To Kill a Courier, 9th Winter, 514AV
Confidence was something that Shakune had always possessed. She laughed in the face of humility and enjoyed jokes that were made at her own expense as much as any other. Her ability to shrug off an insult was second only to her ability to down a pint.
Now, something had changed.
Slim fingers gripped the handle of her khopesh, and Shakune looked down at the slickly curved blade. She stared down at it warily, as if the weapon might jump up and slash her throat at any moment. Her free hand touched her neck gently and Shakune shuddered at the memory of cold metal pressed against her windpipe.
"May I see it?"
The half-breed glanced up to the older man opposite her. His bright eyes betrayed his race as a Benshira: something that would usually prickle Shakune's nerves. Any memory of the desert was unwelcome to her, even in the face of one who belonged to a different race.
Rigidly, she extended the blade to the man, who took it briskly from her. In his aged, practised hands, the khopesh came alive. His wrists turned and flicked as he tested its weight, then Mac raised the weapon up to his eye line to investigate it closer. Shakune watched, jealous that a stranger could so easily awaken a weapon that she should be well practised in. Guilt nibbled at her gut; the weapon had been her mother's and Shakune had not done it justice.
"A nice blade, if a little past it's best." After Mac had returned the weapon to Shakune, he retrieved his own gladius. The blade was short in comparison to the khopesh, but the black-eyed courier eyed it cautiously all the same. "Show me what you can do."
It was another chime before Shakune made a move. She had received no proper training in how to use the khopesh, only casual tips from half-drunk friends that she would then try to practise the next morning. They never ended well. She shuffled forward, aware of Mac's even gaze as she swept the khopesh horizontally. As her arm arced away from her body, Shakune lost her balance and had to stumble to the left to stop herself from tipping over. Her copper skin flushed pink on her cheeks, and she mentally chastised herself. "As you can see.... I have had little practise."
"Even that may be an exaggeration." Mac said bluntly, his lips smirking callously. "But never mind. Let's begin."
With a jolt of his hand, Mac motioned Shakune to follow him. They stood opposite each other, the half-breed resting her khopesh on the ground and Mac watching her critically. "The khopesh is a heavy weapon; slow but powerful. The inner curve of the blade is rarely sharpened and it used more for disarming enemies. It is the reverse the blade that you slash and cut with. That said; you lead with the curved side." Mac paused, as if to consider whether Shakune would understand this simple explanation.
When she nodded, the older Benshira continued. "I want you to swing your weapon horizontally, but when it contacts my blade, pull it back."
It sounded easy enough, so Shakune nodded once again and watched as he positioned himself. He stood slanted, almost sideways to her but not quite. His right arm held the gladius, pointing outwards and towards Shakune. She eyed it cautiously, the pit of her stomach twisting ever so slightly as she recalled the gang fight in the market place. She threw a questioning look to Old Mac: had he been there, killing people? He watched her back with an even gaze.
Shakune raised her Khopesh. The weapon was heavy, and it was only now that she was finally using it that she fully appreciated its weight. When she moved it towards Mac's gladius, she had to throw herself sideways to get the weapon moving.
The trainer was not impressed. He released a bellow and parried her slow, ambling attack. Metal clashed on metal and Shakune had no choice but to drop her weapon or fall down with it.
Now, something had changed.
Slim fingers gripped the handle of her khopesh, and Shakune looked down at the slickly curved blade. She stared down at it warily, as if the weapon might jump up and slash her throat at any moment. Her free hand touched her neck gently and Shakune shuddered at the memory of cold metal pressed against her windpipe.
"May I see it?"
The half-breed glanced up to the older man opposite her. His bright eyes betrayed his race as a Benshira: something that would usually prickle Shakune's nerves. Any memory of the desert was unwelcome to her, even in the face of one who belonged to a different race.
Rigidly, she extended the blade to the man, who took it briskly from her. In his aged, practised hands, the khopesh came alive. His wrists turned and flicked as he tested its weight, then Mac raised the weapon up to his eye line to investigate it closer. Shakune watched, jealous that a stranger could so easily awaken a weapon that she should be well practised in. Guilt nibbled at her gut; the weapon had been her mother's and Shakune had not done it justice.
"A nice blade, if a little past it's best." After Mac had returned the weapon to Shakune, he retrieved his own gladius. The blade was short in comparison to the khopesh, but the black-eyed courier eyed it cautiously all the same. "Show me what you can do."
It was another chime before Shakune made a move. She had received no proper training in how to use the khopesh, only casual tips from half-drunk friends that she would then try to practise the next morning. They never ended well. She shuffled forward, aware of Mac's even gaze as she swept the khopesh horizontally. As her arm arced away from her body, Shakune lost her balance and had to stumble to the left to stop herself from tipping over. Her copper skin flushed pink on her cheeks, and she mentally chastised herself. "As you can see.... I have had little practise."
"Even that may be an exaggeration." Mac said bluntly, his lips smirking callously. "But never mind. Let's begin."
With a jolt of his hand, Mac motioned Shakune to follow him. They stood opposite each other, the half-breed resting her khopesh on the ground and Mac watching her critically. "The khopesh is a heavy weapon; slow but powerful. The inner curve of the blade is rarely sharpened and it used more for disarming enemies. It is the reverse the blade that you slash and cut with. That said; you lead with the curved side." Mac paused, as if to consider whether Shakune would understand this simple explanation.
When she nodded, the older Benshira continued. "I want you to swing your weapon horizontally, but when it contacts my blade, pull it back."
It sounded easy enough, so Shakune nodded once again and watched as he positioned himself. He stood slanted, almost sideways to her but not quite. His right arm held the gladius, pointing outwards and towards Shakune. She eyed it cautiously, the pit of her stomach twisting ever so slightly as she recalled the gang fight in the market place. She threw a questioning look to Old Mac: had he been there, killing people? He watched her back with an even gaze.
Shakune raised her Khopesh. The weapon was heavy, and it was only now that she was finally using it that she fully appreciated its weight. When she moved it towards Mac's gladius, she had to throw herself sideways to get the weapon moving.
The trainer was not impressed. He released a bellow and parried her slow, ambling attack. Metal clashed on metal and Shakune had no choice but to drop her weapon or fall down with it.
