Mona Lisa Awakening m-1

by Sunny

"It's not just cut and slash, but an art," Chami lectured, as serious as any professor of academia once we were all assembled before him. Rosemary had been persuaded to join us as well, without too much protest. Tomas and Gryphon sprawled lazily on the sofa beside me, silent observers.

  "You will be going up against warriors who have had basic knife training, years of experience behind them, and greater strength. The only way you can hope to defeat them is by being better. You must go beyond basic techniques and become masters of the blade," Chami told his enthralled students. "Fortunately you have a rare master artist up to the task, and at your disposal."

  Chami ignored my impolite snort and began with the proper way of holding a dagger. It was review for the others but new and necessary information for Thaddeus. Rosemary, Tersa, and Jamie had their knives in hand. I bent down and took out my dagger, sliding it from its sheath where it had been concealed with handle downward for easy grasping, along the outside of my boot. I caught a look of surprise on Thaddeus's face. I shrugged as I passed him the blade to use. I went nowhere unarmed.

  "Holding your dagger properly is one of the most essential fundamentals," Chami admonished. "For an underhand strike you should grasp the hilt with your forefinger just slightly below the guard, squeezing firmly with your fingers, with the thumb across the forefinger overlapping onto the middle finger. Wrist firm, but not tense. If you hold it correctly, it will feel as if the blade is an extension of your hand."

  Chami demonstrated then had the others try.

  "Don't hold it too tightly," Chami instructed Tersa. "Much better," he said as she corrected her grip. "Too tightly and you lessen your flexibility and actually reduce your strength, but it must be tight enough so that your opponent cannot easily knock it out of your hand."

  Chami demonstrated the reverse grip for a downward strike. "Eventually, you'll be able to switch grips quickly," he said, flipping the knife in the air and catching it easily in a different grasp. He grinned and winked at the boys. "But don't try that just yet."

  When Chami was finally satisfied that they all knew how to hold their weapons correctly, they were ready to move to the next step. After some creative rummaging, we ended up securing two pillows in front of a wooden sled Thaddeus had dug out of the garage. The sled's metal rungs were padded with towels and propped securely against the massive stone hearth of the fireplace. The stones would be less likely than the walls to show signs of damage.

  "Are you certain you are willing to sacrifice these pillows?" Chami asked Thaddeus with mock solemnness, marker in hand.

  "It's for a good cause," Thaddeus replied blandly. His added aside, "Besides, I won't be using them," made Jamie snicker and Tersa actually giggle.

  At the go-ahead, Chami drew the outline of a man's chest, ribs, stomach, and neck on the pillow.

  "Where would you strike, Rosemary?"

  "'Over the heart?" she answered uncertainly.

  "Here?" Chami asked, pointing to the center of the chest.

  Rosemary nodded.

  "A good supposition but not correct. Can anyone tell me why not?"

  "Too many bones," Thaddeus said. "The sternum's right there and then there are the ribs."

  "Ah, very good, young master Thaddeus."

  Thaddeus flushed with pleasure at Chami's praise.

  Chami drew the outline of the sternum onto the pillow. "The sternum and ribs, the body's bony armor around its most crucial organs, the heart and lungs. But the lungs are not our primary target. Only striking the heart will possibly kill one of us, and only with a silver blade," he explained to Thaddeus. "Those who have the strength to break through the ribs to the heart should strike the left side where the major mass of the heart lies. Where would you suggest striking, Thaddeus, for those of us with lesser strength?"

  "Just below the sternum. Upward into the heart," was Thaddeus's thoughtful reply.

  "Correct," Chami said, pleased. He drew the outline of the heart over the sternum and marked the spot to enter. "Down here, where it is soft and unprotected, angled up forty-five degrees into the heart, just so." He demonstrated with the marker. "Then a quick sweep inside to the left and then right so that if you miss the heart, at least you'll sever the great vessels connected just below. That will put your opponent out of commission enough for you to either escape or finish the kill."

  Chami made them find the spot just below the sternal notch, first on themselves, then on a partner, pairing the two women together and Thaddeus up with Jamie.

