Practice fight scene 02 – Bamboo training school

Shirrin was cleaning the stone plinth where Master Quo would sit to observe his students. It was good discipline. Every stroke of her scrubbing brush was precise and controlled. Cold water hardened the skin; repetition trained the muscles; but it was hard on the knees even with the little mat she took everywhere, and there was little to be gained from an hour inhaling the acrid smell of sea soap.

Glancing up she saw Jayme sweeping the flagstones, her eyes glazed over. She’d barely started preparing the square for this afternoon’s sessions and seemed in no hurry to make up for lost time. Shirrin thought about calling out to the younger woman, to remind her to use the activity as an exercise but if they were overheard it might raise eyebrows. Making a mental note to reprimand her it later Shirrin refocused on her task.

The great wooden gates of the training ground burst open with a crack and Ogum burst through, blood spattered across his cotton trousers and torn shirt. He fled to the centre of the square and turned, fear in his eyes, mouth gaping.

“Senior Cadet Ogum!” Jayme called out, but if she had a question it was interrupted by the appearance of three men. Warriors. Dressed in the blue and yellow of the Queen’s Guard, scimitars sheathed at their hips. They did not run, they sauntered.

The smallest of the three grinned and made a great show of looking around the training ground. The balconies, the pillars lining the edges of the square, the master’s chair. He even glanced at the two servants, if only for a moment.

“So. This is the Bamboo School.” His smile turned to a sneer. “It’s not much is it?”

Ogum pointed a shaking hand at the three. “You killed Ku! You killed Sonn!”

Shirrin glided to her feet and calmly picked up the water bucket. Jayme stood at the ready, eyes ablaze and broom held before her like a staff. Shirrin kept her hands low but gestured to her daughter to lower the broom. Keep cool.

The Queen’s Guards strode forward, surrounding Ogum on three sides, hands resting on the pommels of their scimitars.

“What if we did,” the small man asked. “If they were the best Bamboo had to offer then,” he paused, taking another exaggerated look around, then shrugged leaving his thought unfinished.

Ogum was unarmed and bloodied but he was in a rage, his whole body shaking. “It was murder. That counts for something. The law…”

“The Queen’s Law,” the small man interrupted. Ogum lowered his hand, speechless.

The warrior standing behind Ogum drew his weapon. Jayme gasped but only Shirrin noticed the sound, darting her a disapproving look. Shirrin twitched her head, an instruction for her daughter to leave, to fetch Master Quo. Jayme paid no attention, calling out to Ogum to watch himself.

Ogum spun around and took up Number One Fighting Pose, a long stance, hands open but at the ready. The warrior tilted his head to one side and raised his scimitar before him, its blade catching the sunlight, his fine clothes a festive dash of colour that mocked the occasion.

His companions stood motionless.

The warrior launched himself forwards with a shout. Within a second he was within striking range. Ogum twisted his whole body, spinning a wild kick into the man’s sword arm, sending the weapon flying and the warrior into retreat. The scimitar skittered across the flagstones to rest directly at Shirrin’s feet. She ignored her daughter’s hopeful glance and kept both hands tight on her bucket.

Ogum held his ground and made no move to advance on the now disarmed Queen’s Guard who stepped back, clutching his arm. The smallest of the three drew his weapon and coughed. “Try me next.” His voice was almost a whisper but Ogum turned to face him, knowing precisely what it meant.

The man held his scimitar to the side and took a few cautious steps forward, halving the distance between them, taking him just out of reach of the Senior Cadet. Ogum took up Number Seven Fighting Pose, feet closer together, body facing his opponent square on.

The Queen’s Guard looked him up and down. “No. I think not.”

Ogum slowly shifted his stance. Number Four Fighting Pose. Facing side on, fists ready, feet further apart. For a moment his concentration slipped, glancing to the side to see if the others were moving on him. They were not, but his opponent to the front dashed forwards silently, except for the light scuff of his slippers on the flagstones.

Caught off guard Ogum danced out of the way of two slashes, three, four, dodging to the side and back but relentlessly pursued by the armed man. Ogum launched a kick at the Queen’s Guard who stepped aside, slashed at Ogum’s leg, missing, but then sweeping around with a cut that hacked deep into Ogum’s ribs. The Senior Cadet called out in fear, staggering to the side, but the warrior hacked again and again, Ogum now unable to dodge.

The first blow had probably been enough. The third and fourth were the product of simple rage, the duel long over half a second ago. Ogum’s bloody body collapsed onto the stone.

Jayme dropped her broom, eyes flooding with tears, her hands coming to her mouth in a soundless wail. Her gaze was transfixed upon Ogum’s lifeless corpse. The three Queen’s Guards were very pleased with themselves. The first attacker came over to Shirrin and picked up his scimitar from her feet, not even giving her a glance.

Shirrin did not watch Ogum, her daughter, or the three Queen’s Guards. Her gaze was centred on the woman in black who, unnoticed until now, was standing silently in the gateway’s shadow, studying the scene as it unfolded.

Jayme ran to Ogum’s body, calling out his name, placing her hands upon him, kneeling on the stone, her skirts dipping in the blood. The guards joked with one another as they left, the woman in black side stepping to allowing the small man and then his companions to pass. None of them acknowledged her presence.

Shirrin’s gaze met the woman in black’s and they stood regarding one another. Shirrin with her bucket, the stranger in her shadows. For a long moment they stood there, each studying the other, Shirrin uneasy, so accustomed to the invisibility of being a servant. Her skin prickled with the chill of being seen by this half hidden presence.

Jayme sobbed. Shirrin broke the moment and looked to her daughter. The next instant  the woman in black was gone.