-Chapter 5-
"Dodge to the side, you useless lump! Don't just back up and expect me to stop!"
Scar once again looked up in the face of Scythe as he loomed over her, criticizing her defense techniques for about the fifth time that day. And she was fed up with hearing it.
"Well what about your sloppy attacks? I've seen week old pups that can make cleaner blows then you! You're supposed to slash, not flail randomly! No wonder I'm backing up!" That was the first time Scar had actually retorted; most of the time she had scowled and just tried again. Scythe fumed, and he glared at her.
"You're actually telling me, a gnawer, how to fight like one?" he spat.
"Yeah, I am." Scar coolly raised an eyebrow. For a second, there was silence. And then the rat groaned.
"Whatever. Let's just have another go."
Scar had begun training in the arena with Jett for a while now, and it was clear that she was a hopeless case in wielding a sword. She wasn't used to the extra weight to carry while fighting, and would often, in common moments of frustration, toss the sword off to the side and throw a punch instead, which sent more than one battle partner off to the doctors with a black eye, broken nose, or fat lip. Her instructors were getting fed up with teaching her, but that was minimal compared to how fed up she was with learning from them.
The last session had been the worst.
"All right, Scar, it's step right, spin, and stab, got it?" Gale, her coach for the day, instructed. Scar gave a short nod, and stepped right, spun and—
"Ahhh!"
Scar wheeled around and spotted her sword slashing through a flag someone had been holding, hitting a stone wall, and falling to the ground with a clang. She groaned.
"Damn!" she swore. A few more curses followed; Scar was often being reprimanded for her foul mouth.
Gale made no comment on her swearing; he just waved an apology at the Underlander that was holding what was now a torn flag and turned to face his hopeless student.
"Scar, we cannot have you tossing blades all around the arena. You could kill someone." He frowned.
Like I didn't know that. She mirrored his expression. Anyway, let them die, it would serve them right for making me learn this.
"I'm just not used to fighting with a weapon," she mumbled, her head down. She felt Gale try to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she hissed at him and he pulled it away. Scar lifted her head up and studied her teacher carefully. He could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen. Why was he instructing a training session so young? Was he even qualified for this? Who was he to tell her how she should fight?
"I know that," he replied to her previous statement. "But it does not matter. Now that you are living in Regalia, you have to learn how to fight like a Regalian. Simple logic. In a battle, you cannot just be punching your enemies; you would be dead in a heartbeat."
"Why would I have to be in a battle? It's obvious you all hate me; why the hell would you want me fighting on your side?" she shouted, losing her temper and drawing every eye in the arena to her and Gale, including Jett's; her adoptive brother was standing a few yards away, practicing with the people who weren't lost causes like she was.
"Scar—" Gale began, but with that, she stormed out of the arena, ignoring the calls behind her. And she had gone right to Scythe to ask him for a favor.
So that was how Scar had ended up where she was now; in Scythe's tunnel on the ground, staring up in frustration at the rat. Because in return for keeping his hiding place a secret, Scythe was teaching Scar how to use a sword against a real rat. And these lessons were much more progressive than her arena ones. That was probably because Scythe wasn't afraid to chew her out for displeasing him; all her human trainers drew away from her like they were scared of her. It was funny, but Scar was tired of being shunned.
When the gnawer charged at her this time, she sidestepped quickly to the edge of the cave, and when Scythe was a footstep ahead of her, she aimed her sword directly at his shoulder and managed to make a scratch before he was on top of her again. He let her up quickly and briskly nodded.
"Better. If you fight more like that every time you may stand a chance of passing your Battle Assessment." His words had approval in them.
Battle assessments were something all Underlanders between the ages eleven and fifteen were required to take once a year, to determine their training level for the following one. Except for the Final Assessment, at sixteen, to determine your place in the official Regalian army…if you had a place. If you failed the final, or chose not to go into a military path, then you would not be placed on the force. You would have the option to retake the final once every year after that, but only a few people chose to do that.
Scar had resisted when the trainers had first told her, about a week ago, that she would be taking it; her argument had been that she had only been here for a little while; that she wasn't used to fighting like a human, and besides, she didn't even want to be in the army. But they had insisted it was entirely mandatory. Scythe had told her it was better to agree with them than to resist them; as they could make her life miserable.
