Ashlynn rose from the sofa and took up the practice sword, settling into the opening stance that Thane had drilled into her body over months of brutal repetition. Her weight was balanced on the balls of her feet, her blade held at a slight angle across her center line, and her free hand was positioned to guard or grab as the moment demanded.
Across from her, Nyrielle held her own blade with a looseness that would have looked careless to an untrained eye. But Ashlynn had sparred with Thane and Sybyll, and she recognized the deceptive economy of a fighter who could explode into motion from any position.
"The Lothian method of fighting is the product of a century spent fighting against the forces of the Vale, Airgead Mountain, and the Southern Steppe," Nyrielle began, circling slowly. Her bare feet whispered against the dream-grass, and the moonlight caught the edge of her blade as she moved.
