15 The Words of Hands

Two more weeks went by. I wasn't brought to another meal with him. Every day when the weather was suitable I was taken outside to train in archery, sword work, and hand to hand combat. The hand to hand combat came after the guards could trust that I would not kill them on sight. I still could, but retrained for obvious reasons.

One mid summer day I was brought out to the usual location. This time it was the Master who stood before me. My heart was not as full of rage as it had been the first few weeks. However, I wouldn't let that soften my blow as we started a fencing round. He did not attempt to tell me anything this time. At first I thought he had given up trying to get me to speak.

After the second round he motioned our weapons away and turned to hand to hand. That was where I could truly try to sense his strength. It was all it appeared to be; cold, powerful, and hard. But it was one more thing, or lack there of - no hate or violence. That was enough to surprise me. He had captured me and who knows how many before me. What was his drive then?

As we combatted I began to feel a sort of communication through our strikes. It seemed he wanted to convey a purpose outside of strength and skill. My face never moved but I began to try to express something back, what I had yet to form.