Curselock

Chapter 48: Adaptation

“Conjuration, who’d have thought?”

Glenny spun at the words, bubbly red power reacting to his will and forming a pair of spikes. He shoved the impromptu weapon forward, finding it abruptly stopped inches from the Huntress’ throat.

“Angry little one, aren’t we?” she asked. “But I can see you are coming into that power all on your own. A few more days and I might let you leave the mountain.”

It was mid-morning in the cold snow forest of the north mountains, the sun was high above and not a cloud was left in the sky. Under normal conditions, Glenny would have called it a perfect morning. But, since he was out in the wilderness under duress, he couldn’t find the beauty in it.

“’Days,’” he repeated. “No. I’ve played your game long enough, take me back.”

Isobel raised an eyebrow. “Confident are we? Only took you beating an inner demon.”

“You said I had to adapt. Well, here I am, adapted. I killed the basilisk days ago. It’s time to go back. So, if you don’t mind, my friends are waiting.” Glenny strolled off, his star peppered ebony cloak flapping with the cold wind.

A sigh escaped Isobel’s lips. “There’s a faster way down the mountain than walking. Not to mention you’d have to charter a boat and find your way across two continents to get back to Shoutwell.”

Glenny froze. “What did you just say?”

“I’m saying that you are half-a-world away from your friends. And, I have a teleporting artifact. We can be back in Shoutwell within minutes. So, you better humor me unless you want to walk all the way back.”

“Fine,” he seethed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Oh nothing much,” she said, oozing sarcasm. “Just test your limits, battle me.”

Glenny blinked a few times then thrust his red spikes at the Huntress’ throat. She easily backstepped, parrying his dominant wrist with her own before smacking him in the chest with an open palm.

“Rather weak, I’d say. Not much style in your movements. Only stab, stab, stab. That’s not going to get you very far.”

Glenny grumbled something, taking a step back and setting his feet. His posture lowered along with his center of gravity. Suddenly he shot off, turning into a whirlwind of deadly red power. His hands moved regardless of his conjured weapons, each taking new positions in his fighting style. The effect was a hail of blades and fists, each attacking independent of one another.

The Huntress smiled at the attempt, but ultimately dodged or blocked all of his attacks. “Interesting idea,” she said. “A few years of practicing that and you might have something worthy of pursuing. As it is now? Not so much. Nothing is deadly enough, your concentration is too split.”

“I’ve just got to adapt, right?” Glenny said with a glare.

Isobel frowned. “Did you learn nothing?”

“You didn’t really teach anything. Just threw me on a mountain and expected me to progress.”

She thought for a second. “Maybe you’re right. You succeeded in the instinctual portion of your Legacy, I suppose I might as well help you with the practical. Let's start with what your parents taught you. Nothing special, no extra appendages of power – just daggers.”

Glenny shrugged and stubbornly controlled the power of the Sightless King into his hands. The bubbles boiled over his back and chest, finding his grip and morphing into a mess of red.

“Huh?” the Huntress asked. “What is that?”

“I-I’m not sure. It doesn’t want to move to my will. It feels like it's only doing so because it doesn’t have a choice, not because it listens to me.”

“Interesting,” was all she said before taking out a pair of small knives from her boots. She tossed them over. “Just use those for the moment.”

Glenny begrudgingly picked up the weapons, shifting them into his hands with practiced ease while the red bubbles dissipated. He fell into the stance of moments ago, suddenly thrusting forward into an offensive push. The knives were much smaller than he was used to, so he focused on his footwork more than anything.

Each step, each shuffle, each hasted pivot, Glenny fell into a rhythm battling against the Huntress. As the minutes ticked by, he found openings and clear points of attack. He felt sure his opponent was toying with him, but he pressed the advantage anyway.

Attack with one hand and the opposite foot, backstep and switch focus. Jump around her blind spot, while feigning a low kick. Block the counter attack, and counter back.

Suddenly an open palm cracked against his nose, causing the snowy floor to be dyed red. Glenny glared at her despite the small red vial she passed him.

