Outside the Matron's study, another male was waiting. He was tall, with the stark white hair, dark skin and crimson eyes characteristic of the race. His body was leanly muscled, tensed and alert, like some huge cat waiting to pounce. Right now, he was listening to the boy's oldest sister speak. She was apparently giving him some sort of instructions. Nym stood back, not wanting her to think he was eavesdropping. When she finished speaking, the weapons master nodded and gave a brief reply. He kept his eyes trained on the floor until she left.
When the high priestess had swept away, Nym and the weapons master both looked up at each other. The master's eyes were hard and dangerous, and despite the fact that he was just another male, Nym felt slightly afraid of him.
"You are the secondboy."
Nym nodded, not quite sure of how to behave.
"Follow me." and the weapons master walked off. Nym followed him down a series of corridors, a flight of stairs, a few more corridors, through a doorway and into a large, plain room.
"My name," said the master, shutting the door. "is Belgos. I am to instruct you in the basics of swordfighting. I advise you to study hard, to improve yourself so that someday you will be of value to this house."
All the old bitterness came rearing up inside the boy, "So if I study hard enough, I'll become female?"
"No." said the master. He regarded his student calmly.
"So what's the point?" Nym asked, spitting the last word.
The weapons master continued looking solemnly at him for a few moments, and then he would say no more on the subject. He directed the boy's attention to a rack of weaponry, finely crafted admantite swords, daggers, rapiers. "Experiment. Discover which weapon best suits you."
Nym gave him a quick searching glance, wondering what was up with this guy. Then he went over to the rack and examined the weapons. He picked up a sword, spun it around clumsily and accidentally dropped it. He quickly picked it up, looking over at the weapons master to see if he was laughing. Belgos was still watching him with that infuriatingly serene expression on his face. He saw the boy's embarrassment and smiled, almost kindly.
"Don't worry." he said, "They're hard to handle in the beginning. That's why I'm supposed to teach you."
Nym shrugged, not sure what to say. He decided in his mind that it was certainly more fun to be taught by a male than a female.
He continued to inspect the weapons, trying to figure out the strengths and weaknesses of each with his incredibly limited knowledge. Finally he settled on a well-crafted, plain shortsword.
He pulled it out and looked at Belgos, now seated on the floor some distance away, patiently watching him. The weapons master looked back at him, as if to say 'what?'.
"What now?" Nym asked. The master got to his feet and came over. He looked at the shortsword's twin, still on the rack. He picked it up and tossed it to him.
"Spin them around a bit." said the master. "See if you can use them both at once."
Nym tried, slashing clumsily at the air. Nonetheless, the master seemed to decide that he could use both, for he did not take the other away and put it back.
"Now," the master said. "I will teach you some basic techniques. Start with both weapons in ready position."
Thus began Nym's training. He was an excellent student and while strict, the weapons master did not hesitate to give praise where it was due.
As the boy learned, the gym became a kind of escape for him. There were no high priestesses, whips or other reminders of who he was here. He could forget his 'inferiority', forget all the conditioning that had been so throughly drilled into him. Here, with his swords in his hands, with his sweat running down his back, with the familiar sounds of weapon against weapon ringing in his ears, he was safe and strong and alive.
Of course, at night, when the weapons were sheathed and the adrenaline had faded away, it all came rushing back. He knew now though, that there was absolutely nothing that could be done. He was weak and worthless and that was it. He was past crying over it, it would make the scars hurt worse. He just washed away the helplessness, forcing himself to forget. And then, the next morning, he could pull out his swords, sink into his world, and kill his weaknesses, one by one.
Finally, after many years of training, Belgos decided he was ready to attend the academy. Nym was not so sure, but as with so many other aspects of his life, he did not really have a choice. The matron came, to watch him spar. Nym had not seen her since he had started training.
She swept in, followed by his older sister. Her face was smooth, expressionless. Her whip writhed at her side, begging for a chance at his flesh. Fear woke up in the young man's heart at the sight of that weapon and he dropped to his knees before her, the scars on his back throbbing with a sudden intensity.
"Look at me." she ordered him. He drew in a deep breath and looked obediently up into her flashing red eyes. "So, boy," she said, vague amusement in her silky voice, "You think you're ready for the Academy?" His sister was standing beside him now, making him increasingly nervous.
He wanted to say that it wasn't he who thought he was ready, that it was Master Belgos, he wanted to politely ask his sister to please not kick him in the ribs, he wanted her to kindly go away and leave him alone so he could fall back into his safe world and never have to leave. Of course, he knew better than to say any of that.
Instead, he took another deep breath, forcing his mind to think fast so he wouldn't hesitate, wouldn't waste her time.
"I have been training for a long while, Matron Mother. I would be honored if you would allow me to attend the Academy." He knew his answer was not perfect, but he just hoped it wouldn't anger her too badly.
The matron's small, amused smile widened slightly. She nodded to the weapons master, kneeling unobtrusively off to one side. He got to his feet, swept a low bow to her and charged at Nym.
He was surprised, caught off guard. He rolled quickly to his feet and out of the master's way, drawing his swords as he went. He brought them into a defensive position in front of him, adjusting his stance, waiting for the master to attack again. He didn't dare risk a glance at his mother, instead searching inside himself for the strong, brave Nym who was sure of himself and in control.
When Belgos slashed again, he had found him.
His mother and sister (who had stepped quietly out of the way) watched. His sister was grinning her crooked grin, which would have been friendly if not for the look in her eyes that accompanied it. His mother was standing perfectly still, watching and smiling her small, amused smile.
He did not see either of them, too busy playing his beautiful, deadly game. It was the farthest Belgos had ever pushed him and he welcomed the challenge, driving away all the worry inside him with the fire of being so marvelously, wonderfully alive. He was not tiring, still fighting with all his strength.
Finally, the matron had apparently seen enough. She said one single word in some language unknown to him. Irrational panic swept through his mind, and his body was hurled through the air to land against the far wall. He hit the wall with a groan, his perfect world rapidly fading away.
Thanks for reading and reviewing:)