Art of the Sword

[Zandra Tal'verda]

Zandra stood in an open field, two dull training swords in each hand as she watched the sun rise. This felt so much like it had her very first day training as a child with her Father, mother and the Echani elder. Her sister had been there too that day. She remembered the open field, cool morning air, fresh dew on the grass. Her Father had placed his hand on her shoulder, told her he knew she would be perfect.

She had been far from it.

Her sister Janira was a natural.

Zandra had struggled, cheeks going red with shame every time her sister parried at the correct moment, or thrust when she was meant to. Zandra had gone all on feel. There was no structure, no raw natural talent.
Zandra had failed her first trial. Janira had gone on to be known as a prodigy.

But now Janira as she knew her, was dead. Zandra was alive. Zandra was now the heir to the Fenni family.

It had taken many years, but Zandra had developed as a warrior. She was not warrior the clan elder expected her to be, of course. She did not follow direction well. Her movements were not well structured. She followed no rules of fighting, save one- win.

But it had worked. It had kept her alive. Now, she was a teacher to some poor soul.

"Force help us all," she murmured to herself as she watched the sun peak over the hills.

 

[Llkt'tudrin'wyshd]

With long strides, Ydrin emerged from the tree line and entered the open. Casting his purple eyes around the field, Ydrin quickly noticed the figure of the woman he had come to meet, Zandra Tal'Verda. At the far side of the open field, the flat ground rose up to form large and small hills, behind which the sun rose, casting large grooves of shadows between each small peak.

Ydrin had approached his senior, in both age and rank, crew member for lessons for the usage of a rapier after hearing that the woman wield one of his chosen style of swords herself.

Walking up to stand a short distance behind Zandra, Ydrin cleared his throat to announce his presence before offering a quick nod of greeting when his fellow blonde turned to face him.

[member="Zandra Tal'verda"]

 

[Zandra Tal'verda]

The Echani did not look when her student announced himself. Her cybernetic right hand twitched on the blade, the only indication that she heard him. The sun rose, inch by inch over the hills, and Zandra watched. The stars above disappeared one at a time as daylight crept in.
It was just like that day.

She was six. Her and her twin sister were led to an open feild just before sunrise by their father. He smiled wide, eyes crinkling at the corners. He had such friendly eyes. She'd remember his smile until the day she died. Neither of the twin girls had a clue why they were there. Father said nothing about it, and refused to speak to either of them until the Echani elder came into view.

The ancient woman was hunched over her cane, long star white hair pulled back in a braid so long she could trip someone with it. Janira had been the first to bow, remembering her lessons. Zandra followed immediately after, taking her sisters cue.



Zandra threw the sword to the boy without needing to look at him.

"Before the sun rises overhead," she said, repeating the words the elder had said to her many years ago, "you will strike me, or you will fail."

For the first time in years, the Echani had dropped her spacer accent. Standing in the middle of the field with a dull training sword, was a fully realized Echani warrior.

[member="Ydrin"]

 

[Llkt'tudrin'wyshd]

Catching the wooden sword deftly, Ydrin nodded in a fierce determination and settled into the only stance he knew that was relevant to the ancient art of wielding a blade in hand, one that he had leant from his old fencing lessons back on Naboo. HIs left foot would slide forwards, bent at the knee, while his right would slide to the side and be turned to a forty0five degree angle. His left hand, holding the sword, was placed in front of him while his right was held against the small of his back. His body was turned to the left so as to show a smaller target.


Settling into the stance, Ydrin stayed completely still, purple eyes, one with a black and cloudy film covering the whites, fixed on Zandra. He would wait for Zandra to make the first move.


[member="Zandra Tal'verda"]

 

[Zandra Tal'verda]

The tiny Echani child had been the first to run at the elderly Echani woman. Her intricately braided white hair flying behind her as she screamed and put all her weight into the swing. Little Zandra was knocked immediately onto her back by a blow that was far too quick to see. The inside of her cheek was bleeding, her face red where she'd been struck. While she spat out blood, she saw her sister, nearly identical in every way, fly at her next. But Janira was not wild and unpredictable like Zandra. She was grace. She was beauty. She was.... Perfect.

Almost 40 years later, Zandra was not that child, although the girls spirit still clung to her, guided her blade. She stood for a long time. He would not come? Fine then. He needed a kick in the shebs. Fine. Her eyes snapped open again and she went at him. Light on her feet. Grace. Beauty. Just like Janira.

[member="Ydrin"]

 

[Llkt'tudrin'wyshd]

Taking a moment to admire the gracefulness of Zandra's attack as he blade closed in on him, Ydrin focussed on what his next move should be.

Reacting as quickly as he could, Ydrin brought his practice blade up to catch the inside of Zandra's blade, focussing on what he considered the most important rule within the art of fencing, an art he had studied previously. Never waste movement nor energy. His blade was travelling towards his shoulder, where it would come to a stop, when it met the lunging sword of Zandra's sword. With a slight push, the lunge was redirected away from his torso and instead pushed just to the side, close enough to his body that he could almost feel it pass.

Following through from his parry, Ydrin flowed into a reposte and retreat combination. Taking a leap backwards, kept low so that his feet would barely leave the ground, Ydrin pushed his sword out, lunging it towards the centre of mass for the female opposite him. Focussing, he aimed to track her next move and learn from what she did.


[member="Zandra Tal'verda"]