Lora smiled. “To be away would be to shirk my duty.”
Ember was puzzling over Barrow’s words, for one surely couldn’t spar alone. Lora’s eyes were on her, so Ember forced herself to smile at the girl.
“I doubt this match will offer much entertainment,” she said. “Barrow could probably beat me if he was blindfolded.”
Lora laughed, but Barrow shook his head. “You won’t be fighting me.”
Ember looked from him to the pale girl. “Am I fighting Lora?”
“I’m not a fighter,” Lora told her. “Just a simple cleric.”
“As if such a thing existed.” Barrow smiled at her and the back of Ember’s neck grew hot. When she spoke, a part of her knew it was only to interrupt their exchange.
“If I’m not fighting you or her, then who is my opponent?”
Barrow took a step back, making a deferring gesture to Lora. The slender girl bowed her head. Her palms rested against each other as if she were in prayer. Ember shifted on her feet. Was this part of their regular practice? Should she pray as well?
She glanced at Barrow, who wasn’t praying. He was still watching Lora. The heat on Ember’s neck prickled onto her scalp. She forced her eyes off them and onto the damp ground.
She drew a sharp breath and scampered backward.
The earth at the cleric’s bare feet was bubbling.
As Ember watched, the ground erupted. Earth stretched upward into a column taller than Lora. The mass of soil expanded and contracted, its shape changing as Lora maintained her contemplative pose. Limbs burst out of the block of earth. Arms and legs of mud snaked out of the lump. Hands with five fingers appeared. A neck. A head. But no face.
Lora raised her head and opened her eyes. The mud creature stood before her as if awaiting her command.
“That is your opponent,” Barrow said.
Ember gazed at the strange form. “What is it?”
“Simply a shape called forth from the earth to which I’ve temporarily lent part of my spirit,” Lora answered. “It has no name, for it is not a living thing. Not much more than a poppet for all intents and purposes.”
When Ember turned to Barrow, he said, “I said you would face horrors because of your calling, but you will also witness many wonders. This is the first.”
“And I am to fight it?” She looked at the mud man—if it could be called that. Its body was straight and lacked defining contours, giving no indication of sex.
Lora lifted her hand and the creature moved, its steps slightly halting. “It will engage with you when I command it. It will also learn from you. As your skill progresses, so will its abilities increase.”
“The earth creatures make fitting opponents when you first begin to fight, or later if you’re unable to find a sparring partner,” Barrow said.
The cool steel of Silence and Sorrow whispered to Ember as she slid them free of their leather covers.
“Let the blades speak to you,” Barrow murmured as Ember and the creature began to circle each other. “They were forged for you and you alone.”
The weight of the weapons in her hands was reassuring. Grasping the leather-wrapped handles felt oddly natural. The perfect circle and interior half circle of the blades shone in in the daylight. Their gleam was subtle, reflecting the sublime quality of moonbeams. The thought sent prickles up her arms as if the energy contained within the blades had seeped into her skin and now traveled through her veins.
She began to move tentatively, sweeping her arms back and forth to become accustomed to the wheels. With each motion the blades hummed through the air, singing their own silvery melody. The strange, alluring sound began to lead her body’s movements. As she flowed over the damp earth, Ember’s arms and legs took on the pattern of a dance that was both surprising and familiar. The mud creature mirrored her movements though it bore no weapons. Behind it, Ember noticed Lora and Barrow watching her, waiting.
Ember struck out with her left arm, bringing the blade up and across the creature’s chest. It feinted and the blade whistled through the air, missing its mark.
“Again,” Barrow commanded.
She jumped forward, this time bringing both wheels up and crisscrossing them in swift horizontal strokes. The blades struck, catching the creature where a man’s collarbone would have been and again at its stomach. Having no mouth, the mud thing didn’t cry out, but the evidence of her blows remained in the chunks of earth missing from its body.
Lora raised her arms and the creature threw itself at Ember. She dodged, twisting around, and struck its back with a series of rapid blade strokes.
With each exchange the creature became more aggressive, its lumbering movements transformed into quick steps that matched Ember’s dance-like combat. The fight continued, and Ember was surprised she didn’t tire. The longer she battled the mud creature, the more connected to her body and the blades she became.
Finding herself crouched low after the thing had knocked her with a painful kick to her stomach, Ember drew on the coil of energy in her chest when it raised its arms to rain down a blow on her bowed head.
Ember sprang up, flying at the creature. She drew the blades in a blindingly swift motion that followed her own path, rising from the ground and tearing through the air. The wheels came up one after the other, connecting with the creature’s upper arm and continuing without pause. Ember sailed past the mud man, hit the ground, and pivoted around, ready for its next strike.
The creature wasn’t moving. It stood facing her but didn’t strike.
A moment later Ember saw the reason for its—or Lora’s—hesitation.
Its arm lay on the ground beside it. Though the mud thing had no eyes, it turned its head to gaze at its severed appendage.
“Uh . . .” Ember glanced at Lora, who calmly picked up the arm and went to the mud creature. It stood still while she held the severed limb to the stump below its shoulder. Earth flowed, drawing the piece back into the body, and the creature was whole again.
Barrow coughed and Ember could hear his laughter beneath the sound. “A point of instruction.”
“Yes?” She didn’t want to turn her back on the mud thing. Though she doubted it had emotions, she still worried it would seek retribution for her slicing its arm off.
“Your blade is sharp enough to take off any limb,” he said. “But under combat conditions your adversary will have muscle and bone to contend with, which puts up much more resistance than clay.”