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There were too many thoughts in her mind, too many turns the future might take, and too many issues here in the present. Khem rubbed at the edges of her scalp tattoo as though that might ease some of the pressure, and looked at her journal with uncharacteristic ambivalence. She could write, it usually helped. Or she could go out to the library, see what sort of books a noble family of Arrabar amassed - although if Jorran’s pet topics were any indication, they would be mostly frivolous minutiae. No… maybe. Undecided and restless, Khem stood up from her borrowed desk.
Almost as if she’d anticipated it - and she might have, her sense of these things had been taking strange turns recently - there came a knock on her door. Not enough of a premonition, she reflected ruefully, to tell her exactly who it was. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me. Can I come in?”
A most welcome distraction indeed. “By all means,” Khem said, and opened the door for Shay herself. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Actually,” Shay smirked, crossing her arms, “I was thinking maybe I could help you.”
Khem narrowed her eyes. “It’s possible you’ve been spending too much time with Harper. I know that expression.”
“It is a Harper-patented look for sure,” Shay admitted with a shrug, “but it’s very versatile. Anyway as much as we’re both worried for the man, that’s not the reason I came by.” Shay quirked her lips to the side thoughtfully. “You’re useless without your magic.”
Hidden in her sleeves, Khem’s fingers twitched slightly, an instinctive response to something that sounded vaguely like a threat against an acknowledged weakness. Shay , she reminded herself, forcing them to relax. “If you’re going to be talking tactics,” she said, “come in and shut the door.”
Khem leant against the desk as Shay took a seat. “I… do rely primarily upon it, of course,” she said. “Mistress Zhanti did manage to drill the basics of staffwork and crossbow into my head - a tedious and painful process, as you might imagine - but I was never a particularly apt student in that area. As you’ve noted.”
“I have,” Shay grinned, amused. “I was thinking perhaps you can show me what you do know, and I can work with you to improve upon it. Maybe even a friendly spar if you’re up for it?”
Khem stared at her. On one hand, Shay was offering her a chance to improve her defenses, which could save her life if she were caught without her spells. On the other... “ ‘Friendly’,” she repeated dryly. “Like that bout with Harper that left you both reeling about on the verge of unconsciousness? Or the time you beat seven kinds of excrement out of that half-orc bouncer and then invented an eighth?”
“I knew they could take it. What’s a few critical love taps to a couple of guys who’ve taken on so much more?” Shay’s smile had teeth, but she immediately schooled her expression into something less threatening. “I won’t go so hard on you, I promise. ...not until I know you can handle it.”
The last time Khem had crossed staves with an instructor wearing that expression, Mistress Zhanti had broken her arm… but it had cured her of dropping the end of her staff that all-important few inches. And she could say no, of course… but it would be foolish. She needed the lesson, if she were honest with herself, and Shay was not likely to inflict more pain than Khem could handle. She sighed. “Very well, then. Broken bones to be avoided if possible, and steer clear of my hands if you can.” Too much bruising or swelling would inhibit her ability to cast, which would… well. It was not desirable.
Shay bowed slightly, as well as she could while seated, and said firmly, “Of course, kvaleth. Nothing more than you are comfortable with. Well...there may be some discomfort, but nothing traumatizing.” She chuckled a little at her poor humor but then leveled a very serious gaze at Khem, “You will have no scars from me.”
“I trust you,” Khem said, the words still a little stiff and awkward in her mouth. “I am only… very familiar with my own shortcomings. Well.” She retrieved her staff of frost from beside the desk. As always, her hands tingled with its cold for a moment before they adjusted to the ice-like material. A good thing it was tougher than it looked… “Where do you intend to conduct your lesson, Instructor Shayazi?”
“I was thinking perhaps the courtyard where Harper threw his uncle’s remains, or if you prefer a less public setting, I did pass by a training hall that seemed deserted, just like the rest of this place.” Shay stood, brushing off the light creases of her tunic as she turned to go. “I leave it up to you.”