  Jamie made a horrible gurgling sound and bent over as Thaddeus stabbed him with a finger. Rosemary exchanged a smiling look with her daughter that plainly said, Boys will be boys.

  "Having established that proper knife work is an art," Chami continued, "for practical purposes, we shall begin with the basic slash and stab. Slashing with your leading unarmed hand at your opponent's eyes, followed immediately by stabbing with the knife hand into his left side or, if you are able, up beneath the sternum. Angle your body. Feet shoulder-length apart, and knees bent like so, holding your knife close to your chest protectively so that it is hard to kick or grab." He demonstrated the stance.

  "Never lead with your knife hand and leave an open target out there for your enemy. That stupidity you will only see on TV where we want the bad guy—who always happens to be threatening the good guy with a knife, of course—to lose. No, the only time we extend the knife is when we are using it, otherwise it is held back protectively against your low chest.

  "The target for the open leading hand is your opponent's eyes. But it is not important that you actually strike the eyes—though that would be ideal—so much as you impair your opponent's vision in any way. Such as by throwing dirt into his eyes, a towel, or just thrusting your ringers toward the eyes and causing them to close in reflex. Practice going in hard, with full force. Lead hand strike. Knife hand thrust. Like so."

  Chami pounced into the pillow mannequin, fingers stabbing the eyes and thrusting the other hand with savage force into the left chest, again and again.

  They watched the impressive, lethal display with wide eyes, all sense of play sobered by the deadly reality of what they were learning.

  "Stab, remove. Stab, remove, for as many times as you can. Keep striking until your opponent is down. Then finish the kill by removing the heart or, far more easier, the head."

  Not exactly a pretty bedtime story, I thought, deliberately suppressing my guilt, but we lived now in a scary, deadly world.

  Amber and Aquila returned from their outside reconnaissance and settled down in the other sofa to watch with the rest of us as Chami took the others through their paces.

  "Harder," Chami told Rosemary. "Think of it like a frozen steak you have to stab through," he told the cook, and had her repeat the thrust-strike move until he was satisfied with the force of her lead and follow-up blows.

  Stuffing popped out from the stabbed pillows and was quickly repaired with masking tape, over and over again. If it was play, it was deadly, earnest play.

  When they were all comfortable with the maneuver, Chami had them sit and rest while he continued lecturing. "That was the face-to-face approach. A more ideal approach is from the back, which would be much better for you ladies. For us all, actually. It is easier to kill someone when you do not have to look into their eyes. Rear take-outs are taught all the time to soldiers.

  "The optimal entrance into the spinal cord is through the base of the skull. With a rear attack, you place your free hand down hard over your opponent's mouth or chin and pull down as you thrust the knife through to the front of the neck. Do not worry about him trying to bite him. Believe me, when your blade is slicing through him, biting you will be the last thing he thinks of."

  Chami turned to me. "Milady, if you will help me demonstrate." I went reluctantly forward to play his intended victim, not a task I would have volunteered for. Facing away from him, I waited for his move. Chami struck with a quickness and strength that was quite frightening, in truth. His hand was suddenly
there over my mouth and yanking me back as he thrust two fingers, simulating a knife, into the base of my skull. Sheesh, I'd have had no chance.

  Having demonstrated what he wanted, Chami had them pair up once more and practice the move first on themselves, using their fingers as he had done. Then, turning over the pillows and drawing a new rear target, he had them try it with real knives, taking great pains to ensure that they did not stab their own hands.

  More stuffing flew out.

  "He's good with them," Gryphon murmured to me.

  "That's because he's a child himself," I said, sotto voce.

  "I heard that," Chami said. "No appreciation."

  "You appreciate yourself enough for all of us," I retorted.

  "You wound me, my Queen."

  I snorted. "After that demonstration? Not likely."

  Chami finally called a halt to the practice. "Enough for today."

  "That was cool," Thaddeus said, handing me back my knife in the correct manner, blade pointing away from me.

  "Come on, Jamie," Thaddeus said, the two of them totally at ease with each other now. "Let's go surf the Internet. I want to check out how much a dagger like that costs and where I can one."

