3: Black Blades
“After two years in Basawar, he had grown used to the thin air and the hungry quality of the soil and stones. It felt comfortable to him. The wet earth moved beneath him, curling around his heels and squeezing between his toes. Pools of yesterday’s rain had turned the sparring ground into a wallow. As he moved, the mud slithered and squelched beneath him, but he didn’t feel as if he was slipping. Instead, it seemed that the soil accommodated him, shifting and folding to support him.
The prie...st opposite him charged. John swung to the side. Mud squelched beneath both their feet. John caught the other man’s arm in a loose grip, and with the slightest nudge, threw him off balance. The priest flailed out, attempting to catch John and pull him down with him. John stepped back and the priest tumbled down into the mud.
From the sidelines, John heard Samsango’s laugh. The old priest sat with several other ancient priests, watching the battle practice and quietly making wagers.MoreLess
The prie...st opposite him charged. John swung to the side. Mud squelched beneath both their feet. John caught the other man’s arm in a loose grip, and with the slightest nudge, threw him off balance. The priest flailed out, attempting to catch John and pull him down with him. John stepped back and the priest tumbled down into the mud.
From the sidelines, John heard Samsango’s laugh. The old priest sat with several other ancient priests, watching the battle practice and quietly making wagers.MoreLess
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