“Impressive stamina. You didn’t slow down until the forty minute mark. But we have the cloak to thank for that.”

“F-forty minutes?” Glenny said, finding himself breathing heavy. When did that happen?

The Huntress didn’t respond, only pointed up. The sun was high overhead, a stark contrast to the morning air from when they started sparing.

“Still, that fighting style is weak. I’m surprised your parents taught you like that. I figured your mother especially would have been more keen on you learning something worthwhile.”

The forest went silent. “What did you say?”

She shrugged. “Dueling you was eye opening. Think about it. Your mother was a renowned Royal Inquisitor and she was killed by some half-baked murderer. The only explanation is that her fighting style was weak, don’t you—”

A red spike appeared in Glenny’s hand and launched forward. The Huntress’ eyes widened from the sudden attack but she easily caught the conjured weapon with an empty hand.

“Like I was saying,” she continued. “I think it is best you learn something else—"

A bubble formed and drilled from Glenny’s other hand. She casually moved to intercept it, lazily throwing up her free hand. Suddenly the spike extended, rushing past her slow defenses and catching her in the breastplate.

The attack didn’t so much as scratch her, but it did open her defenses enough for Glenny to capitalize. The bubbles reacted to his command and formed gently along the twin knives he carried. Red power stuck to metal, elongating the blades into small sabers.

Throwing caution to the wind, Glenny pounced. He threw all of his strength and speed into his attacks, acting more like a berserker than a rogue. The Huntress acted in kind, summoning forth a single arrow she wielded like a greatsword.

“How dare you—” Glenny yelped between attacks. “She was not weak!”

The Huntress crossed his thigh with two quick swipes, shredding clothes and shearing into his skin. Glenny roared, ignoring the injury and pressing his sabers harder. Another line of blood was formed along his left wrist and a third on his right forearm. Pain shot through his knuckles as each were quickly butchered as well.

Glenny went low, sweeping his leg. The Huntress easily vaulted over him, landing another quick cut along the back of his neck. He turned, finding an arrow tip between his eyes.

“I think this is a good stopping point, don’t you ?” she said, catching a wild swing from her right.

She punched him in the throat, sending him to the snow. “Look kid, look at yourself. I’ve killed you several times over. You lost and you cannot win.”

Glenny didn’t care and forced more red bubbles to his side. Isobel sighed and activated a Legacy ability. Suddenly there was a flash of light and she disappeared.

“Interesting parasitic item you’ve got here,” she said from behind, casually slipping the cloak on. “Shame it binds to one’s soul. I might have stolen it from you once we found it wasn’t cursed.”

Sneering, Glenny suddenly felt his energy bottom out.

“Oh? Poor little boy finally ran out of juice?” she laughed. “Like I said, I think this is a good stopping point.”

“T-take it back!” he yelled.

“Hmm?”

“You called my mother weak! She was a comrade of yours! How can you say that about—”

The Huntress raised a hand, silencing him. “Can you not see I said that to rile you up? The Sightless King power obviously works from emotions, and obviously I lied. No one would be able to reach Royal Inquisitor status if they weren’t powerful.”

Glenny stared at her, his poster deflating somewhat. “You said—”

“Read my lips,” Isobel said slowly. “I. Lied. To. Rile. You. Up. Well, not about leaving her fighting style. It's only going to get you so far, especially with conjuration in your armory.”

“I would I have to change—”

“Because you are too tall. I’ve met your mother several times and you definitely have your dad’s height. And I imagine you are still growing.” She pointed to the two knives sitting in the snow. “Just look at what you did to attack me with the Sightless King power. You extended the knives. Your body knows you need longer weapons, just your head doesn’t.”

“But—” Glenny tried.

“You can stick with daggers if that is what you are wondering. Just longer ones. Those sabers you created were good. Maybe a bit shorter would be more optimal, actually.”

“I don’t—”

The Huntress rolled her eyes. “Kid, shut up. You’re supposed to be the quiet one. Just sit there and let me think. When we leave this mountain, you will have a full training regimen to go off of.”

Glenny snapped his mouth closed and fell back.

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