I forgot to put this on the previous chapter so I will correct the error now: I own nothing of the Mortal Instruments Trilogy, I am merely a fan! Thanks to biblioholic taking the time to read and review :) hope I do the possibilities justice.
Chapter 2.
The next day began in a way that guaranteed change was round the corner. Michael was sleeping soundly when Julius strode into his room gleefully banging too large pans together extravagently, like he was announcing a King. Michael jumped up and fell into a tangled heap with a cry of surprise earning a sympathetic wince from his erstwhile mentor.
"I think we need to work on refining movement first of all."
Michael sat up, resting back on his hands not quite knowing how to take the intrusion. "What?" He answered groggily.
"I'm here to wake you up for your first lesson!" He replied in a voice usually reserved for talking to children.
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything but.. how did you get into my room?" He was still half asleep and could not grasp what exactly was going on. It surprised him that someone could just walk into his room when he put a locking rune on the door every night.
That earned a smirk from Julius. "Lock picking is a few lessons ahead of where your at. Now let's start with the basics." This earned a quiet grumble from the dark haired student as he wrapped his bedding around him and stood up in one staggering attempt.
"Where are the pans from? Anyway don't we both have classes?" Michael couldn't give up his morning mood just yet.
"The kitchen, they didn't mind." The brunette replied slightly too innocently. "Besides, we don't have lessons today, I told you my schedules kind of free and I told your Tutor I was giving you some training and he nearly fainted with happiness."
Michael grunted in reply and headed for the shower. He was stopped by an apologetic Julius. "No time for a shower. I let you sleep in an extra ten minutes. Trust me, you aren't always going to have time to get ready before a fight." After a pause he added, "you'll need one afterwards."
He casually threw a blunted seraph blade to Michael without even a glance. As Michael caught it he looked up to see Julius already striding out of his room, leaving him to throw the nearest clothes on as quickly as possible to catch up. Michael was already dreading the session for two reasons, the first being the traditional training methods used at the academy. Any shadowhunter could heal themselves perfectly well with an iratze mark, and every student was expected to be prepared for the reality of combat, therefore the academy saw it fit to train students with real weapons that had been dulled and blunted. They still hurt. The memories of bad training sessions still haunted Michael as he followed Julius outside. The second reason his stomach lurched was that he had no desire to embarass himself in front of his new friend, who appeared to be quite a skilled fighter.
They walked out of the academy grounds and headed out to the nearby woods for privacy, for which he was extremely grateful. After a few moments Julius began the lesson.
"Try to break through my defense, begin whenever your ready."
He stood with his arms by his sides, almost casually. As the first attack came he did not even need to bring his blade up to defend, but simply stepped aside. Michael concentrated and tried again, but his swing went wide of his target and the blade buried itself in an old tree trunk.
"See, this is the main problem." Sighed Julius, "you're not trying to hurt me, never mind kill me. You need to really try to break down the opponents sense of security. Try again but really aim for me, stir it up, I'll be alright."
He's smug, but he's right, admitted Michael to himself, he attempted to see Julius as a series of targets. After a moment, he attacked again with a renewed vigour, feinting a downward strike to the shoulder but then ducking low and lunging towards the stomach. Julius leant back away from the feint, and had to move twice as fast to avoid the second attack. As he parried, he swung his own blade forward towards Michael's upper arm, causing him to roll away, spinning on his knee and cutting an arc behind him to make Julius back away.
They both paused, Michael grinning madly at Julius until he returned the expression.
"Okay, that was better, but come on there's a hell of a lot more to do. Stand up."
The next few hours flew by in a whirl of blades, spins and good advice, leaving Michael exhausted but nursing a small amount of pride at his own improvement. They stopped for several breaks, and shared a drink of water, discussing a move that Michael wanted to practise or a particular weapons advantages. Julius called an end to the session as the day turned into late afternoon, the sun dimming behind the treetops. The pair headed back to the academy, talking animatedly about the days events.
Jackson and his two lackeys were outside the main hall with several other students, about to go into a lesson.
"Ah there you are 'Badblood' (he hated that nickname), I hoped all morning you'd got some sense and given up, but here you are. Glutton for punishment."
Several students gave a disapproving glance at the comment but ignored him as always. Michael was used to the odd comments. What he was not used too, was Julius walking up to Jackson and slamming him against the wall by his collar.
