Annev frowned. ‘It can’t be my dominant hand – I train more with my right.’
Sodar shrugged. ‘You’re competent with both hands – ambidextrous even – but I think you naturally favour your left hand.’ He walked back to the weapons rack, replaced the longsword and took up a short spear.
‘Now, a shield can be used to attack – and much more reliably than an axe can defend. In fact, it was once my preferred weapon – long ago, in another time and place.’
There’s my chance, Annev thought, scooping up his axe. I just need to ask the right question. Something innocuous …
‘Your shield. Is that the one I saw you polishing last winter?’
‘The same.’
‘What was its name?’
Sodar smiled. ‘Toothbreaker.’
There, Annev thought. Now keep him talking.
‘It’s just a notched heater shield, though. You can’t hurt someone with that – not like you can with an axe.’
‘It’s more like a modified vambrace, and technically you can.’ The priest rubbed his forearm in memory. ‘When my quarterstaff was broken or my shortsword lost, I waded through many battles with just Toothbreaker to keep me alive.’
‘How? And why did you name it Toothbreaker?’
Sodar thrust his spear into the ground and leaned on its haft. ‘You remember how the shield looked?’ Annev nodded. ‘The notches cut into the front of the shield – to either side of the wrist, adjacent to the spikes – could catch a falling sword. If I twisted my forearm just right, it could disarm whoever I was fighting. A few times, I even snapped their sword in two.’
‘So … Toothbreaker,’ Annev said.
Sodar nodded. ‘The spikes on the front were offensive as well as defensive. Catch a blade or punch a man in the gut. The spikes at the bottom were ideal for elbowing soldiers who tried to attack from behind. It was still more effective with a shortsword, though, since I carried Toothbreaker in my off-hand.’
‘When did you get it – and who taught you to fight with it?’
‘It was given to me a long, long time ago.’ Sodar pulled the spear from the ground, took a step backward, and spun the weapon in his hands. ‘And I’ve learned from many – soldiers, men-at-arms, priests.’ He swung at Annev, spearhead leading.
Annev jumped back, easily dodging the attack. ‘What about the merchant who took you from your village?’
‘I don’t recall his name,’ Sodar said, taking another swing with the butt-end of his spear. ‘People called him something different in every town. I doubt I ever knew his real identity.’
I know the feeling, Annev thought, dodging another attack and countering with one of his own.
‘You learned to fight on the road, though?’
Sodar shrugged. ‘I learned on the streets.’ He tapped his spear against the flat side of Annev’s shortsword, searching for an opening. ‘I learned more from the men guarding the merchant’s caravan – sword patterns, footwork. Shoddy stuff, really, but it gave me a foundation.’ He lunged. Annev parried, having anticipated the attack, then followed up with his own strike, nearly scoring a hit on the priest’s knee.
‘Close.’
Annev nodded, weapons still extended. ‘So who taught you the spear?’
Sodar shrugged and began to circle. ‘I trained with the staff when I joined the priesthood. They’re closely related.’
Annev gritted his teeth, unsurprised by the answer – all Darite priests were supposed to train with the staff, but Annev had hoped for something more.
‘Who was your favourite teacher? Who mentored you?’
Instead of answering, the priest whirled the spear around his body, dropped into a squat and kicked at Annev’s legs. Annev jumped, crossed his weapons in front of him, and landed lightly on his feet.
As Sodar rose up to meet him, Annev slashed down and across with both weapons. The priest countered by rattling his spear between the axe and shortsword, preventing Annev from engaging. He parried the axe blow and crashed the butt of his spear into Annev’s sternum. The boy reeled back, gasping for breath, and cast his weapons to the ground.
‘How do you do that?’
‘Do what?’ Sodar stood straight.
‘How do you move so fast?’ He paused, frowning. ‘Do you use magic when we fight?’
Sodar huffed. ‘Of course not. That would be cheating.’
Annev raised an eyebrow, unconvinced the priest was being honest. Instead of expressing his doubts, though, he snatched Sodar’s spear and tossed it against the wall.
‘You’re going to fight me with a weapon you haven’t mastered.’
Sodar laughed. ‘Who’s training whom?’
‘Will you do it?’
The priest shrugged. ‘Pick your poison. I know every weapon in this woodshed.’
‘Great,’ Annev said. ‘Go grab the wallowpike.’
‘The wallowpike?’ Sodar snorted. ‘I made that for demonstrations, not sparring.’
‘Go and get it,’ Annev said, unflinching.
Sodar bristled. ‘It’s a weapon for heavy cavalry. The pole alone weighs as much as you.’
‘So you won’t spar against me unless you’ve mastered the weapon first? That doesn’t seem fair.’
Sodar rolled his eyes, muttered something about birthday presents, then marched to the end of the shed where the pikes and polearms were stored. He pulled out an eight-foot pole with a heavy wooden wedge at one end – the longest and heaviest in the stack.
‘You know,’ Sodar said, hefting the weapon in both hands, ‘when footmen had to use this against rows of heavy cavalry, two men carried it.’
‘I know,’ Annev said. ‘You also said it was awkward to wield and almost impossible to use more than once. That’s why it was replaced with the wallowsling.’
‘And that’s why you picked it.’
‘And that’s why I picked it.’
Sodar nodded, firming his grip on the pike as he found its centre of balance. ‘All right. You have a good memory. Now let’s see if you have good reflexes, too.’
The priest advanced before Annev could collect his weapons, and swung the unwieldy polearm at his student’s head. Annev jumped forward, diving beneath the heavy wedge as it smashed into the ground. With a roll and a twist, he snatched up the axe and shortsword as he came to his feet.
‘Not fast enough, old man!’
With a roar, Sodar braced the butt of the polearm against his foot and lifted its heavy wedge off the ground. Poised between the priest and the acolyte, the faux axe-head kept Annev at bay before swinging back towards him, this time aimed at his left hip. Annev threw his weight against the eight-foot wallowpike and rolled over it.
Anticipating the move, Sodar was already swinging the polearm in an upward arc, circling back towards Annev just as the boy rose to his feet.