Chapter 53

After fetching their swords from her room, they went to the training quadrant behind the Sarmatian barracks. Smiling broadly, she gestured to her other weapons, all still arranged neatly about her person.

"Shall this be a proper fight, or more of a test of each weapon?" she asked after a moment, choosing her words carefully.

"Let's just test your sword work for now," Tristan said warily. She looked far too… calm about this. No, 'calm' wasn't the right word. 'Proactive'?

Keen.

That was it. And Tristan loathed keen beginners. They were dangerous, because you never knew what they'd do.

But without a word, Kation stripped off her long dirks and placed them neatly in a corner with her outer cape-like tunic on top, to hide them from prying eyes. Now her spare frame was revealed, Tristan wondered if she had any fighting muscles at all. Or maybe it was just the way she stood, feet too close together, shoulders slightly hunched, makhaira hanging low at her side, the blade resting against her leg as she watched him steadily.

It was a stance that begged to be corrected. Good thing Tristan was such a merciless sparring partner.

He drew his own sword in one smooth movement and brought it around in a slow arc of readiness, holding it out in front of him. His feet moved without thinking, sliding into a stronger stance as he waited for Kation to bring the fight to him. No need to rush in and miss anything.

Then again… Kat's eyes seemed darker, somehow.

"Hey, what's this?"

Lancelot, carrying a chair, preceded Dagonet and Kahedin who walked slowly towards them. Clearly their resident healer (read: mother hen) had decided that Kahedin could do with some relaxing fresh air.

"Sparring practise by the look of it," Dagonet said, smiling slightly at Tristan. "Training your slave to follow you into battle, huh?"

"Something like that," Tristan replied evenly, keeping an eye on Kat to make sure she didn't pull a fast one on him.

"Had much practise, boy?" Lancelot said, and after setting down the chair for Kahedin, he leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. His smirk was condescending to say the least. Tristan knew that Kat had a few tricks up her sleeve, but suddenly he wanted her to wipe that look of Lancelot's face in a very thorough match.

Kation shrugged. "Some," she said. "Children have been going to war for centuries, after all."

"Oho, been in battle then?" Kahedin said, joining in the teasing.

"Once or twice."

"Bet you pissed yourself."

Kation looked disgusted. "You'll never know," she replied frostily.

Tristan was really starting to resent the audience's participation. "Unless you want to spar too, I suggest you butt out," he growled at them, inwardly seething at their amused expressions. But when his eyes snapped back to Kation, he was pleased to see that her features had been schooled into a mask of blank intent. Yet as he edged closer, Tristan began to feel the first twinges of uncertainty. Kation hadn't said anything or made any move to correct her stance.

"Are you taking this seriously, boy? Do something about your feet!" Lancelot called, only to be hushed by Kahedin.

Kation continued to stare at Tristan, shuffling so that she was standing squarely. But otherwise she hadn't done anything to indicate readiness. Finally, after a long moment, she spoke softly. "Do you want me to take this seriously, or is this just swordplay?"

"Call it a test of ability," Tristan said reasonably. "Try to land a hit on me. Anywhere you like." He was confident he could block it, and teach her something in the process.

~oOo~

In light of her suprising...skills that night, Kahedin watched closely.

After another moment's hesitation, Tristan nodded and closed the gap between them with his usual darting steps, doubtlessly preparing to catch a wild swing with the back of his blade rather than slice her open in one of those twisting moves of his that simultaneously parried and eviscerated his opponents.

None of them could have anticipated what happened next. There was, after all, no warning.

One minute Kation was standing there looking like she wished she was back in Arthur's office, and the next moment she had crossed the space between them in a blur of movement. Tristan, to his credit, didn't panic but side-stepped as she closed on him.

Amazingly Kat anticipated the move and mirrored Tristan's action. Darting to the outside, she came up behind him and kicked the back of his right knee, forcing Tristan's leg to fold even as she grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back and down with her. Instinctively trying to regain his balance, Tristan twisted sharply, relinquishing his two-handed grip on his sword and throwing his left arm out to try steadying himself. But Kation was still turning and her swordflashed down in a deadly arc. For one wild moment, Kahedin could have sworn she was trying to cut Tristan's hand off, but the steel tip hammered down at the point where the guard met the blade and the force of the blow knocked the sword from his hand.