With a smile that seemed scarier than a scowl he spoke quietly to Jackson. "I dare you to say that again." His voice seemed cheerful but his eyes were hard and cold. Jackson himself was frozen in disbelief, and the rest of the class seemed eager to watch the encounter play out naturally. One of Jackson's 'friends' angrily reached for his captor, and faster than the eye, Julius grabbed his thumb and twisted it till he was on the ground whimpering, his other hand still not leaving Jackson's collar.
Jackson's face was now white as a sheet and he seemed to be struggling to think of a response that would not end in a vicious assault. He was spared in the end by the bell being rung for the class to enter. Julius let him go roughly, disgust etched on his features as he saw the trio slide away, all muttering furiously, accusing each other of doing nothing to help.
Michael meanwhile remained in a quasi-state of shock. He looked from the door of the hall which was now closed, back to Julius who looked slightly disappointed. His ease with dispatching Fyreborn left him feeling ashamed of his own lack of confidence. He found himself thinking back to their conversation the previous night. "Israfil huh?"
He nodded softly. "Well... an apt name. But you really didn't have to do that."
His friend looked up with a sly smile growing on his lips. "In a few days, I certainly wont. You'll become a true shadowhunter soon enough. Then you wont need me to get back at bastards like him." He nodded at his own words, seeming content with his own vision of the future.
"Come on, let's get some food." He shrugged, putting an arm over Michael's shoulder and leading him to the cafeteria.
Michael still seemed rather shaken about the confrontation until a laugh escaped, and his expression became full of wonder.
"Did you see his face? That expression was priceless." His comment leading them both to laugh, their conversation relaxing once more.
(Later that week)
"I swear you should have seen him, like a whirlwind. He lunged..." Michael heard Julius talking to a group of students about their latest training session and tried not to blush. He had to thank Julius, or 'Israfil' as he wanted to be called ("It's what my friends call me", he'd said that first morning.)
He knew most of the story he was telling was entirely fictional. He might have gotten lucky once or twice in a practise bout, but he'd never really strained the older student in their fights. Thinking to himself, he knew he had clearly improved. Enough to feel something close to confidence about the fight in two days. Jackson Fyreborn on the other hand had been furious about the incident five days ago and was telling anyone who would listen that he would destroy Michael in the tournament.
Five days. It seemed so much longer, as Michael found himself gravitating towards Israfil from the first day they trained. He relied on him, found him to be a steady constant in his life, and with that knowledge he had flourished. He found himself fighting in a way he'd never attempted, the running and lifting his mentor pushed him into making him feel faster. A seraph blade was far less heavy than the steel weights he had to carry. He found his actions both in the practise ring and out becoming more confident and deliberate. All in this week that he had known Israfil.
Now the fight was looming closer, he had asked for a training session in the practise rooms rather than their usual haunt of the woods. Israfil had been against it at first, pointing out that if Jackson saw them, they would lose the element of surprise. Though he caved in after Michael pointed out that it could help unnerve Jackson after all the boasts he'd made about the upcoming confrontation. He could only hope he wasn't just being sinfully proud of his newfound skills.
The pair circled each other carefully with small steps. A seraph blade in each hand, carefully analysing their opponents defenses. Israfil smirked with his eyes flickering to the rather sizable crowd around them. He winked at Michael and feinted an attack, causing Michael to take a step back and parry the non-existent strike. Looking sheepish he stepped forward, his face set with determination. He took a deep breath and lunged. Within two minutes it was all over.
Michael sat on the bench holding his arm steady as Israfil did the honours of drawing a healing mark. I didn't lose by too much, he thought, content with the outcome. He had landed several hits on Israfil, to the point that he also had needed healing after the match. To his knowledge, no one else had managed to touch him in practise, leaving him feeling very happy indeed.
"Sorry you lost." Israfil murmured to him, looking around the room at the partners sparring. Michael snorted and shook his head ruefully, "thanks, I was just done convincing myself I wasn't that bad."
"You weren't!" he insisted, sounding insulted at the comment. "Got in a hell of a good hit on my shoulder. That almost won it for you."
Michael smiled back at him, and they shook hands again, leaning back against the wall in exhaustion. "Did Jackson see it do you think?"
Israfil shook his head, "I didn't see him, but either way word spreads. He'll definately hear about it soon enough."
Ok, I'm hoping to do the next chapter on the fight and the immediate aftermath, and following on from that will be a few months later nearer the end of the year and onwards. If you like, please review, let me know if this is pathetic or worth a glance? :) Again, hope you enjoy it.