  "You're hooked up to the Internet? Awesome!" Jamie exclaimed, trailing up the stairs after Thaddeus like an eager puppy.

  Gryphon and Thomas left to make their rounds outside as Tersa and Rosemary went into the kitchen, chatting about what they had learned. Above it all, I felt the fullness of the moon calling, beckoning us. We could be answering its summons soon.

  Chami plopped himself down beside me. "Your turn."

  "Mine?"

  "Try calling your knives to your hand," Chami said softly.

  I stood up reluctantly, knowing he was right. Many of the things I had done had been in the heat of battle. Some, like channeling the energy through my hand and searing Miles's flesh, I doubted I could reproduce. Unless I was fighting, power and the use of power made me uncomfortable. Still, I needed to know if I could call my knife to me reliably, as I had called Mona Louisa's blade when she had tried to stab Gryphon.

  I concentrated. The silver dagger came easily to hand. Nothing happened, though, with my non-silver dagger.

  "How do you call the silver dagger?" Chami asked.

  "I think of silver. How it tastes, smells, feels in my hand."

  "Do the same with your other dagger."

  I brought the blade close to my nose, inhaled the faint metallic smell, stuck my tongue out and licked the blade, concentrated on the weight of the dagger, how it felt in my grasp. I resheathed it along the outside of my boot, and knelt down with my hand a foot away and concentrated.

  It came to my call.

  "Nice," Chami said. "Try it standing up."

  A more concentrated effort but still it came. I felt the force of it as it left my boot.

  Amber, who had remained with us, watching, handed me his forty-inch Great Sword. With my strength, the weight was not a problem so much as getting used to the feel and balance of the larger weapon. The smell was unique and the taste different from other metals—old, with the smell of ancient battle and spilt blood, as if it had absorbed some of its prey's pain and power.

  I laid the sword on the glass coffee table, stepped back, and called it. It flew to my hand like a deadly giant winged bird, hilt first.

  "Give me your silver dagger," Amber said and walked to stand with the distance of the room between us, about thirty feet. "Gall it to you."

  A pulse of power and it flew to my hand, straight and true.

  "Wow," Jamie said from the stairs where he and Thaddeus watched with fascination. The small surges of power had probably drawn them down.

  "I've never seen anyone do that before," Jamie said.

  "That's because no one else can," Chami said dryly. "Try my knife." He tossed his silver stiletto to Amber, who snatched it from the air.

  With a burst of concentration, I called it to me. Silver blades seemed to be no problem. I tossed it back to Chami and he snatched it with an easy flick of his wrist, sheathing it.

  "Not too bad," Chami said.

  "Not bad? That was amazing!" Thaddeus exclaimed.

  "You must familiarize yourself with all of our knives, milady," Chami said, "so that you can call any of them to you should the need arise."

  "It's a good suggestion, Chami, but some other night," I said quietly and sank down onto the beige sectional sofa.

  Chami acquiesced to my wishes with a nod, seeming to sense my discomfort at being the core of attention, and drew the boys' interest from me with an impressive display of twirling stiletto play.

  If Jamie and Thaddeus felt the edginess restlessness, the eager anticipation the rest of us felt as the witching hour of the full moon brushed nearer, they showed no signs of it.

  When it was almost midnight, Chami asked, "Would you like me to speak to your brother about tonight?"

  "Please," I said gratefully.

  Chami explained Basking to Thaddeus in his simple didactic manner, much the same way he had discussed dagger-fighting techniques.

  "Any questions?" I asked Thaddeus after he had digested the information.

  "No. I'd like to see it."

  That was good. We needn't spare anyone then to guard Thaddeus, Jamie and Tersa. They could be there with us, close enough to protect during the ceremony.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  We stepped outside and the night greeted us, caressing us with cool ringers of airy wind. The refreshing scent of pungent pine filled our nostrils as we went deeper into the wooded lot until we reached a little clearing freshly made. A few trees had been uprooted and some brush cleared, just enough for our little group to stand together under the round pale glory of our mother moon. Thaddeus, Jamie, and Tersa stood a little apart and to the left of us.

