful, handless cartwheel. I land silently on my feet, bent slightly at the waist with my staff held at a balanced angle at my back, an arm outstretched. I raise my fingers slowly before snarling and motioning them forward in a come-hither movement, taunting him.

Locane comes for me quickly, striking down as I lift my staff—hands wide on each end—and block his blow easily. It's then that I notice that he is holding nothing more than a basic, blunt edged, training sword.

This is what he had planned all along.

I have to speak to him about his methods of getting what he wants out of me. Locane smiles cruelly as he watches the realization wash over my face.

Utilizing all my strength to push him back, I use his momentary stumble to raise my leg and kick. My bare foot lands perfectly where I intended across his jaw.

A shockwave from the impact travels up my leg, and I buckle back in pain.

I should have put the shoes on. And he knows it, too.

“Maybe you will learn to listen to me now.”

Spinning, I bring the staff down on his shoulder. It slaps noisily, echoing off the trees as the light of the sun rapidly dims.

“Maybe you start putting in effort before I break more of your stupid fucking teeth,” I spit at him.

Locane takes me at my word and comes at me much faster now, swinging with swift strikes that I block with more effort than before.

Still, my movements come easily to me— considering that I don’t remember any of my training that matters.

One of Locane’s tells quickly becomes noticeable, his left foot turning out every time he goes for a fake out move. I let him attack a few more times before using that to my advantage to switch my position to offense.

Locane goes for an attack, poised to swing up, but that foot shifts ever so slightly. Smiling wide, I duck low as his stance changes and he swings wide.

My staff slaps against the backs of his knees, sweeping his feet out from under him. His sword arm goes flying as he falls back into the grass. As soon as Locane is flat on the ground, I place a foot on his sword wrist and jab down with the staff, my face contorted in a mixture of passionate anger and joy of my impending victory.

I stop just short of smashing his throat and instead lightly tap the bottom of his chin.

“I think this means I win,” I tell him smugly, stepping off his wrist and reaching a hand out to help him up.

Locane takes my hand gently, seemingly taking me up on the gesture. He yanks me down, and I fall on top of him with a yelp of surprise. The staff goes flying somewhere to my right and he has me rolled over on my back in an instant. I’m breathing heavily while he looks down on me.

“You’re good. But you have more tools than that wooden staff in your arsenal. Maybe next time I can truly fight you without havingto do a beginner’s lesson.” Locane flicks my nose then gets to his feet, offering me his hand in the same way I just had him. I furrow my brows at his comment, but don’t have the energy to ask what he means.

“I didn’t ask for a beginner’s lesson. Actually, I didn’t ask for a lesson at all! I asked for a conversation. And you found a way to deflect. Again.”

Ignoring Locane’s hand, I roll over onto all fours before pushing myself up. My hair is a tangled mess around my face with stray leaves stuck in it.

“You may not have asked for the lesson, but you needed it. Follow me.”