Fierce

WAYNE’S POV

            “What, you think you would just sit around and keep your blunt eyes open to watch events go by in the Tower?” Phyllis' voice imparted such a callous aura that I had a feeling I would cry if I were a child. She leaned on the doorsill and ran her eyes around my room while I blinked blankly at the woman who was apparently careless of my bearing.

 

             I turned away as five thick fingers raked through my hair before I found myself pacing the room in no time, yearning for succor. The toil of the morn had left me spent to an extent that I only craved for some time to rest. I was sure that Phyllis might think that it took little or no energy to walk through so many fleets of stairs in a single morning, but to me it was more than draining. However, the indomitable sight of her stilted pose was a clear proof that she was never going to let me have things my own way, at least not now.

 

            “How― how about this…?” I began tentatively as I stopped my stride to face the witch again. She raised a brow. “…You give me some time to find my limbs. I will send Elspeth to inform you when I am ready.”

 

            Phyllis narrowed her eyes, her head cocking to the side as an amusing, yet non-contagious, smile formed across her lips. I found myself pausing with trepidation, awaiting her response. Still, just as I had thought, nature was never smiling at me.

 

             “Just follow me. Immediately,” was the scathing order before she quickly turned away, giving me no room to express my further displeasure.

 

            I stood dumbfounded as I watched her rush through the door like troubled sepia foliage, and thereafter the door banged crudely to my ears, driving down a frisson that coursed through my very bones as I scratched hard on my poor beard. Even so, after a trifling thought, I decided to find my way out of the room. It was not as if I had the choice to stay back after all.

 

            Phyllis was leaning against the wall by the corridor, her hands crossed on her chest and her eyes considering her feet. When the sound of my closing door echoed, she looked up and began walking towards the path that faced the one to the stairway. I trotted and caught up with her brisk paces, not minding where she took me.

 

            “You never told me there were a few of those breathtaking creatures with sophisticated figures in the Tower.”

 

            “What?”

 

            I forced a grin, “The Firnes. I met one today and honestly…” my voice trailed off when Phyllis’ eyes shot to my direction, causing me to shrug and raise a brow. “Honestly, they are not as you coated. I actually find them more interesting.”

 

            “And that is because you wholly prefer a pair of slick hands skimming into your boxers to seeing the actual danger in it,” the witch seemed to state the obvious, discourteously, and I found myself matching her words to that of Damien.

 

             I shook my head and moved my lips to speak, but then Phyllis beat me to it when she stopped and faced me head-on, her surly gaze contradicting the pleasant mood of the day. Oh well. “If you still attach a shred of value to your existence, then stay away from the likes of those beings. You would never like it when they show you their dark sides.”

 

            I shrugged and let it go. It was not worth contending over things that could not help me anyway. Moreover, I was beginning to gather that this path appeared to lead to the end of the floor, as we had now curved to an edged path that took us all the way to a staircase situated at the flanks of the Tower.

 

            We slowly got down the stairs, not rushing regardless of its length. It must have been up to a minute or even more before we finally got to the very last floor. By then, my legs were both done for and my knees ached. I tried to disregard the throbbing.   

                                               

            The environment that carried the Tower was undeniably ample. I looked about to appreciate the elaborated sight around me; the Fir trees that gave the surrounding a tranquil temperature, the feathered friends echoing their chirping songs and perching lightly on branches, only for our presence to startle them and cause a rain of dried leaves to litter the ground and serve as crusty rugs for us to tread on.

 

            I also ought to mention the colored sparkling flowers that had butterflies lingering over it, and then the almost unnoticeable drainage, not actually peculiar, that made me realize this was the backyard of the Tower. Walking forward was a verdant, wide-ranging field that matched the plain sky and bright blue horizon. Overall, everything smelled like a nature-wonder spirit to me, yet I felt incomplete without the noise and visibility of the sea.

 

            Phyllis stopped when we reached the field and I did the same behind her. “Do you know a tad about fighting? Um… with swords… tools?” she queried without looking back at me. I honestly knew more about fighting with daggers; and, yes, I knew a bit about tool-fight. However, swordsmanship was not my expertise.

 

            “I do,” I simply rejoined.

 

            The witch turned to face me, reaching forth to snatch the sword from my hold. She unsheathed it and scrutinized its blade. “Then what should be your areas of concentration during a fight?” I cringed at the question… and more when she absently sucked on her lower lip.

 

            From what I understood, I was here to learn my natural ability - so I did not understand how the topic Phyllis lingered on, concerned me. I could not take that. I huffed, “how does this matter, I thought I should be learning how to shape shift?” My displeasure was discernible in the tone of my voice.

 

            Still, the witch’s lips twitched to a side as she tapered her eyes on my stretching fingers. She vehemently put the sword back into its scabbard and tossed it to me, catching me unaware. Thankfully, I was fortunate.

 

            “Who told you that shape-shifting is as laidback as how you perceive it?” Phyllis asked. I took a step back and watched her stoop to pick two twigs; she used a twig to pull two horizontal lines as she spoke, “Shape shifting is really agonizing. Before you learn to transform, you should make sure you have sufficient power to bear the turmoil it brings to you later on.” She stands straight, “Unless I see that you are ready, I would not allow you to transform. So you have no choice but to use the sword to defend yourself, as I would not be there to do that all the time.”

 

            I brought my head down at Phyllis’ words. For a moment, I felt a likeness between her and Damien because I did not see why they always loved finding an opportunity to hint that I was nothing but a weak coward.

 

             Nonetheless, what she did before me were not two lines, I might have been hallucinating to think they were. She had actually pinned half parts of the two twigs into the ground, matching the twigs would form a long and slant vertical line.

 

            “I will ask again. What are your areas of concentration in a fight?”

           

            I did not need to rack my brain for the answer, “The mind and the body.”

 

            “Give me answers for the body precisely.”

 

            I rolled my eyes away, “Legs, hands and back posture.” Aye, all these mattered, but I had the feeling that I failed to mention something. Well, I must honestly admit that I was not a guru in tool fighting either. I had learnt some meager moves from Lucerne and I do not think those were going to take me anywhere. Now I was beginning to regret why I focused most of my attention on helping out the servants with their work when I noticed that shape-shift was a vain move. I felt no need to expertize any means of protection then, as we grew up to believe that the Shore was very safe and no danger was en route for us. Oh well.

 

            “You must know that there are numerous martial arts in the world,” Phyllis uttered leisurely, taking a few steps forward to me. “You practice the daggers-friendly art called agility-waves in the Shore, which is like the lowest and most impotent martial art I have ever known…” I flicked my eyes to the witch. “…However, the Fire-pall Pack practices an art that was adopted from the effective skills of the Firnes. It is regarded as a topnotch martial art and is known as Riprim―”

 

            “What sort of a name is that?” I grumbled.

 

            “I will teach you the basic steps of Riprim, now watch me as I demonstrate it.” I perceived a familiar scent just as Phyllis finished her sentence, along with slow-paced footsteps coming from behind me.