  The others looked to me. It was time.

  The one other time I'd done this, I had sort of stumbled into it and it had just happened. Now my debut official performance was to occur before my newly found brother whose secure world had just been ripped apart by the death of his parents, and then turned upside-down once more by my entrance. Then there were the men I'd taken responsibility for, whose very lives depended on me. Shortened lives, if I couldn't draw down the moon's renewing little flutters of light. Plain, steadfast Tomas whose smile lighted his whole face. Neat, proper Aquila who would not have minded dying after a last honorable act if the Council had so decreed. Sly, wicked, oh-so-deadly Chami who teased and pushed, but was sensitive enough to deflect attention from me when it discomforted me. No pressure. Sure.

  They should have offered a course: Fundamentals of Basking 101. Maybe I'd suggest it to the Council next time. Right.

  I took a deep, cleansing breath, then another, opening myself to the night, unfurling my senses, reaching out further and further until it hit against something foreign and familiar. Something thai was other like us, but did not belong. Then it was too late.

  They pounced. Not on me. Not on my men. But on the one sure thing to stop me, to stop all of us: Thaddeus.

  Sandoor held the sharp edge of his sword against Thaddeus's fragile neck as another man shoved Tersa and Jamie toward us, centering us all. There were only five men beside Sandoor. I wondered what had happened to the other two.

  "Well," Sandoor purred in a deep rumble, "we meet again. "

  "What do you want?" I demanded.

  "What do you think, little Queen? To Bask to begin with. Do not let us interrupt your little tête-à-tête. Pretend we're not even here." He pressed the sword's edge so that it indented Thaddeus's skin, his voice a clear warning and command. "Continue."

  Anger flared along with my power and I felt something deep and wild stir within me, my beast wanting out, snarling that I caged it still.

  I lifted my eyes and arms to the blessed moon and opened myself to the drawing power that filled the night, welcomed it, asked it to come down and fill us. And it did.

  Soft, gentle rays of mo
onlight fell upon me from that smiling white lunar face, sprinkling down benevolent butterflies of light that caressed my being with whisper-light wings before vanishing within me like little darts of joy.

  I saw the men's rapturous face as the shower of light began to spread to those closest to me, filling them with glowing renewal—Amber, Gryphon, Chami. I saw the shining wonder and awe in Thaddeus's enraptured eyes. Saw him lift his face and arms up to the sky. Felt that flare of energy like mine yet different. Male. Masculine. Powerful and throbbing. Wonderment and embracing love.

  The moon recognized and answered him.

  Another shaft of light fell upon Thaddeus, illuminating that ecstatic upturned face with an exultant glow of adoration. Fluttering light bathed him, entered him. And spread to Sandoor and his men, encompassing them all in the glorious celebration of renewing life.

  A long time passed—six, maybe seven seconds, after that last flicker of light was absorbed into us.

  "Sweet Night!" Sandoor exclaimed, gazing down at the boy he held in his hands with awe. And I knew then what was in his mind. He was going to take Thaddeus only. And I knew I would never let Sandoor have him.

  I walked slowly toward him. "You came for me, Sandoor, did you not?"

  "Stop right there!" Sandoor commanded.

  I laughed and paid him no heed, swaying a few steps closer. "Or you'll what? Slit Thaddeus's throat? Your male miracle of light? I think not."

  Sandoor smiled, his eyes so like Amber's. The difference between them lay within their heart, their souls. Sandoor lowered his sword so that it pressed against Thaddeus's shoulder and called my bluff. "Slit his throat, no. But I would not mind carving him up a little. Do you wish to hear your brother squeal like a pig, little girl?"

  I halted.

  Sandoor smiled. "That's more like it. Have your men put down their weapons."

  I smiled back. "And leave them defenseless to your armed men? Even you should know better." I laughed unpleasantly. "Or perhaps you don't. Maybe you just don't have the ability to rise to the level your own son has risen to, no matter how many Queens you fuck or how many times you Bask."