"But my life is already miserable, what difference does it make?" she had complained to the rat. But he had just given her that look of his; the glare mixed with a 'I know you didn't just say that to me' sort of expression, and she had sighed and reluctantly agreed.
"That's enough for today," Scythe yawned. "Dunno about you, but I'm beat." Scar found it weird, but oddly comforting, that Scythe treated her like a gnawer. It reassured her that she was at least okay at something, even if it wasn't something she was supposed to be okay at.
"But isn't Sleekshine coming today?" Scar asked. Sleekshine was Scythe's mate. Scythe had told Scar she could meet her, but hadn't said exactly when. Part of the reason Scar was asking was that she didn't want to go back to living the human life she was horrible at; she would rather stay here with the rat who at least understood her better than Jett or his parents pretended to.
"She can't," Scythe informed her. "She's stuck in some debate; they want her opinion on some nibbler conspiracy or something." He sighed. For the first time, Scar realized his predicament. For some reason, he could not return to the Gnawer's Lands, but he was caught up in a relationship with a rat who still lived there, who he loved over anything. And no one else, save Scar, who already knew, could know about them being together. He had it hard, Scar had to admit that.
"Oh, okay. Bye." Scar gave a small wave to the rat, and then left through the crevice in the wall.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
"Excellent aim, Jett! And Mars, perfect maneuvering! Couldn't have been better!"
Jett just shrugged off his coach's praise like it was nothing important. But inside, he was proud that he had pleased Pervett. Mars could probably see through his nonchalant response, because his bond twitched his big bat ears amusement.
"No big deal, huh?" the flier humorously spoke Jett's exact thoughts, with a huh huh huh of laughter. Jett laughed along with him.
"No big deal," he repeated with a smirk.
Jett and Mars were beginning their first advanced aerial attacks training session, and they were passing it with flying colors. The last move they had been told to do was very tricky indeed; Mars had to fly forward at full speed, barrel roll to the left, and finally do a 90 degree turn, positioning himself alongside the designated target, a sack of sand, about fifteen feet above and twenty feet away. Then he had to zoom forward once more, and while he was doing that, Jett had to throw a knife into a circle painted on the sand sack. Jett's dagger had just pierced the sack and sand had begun spilling out when the team received Pervett's praise. Mars flipped around to face their coach once more.
As Pervett beckoned to him, Jett slipped off of his bond's back and jumped to the ground. He walked over to his trainer and Pervett slapped him a high five.
"Wonderful," he said. "I had no idea your aim was so great. We should put you on dagger practice more often."
Jett just shrugged again. "Sure."
Pervett's eyes traveled around the arena, finally landing on someone and beckoning to him. The coach turned back to Jett.
"And now, Jett, there is something else I want to ask of you."
Jett stared at him quizzically. After a few seconds, the man Pervett had beckoned to before came over to them. He looked young; Jett couldn't tell if he was a student or a trainer.
Suddenly he recognized him. "You're Scar's coach," he observed, remembering his adopted sister training with him a few days ago.
The man nodded. "I am Gale," he said. There was a pause. "And actually, we've come to you to discuss Scar."
Jett cocked an eyebrow. "What's wrong with her?" he asked, then immediately regretted his words. He knew exactly what was wrong with that girl. She was a stupid excuse for a human, that's what. And her training had obviously not been going well.
"Nothing, of course," Gale said quickly, probably thinking Jett was standing up for his 'family'. "But you have probably noticed that she's not…well…"
"…a great fighter?" Jett finished, guessing what he was about to say. Gale nodded, looking grateful.
"I am glad you understand, Jett," he gave a brisk nod. "So then you probably can see why we want…well, we would like it if you helped her along with her training a bit. You see her more than we do."
Behind Gale, Pervett nodded his agreement. Jett stared at the both of them, appalled.
"Help her?"
"Yes."
"With her training? Me?"
"Precisely."
Jett gawked. "You want me to train her?"
"Just for a little while, until she gets the hang of it. Not permanently," said Gale quickly.
The first words out of Jett's mouth were "No! I will not."
Gale and Pervett just stared him down harder. Finally he cracked.
"Fine. I can try, if it means so much to you. But she probably will not even let me." He groaned once again. "Why do you even bother with her, anyway? We should just send her right back where she came from in the first place."
With that, he jumped into the air, and Mars was under him in seconds. The pair soared out of the arena, and Jett called a quick "Bye!" over his shoulder to his coach.
He couldn't believe this.