“The training hall,” Khem answered without hesitation. The idea of extra eyes learning exactly how incapable she was with a staff was one that made her scalp itch all over. She expected someone would turn up in any case - their companions had an uncanny knack for knowing when their presence was not wanted and supplying it in abundance - but there was no point in making it easy for them. “Lead the way.”
Shay nodded and left the room with Khem following close behind. The room they entered was large and mostly empty, dusty armor and weapons racks standing vigilant like solemn soldiers awaiting a battle that would never arrive. Shay stood there for a moment, briefly distracted by old memories and heavy thoughts. Then with a deep breath, she turned to Khem with what she hoped looked like a reassuring smile. “Right, then. Show me your basic defensive stance.”
That one was not too difficult; it had formed the beginning and end of every one of Mistress Zhanti’s lessons. Eventually it had almost come to feel natural. Almost… and it had been a long time since Khem had practiced her staffwork against an opponent. She took a deep breath and set her feet carefully, staff held in a two-handed grip across her body. “Close enough?”
Shay circled Khem once in thoughtful silence before making a tsk-ing sound and muttering, “Trust a wizard to teach martial combat.” She moved in and kicked Khem’s feet wider apart, pressing her hands down on her shoulders, directing her into a wide and low squat. “You are tall but weak. If you don’t have a strong foundation, you’ll get knocked over like a leaf.” Then Shay gave Khem’s hands a critical eye but did not touch them. “Tighten your grip, enough to handle a shock but not so hard that your muscles stiffen,” she said simply.
Then she stood in front of Khem and promptly struck the middle of the weapon with an open palm.
The choice of strike might be unusual - Mistress Zhanti had favoured a low sweep, intended to crack off-guard students across the shins - but Khem had been watching carefully, expecting something of the kind ever since Shay had approached her. With the corrections Shay had made to her centre of gravity and grip, it was not too difficult to weather the blow and respond with the counter-blow she’d been taught for that kind of strike.
She pulled it almost instantly - Shay wasn’t armed and anticipating the instructor was not wise - returning to what felt like the position Shay had put her in. “Apologies.”
Shay frowned. “Do it,” she said, moving into a defensive stance of her own, one Khem had seen in combat before, passive but anchored to the ground. “Show me what they taught you.”
“Mostly, not this,” Khem muttered. The counterstrike felt ridiculously telegraphed now, without the context, but obediently she jabbed the left end of the staff - her dominant and stronger side - towards Shay’s shoulder.
With what sounded suspiciously like a tired sigh, Shay nimbly dodged the blow, twisting her upper torso to the side while keeping her weight distributed evenly on the ground. Then she slid one foot forward and up and tapped it against the inside of Khem’s knee joint and watched the wizard crumple to the ground.
“It appears you were taught very generic movements. You need to be more mindful of what best suits your height and weight,” Shay said in a clinical way, almost as if it was a recitation. “In order for you to aim up at me, you weakened your stance and returned to your old habits. Do it again.”
Weak. It was a word that Khem hated, like helpless and stupid , and it was the second time Shay had stabbed it at her since they’d entered that room. Not unfairly, not in this arena, which was worse. She stood up swiftly - students on the ground were preferred targets for correction - and returned to stance, consciously planting her feet wider, settling herself lower. It felt unnatural and exposed, but, yes, she was steadier.
“Vitals.”
“Vitals?” Khem asked, curling her fingers tighter about her staff. No, too tight… she had the tendency to clench to white knuckles when uncertain or otherwise mentally off-balance. She corrected that, too.
Shay bared her teeth, her stubby fangs peeking out over her bottom lip. “It’s not just movement, Khem. It’s intent .” A wicked gleam entered her eyes, not bloodthirst. Not exactly. But something close. “You have to want to kill me.”