And just like that it was over.

Kation hadn't needed to land a hit on him, or even make a show of it—she had made her point. In another second she had let go of her grip on his shoulder and stepped away, face pale but perfectly composed.

"What was that?!" Lancelot screamed incredulously. "That wasn't swordplay!"

No it was not. There had been nothing 'playful' about that. Brief, practical and totally without any form or showmanship. That made it unbearably stylish in its brutality.

Tristan was clearly not happy as he snatched up his sword and turned to glare awfully at Kation, who was looking awkward again. She was actually cringing slightly under his stare. But in the tense silence that followed, he actually nodded. "Good job. Your opponents will always have the advantage of strength and weight."

Now even Kahedin was forced to gawp a little with the others as they stared at the pair. Kation's tiny smile said it all.

"Good gods," Dagonet mumbled in an undertone. "Now there's two of them."

No need to explain that.

Lancelot was shaking his head slowly. "I always knew the boy was wrong in the head," he muttered, pushing a hand through his curls distractedly. "So wrong in the head…" he turned an accusing look on Kahedin. "Did you know about this?"

"No," Kahedin answered. "I've seen Kat throw a knife and climb like a squirrel, but this is new to me." It was true too—while he had known Kation's killer instincts and reflexes he had no idea she could handle a sword so well, even if it was just a little one.

Lancelot shook his head. "All this time, and no one knew. The boy's too fast. Did you see his feet? Unreal. And against Tristan."

The scout was whispering to Kation at a distance from the rest of them, so Kahedin could only guess at what they were saying. But since Tristan actually seemed pleased perhaps he had taken exception to Lancelot's teasing and was glad that Kation had proved that over-confident, womanising git wrong.

"Again?" she asked Tristan. They both looked insanely happy… No, there were other, more accurate ways of describing their expressions: usually so blank-faced, their eyes were glittering brightly as small, confident smiles had etched themselves onto their faces. It was extremely sinister.

Tristan was nodding and that smile grew a little. Kahedin could see how well suited they were. He could actually read genuine affection in Tristan's gaze. And since they were both good people… mostly… or rather, they tried hard to do the right thing as they saw it, he could see how they found comfort in each other's' company.

Kahedin caught half a muttered sentence from Kation before they launched themselves at each other again, blades flashing and feet dancing across the hard-packed earth. The clash of steel rang through the air as they did their damndest to slice each other open. While Tristan had power and force, Kation had that terrifying speed and agility, meaning that both were constantly tested by the need to react in a way that was outside of their comfort zone. Then Kat spun away, leading Tristan further out, her eyes blazing and her mouth set in a hard line of concentration. Tristan bore down on her like the proverbial storm, but Kation kept her head and continued to dodge, refusing to be drawn into tests of strength and instead dancing around him, bouncing constantly on her toes and making it impossible for the scout to predict which way she would leap.

"What is going on here?" Gawain gasped. His voice was near a shout, but since the two combatants were too enthralled in their dance of near-evisceration, they didn't even spare their audience a glance.

"They're sparring." Dagonet said, looking resigned and unhappy. He always hated to see youngsters fighting.

"This is absurd, Kat will be beaten to within an inch of his life!" Gawain went on, trying to move forward, but Lancelot wisely caught his arm and held him back.

"I'd think twice," he said softly. "Those two are enjoying themselves and won't appreciate the interruption."

"She's having fun?" Gawain hissed, astonished and appalled as they watched the two continue their

"She said something about a 'super-awesome time'," Kahedin muttered, shaking his head. In another moment, Tristan had succeeded in landing a hammer-like blow to Kation's lower back with the flat of his blade. She staggered, then went into a roll, twisting round as she did so. Something flashed in her hand and Tristan froze, his sword checked in its overhead swing at Kation. In the momentary tableau they saw the small throwing knife in the girl's hand, ready to be hurled at Tristan if he intended to complete that blow.

And then she sprang onto her feet, tucking the knife away smoothly in the back of her wide belt and putting her sword away in its scabbard. "Fun!" She said cheerfully, slightly out of breath from all the exertion and ignoring the abject stares from everyone else. This extraordinary behaviour had better not become the norm, or the knights might start to walk in dread of 'Tristan's shadow'.