“If I wanted to kill you, I’d choose a method considerably more effective than an oversized stick,” Khem retorted, but she knew exactly what Shay meant. She exhaled slowly, the physical signal for a mental reflex as old as any she had. Lock away anything irrelevant - Shay and trust and the friendly grip of a hand on her shoulder, the burr of her breathing in the night, too many secrets and old pain. Let it go. See only the threat. A half-orc, female, an unpredictable brute, a deadly physical threat who must be dealt with, standing there and insulting her, seeing her as easy prey.
Khem could do that. It was almost too easy. She looked at the half-orc with coldly assessing eyes. She could not afford to take too defensive a tack - the creature’s greater strength would wear her down too quickly. By the same token, it would be swifter and fiercer than she in the attack, and it wasn’t as though she had any allies or any slaves to throw at it. No. This was her life, nobody else would defend it, and she would not surrender it easily.
She moved in, low and swift, staff blurring into a vicious strike that looked like a feint, but was intended to connect solidly with the ribs.
The blow connected - or would’ve if Shay didn’t sidestep at the last second. She danced away, turning to watch Khem as her momentum threw her in a wide arc. The wizard stumbled over her feet as she lost her equilibrium, but with a smart shift of her weight, she was able to right herself and fall back immediately into the stance Shay taught her.
Shay’s eyes widened for a split second in pleasant surprise, and her lips curled up slightly in a secret smile. She had a feeling that Khem would be a quick learner, able to adapt - to draw on a suitable thread and feed it into the violence she needed to protect herself. To harness the fear and bend your rage against them , as Paj used to say. Technique can only get you so far. Instinct will save your life.
“Well done,” Shay said, nodding, “but you can do better. Again.”
She stepped to the side, shifting her weight deliberately to remind Khem of the importance of having a strong foundation, and began circling the wizard in a basic pattern. The stance was meant to intimidate, and judging by the wary expression on Khem’s face as she turned in stance, hiding her unprotected back, all of the wizard’s senses were on high alert. She watched as Khem’s grip tightened on her staff once again before loosening, as her muscles stiffened in readiness and her face hardened with intent. Too many tells, Khem, but we’ll fix that.
Then Khem came at her and struck.
No use in attacking hands or arms; the half-orc held no weapon, and by the corded muscles in shoulders and biceps, needed none. Striking high had not served her well before; the Red Wizard went low, aiming not as much for where the half-orc was, but where she thought it would find itself when it dodged out of the way.
Shay frowned again. No, Khem … She sidestepped each thrust and sweep of the wizard's staff, not without some difficulty despite the wild way in which she telegraphed every strike. Khem was capable, just unpracticed. Her tendency to fall back on generic technique was...not wrong - not really, but she needed a way to react instinctively. She needed to end things effectively before she could get hurt.
Just as Khem swept her staff across in an arc once again aimed for her midsection, Shay caught the weapon in one hand and used Khem's momentum to redirect the blow. “Are you dancing with me, raalkir ?” she taunted in Mulhorandi.
“ Nishkir .” The correction hissed out between her teeth. There was more she could say, words locked away that she could free. The halfbreed creature would not dance away from those as easily as she did from the wizard’s clumsy strikes… no. She needed her breath, and a clear mind; retaliation to such a puerile taunt would serve no real purpose. She needed to kill or disable it, and soon.
It already thought her efforts contemptible, that she was weak … she could use that. As the Red Wizard circled the half-orc in turn, her stance grew high and sloppy. She struck out a couple of times: small, ineffectual swipes that would barely have bruised a child, which the half-orc ignored as they deserved.
Then she lunged out, deliberately overreaching. Her foe redirected her momentum, as she had been reliably doing; with her foundation eroded, the wizard fell heavily to one knee. A spike of pain shot through the abused joint, but she was solidly grounded and exactly where she’d intended to be. Her staff snapped out viciously for the half-orc’s head.
Time slowed for Shay as she watched the staff of frost swing toward her without thought or form, just pure intent and anger and frustration channeled into a blow that could stun her, or worse. She swayed a little, pivoting from her hips to dodge the attack and was fairly confident that she could avoid it, except--
-Whump-
Shay reeled back from the impact, her head ringing as the staff ricocheted off her temple. Bright spots danced along the edges of her vision as she waited for things to settle. Where in hells did that come from? It didn't feel like a lucky shot...not really, more like something inevitable, like fate.
“Good,” she nodded, brushing a hand over her injury and wincing slightly at the contact. It stung, but it wasn't serious. And she couldn't help but feel proud of her kvaleth . She watched as Khem stood, slipping once again into a wide, basic stance, wary and alert. “It hurts, doesn't it?” Shay asked, gesturing toward the knee Khem fell on when she executed that brilliant attack. “That's how you know you're doing it right.”
“Less speech.”
Shay grinned widely, reaching into her bag for the three-sectioned staff she rarely ever used and falling into a solid defensive squat. “Yes, nishkir. ”
That, the Red Wizard thought as her foe armed itself, was the problem with playing psateth-atka. Being underestimated was useful, but it never lasted past that initial strike. If it hadn’t been decisive - as hers had not, and at the cost of a stiff and uncomfortable knee - your enemy was alerted and began to take you more seriously. Things had escalated; she expected the half-orc would do more than simply evade her now.
She moved in again, her staff moving in a flurry of strikes intended only to get a sense of how the half-orc would respond.
Shay rolled her eyes inwardly. She supposed it would take a lot more to break a Red Wizard of old habits. To be fair, she found very little fault with Khem’s technique, but there was no drive behind her strikes. It made the hit she landed seem like a fluke, only Shay knew it wasn’t.
Still, Shay had to admit it was fun to poke at Khem’s exposed and weak points as she dodged her wild swings. “You’re dying. Defend yourself,” Shay called out, keeping her voice as bland as possible. She watched as Khem clenched her jaw in clear frustration and bit her cheek to keep her amusement from showing.
Khem launched into another series of well-rehearsed movements, which were all easily blocked. But despite Khem’s best efforts, Shay saw that the physical exertion was beginning to take its toll. Hearing Khem’s labored breathing and seeing the way Khem bent her elbows, keeping her staff closer to her body to reduce the weight on her arms, Shay knew she had to end it soon. There would be time later to continue if Khem wished to.
After delivering a few more well-placed lessons with her staff, Shay leapt back and stood in a wide stance with her staff held passively behind her. “That’s enough for today. Come back now, kvaleth. ”
Kvaleth.
The word sank through the protective layers of instinct and desperation and adrenaline like a stone through water. The Red Wizard took a breath, lowering her staff and refusing to let her fatigued arms tremble as she closed her eyes for a moment and restored everything she’d locked away to its proper place.
“Wastet-le,” Khem answered, then smiled. “Shay.” There was warmth in the expression, but also a touch of shame - that she had been so easily outmatched, so helpless. “How’s your head?”
Shay shrugged at her, tucking her thumbs casually into the cloth belt at her waist, and smirked. “How's yours?”
It was spoken teasingly, but Khem could hear the uncertainty, the question Did I push too hard? unspoken and only lightly obscured. “I am not entirely fragile,” she said, the words laced with indignation that was mostly assumed.
She watched Shay's shoulders visibly relax as she breathed a soft sigh of relief. “Not as much as before anyway. We'll keep working at it.”
“You mean, you will find other occasions to beat your superiority in such matters into my skull.”
“It sounds so much more fun when you say it.”
“You’re welcome.” It was not her business; nevertheless, curiosity and perhaps a minor taste for revenge brought the question out. “Will you also be providing the benefits of your expertise to Katy?”
Shay, who was just about to turn and leave the room, stumbled slightly and barely managed to keep from looking like a complete flailing idiot. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as her mind tried to deliver an eloquent, witty, and coherent response.
“...buh?”