Rebels of Vulvar (Vulvarian Saga Book 2), стр. 12

At the sound of the first bell, the following morning, the officers entered our sleeping quarters and rousted us from our cots. After we dressed, they marched us to the mess where we ate in haste our morning rations of watery gruel and stale brown bread. Then the officers separated the cohort into groups.

A junior officer marched my group of six to the archery range. An instructor explained the training schedule as we sat on our haunches outside the range. Afterward, the instructors took each of us to our respective positions. There we engaged targets at various distances with our bows.

My training at the archery club back on Earth did not fail me. My instructor was delighted with my unerring accuracy at every distance. Even when he attempted to distract me by beating his sword against a shield behind my head as I loosed the arrows, each found its mark. By the end of the morning, I had earned a near perfect score.

Before the officer marched us from the range, the chief instructor informed the others in my group they would report to the range each morning to improve their skills. But he told me I would proceed to other training. I had already surpassed all requirements.

After the midday meal, my group was merged with the larger group and the officers marched the cohort to the next training site. There they again separated us, this time into groups of eight. A sword training instructor took charge of each group.

The name of the instructor for my group was Zareb. He was a swarthy, dark haired giant of a man, a bearded fellow with a serious, craggy face and fierce black eyes, who carried himself as though he owned the ground on which he walked. His whole powerful body and demeanor bespoke a warrior who knew the sword and was confident he could kill almost anyone who might stand against him.

Zareb first demonstrated for us the swordsmanship techniques and tactics he expected us to master. One by one he exhibited how the rakir was used to cut, stab, slash, and parry. There was nothing like the graceful footwork I’d learned from my sensei when I’d trained on Earth with the katana.

In comparison to the katana, the rakir was a crude weapon used primarily for hacking at an enemy when used at all. Like the female Vulvarian warriors I was more familiar with, the rebels had adopted the same Hoplite-like phalanx formation tactics similar to those of the ancient Athenian military of Earth.

A phalanx is a military formation consisting of warriors arrayed in squares, their metal shields half-protecting the bearer and the comrade at his left in the formation while their spears protruded outward. It is a massive impenetrable wall of iron spear tips, armor, and shields.

Since the phalanx formation was designed for pushing and smashing and thrusting spears, the short heavy rakir was only used when spears or the phalanx formation broke. Thus, the Vulvarians followed a simple sword fighting guide. The rakir was heavy and short, so it required strength, but not much skill. Since the primary weapon of the warriors was the spear, and the object was to break the enemies formation, battles often ended quickly. In that case, only the front ranks had the chance to hack anything using their rakirs.

After the demonstration, Zareb told the group he would spar with each of us so that we might practice the sword fighting techniques. He pointed the tip of his rakir at me.

“You first, archer,” he said.

I got to my feet and withdrew my sword from the scabbard. I stepped out into the circle formed by my comrades to face Zareb. Zareb picked up a shield from the ground and tossed it to me. I slipped my left forearm through the holding straps. Zareb nodded and slowly circled me.

“Defend yourself, warrior,” he growled.

I held the shield to protect my upper torso and held the rakir in my right hand in the on guard position Zareb had demonstrated. He had spurned the shield, supposing he had little to fear from a trainee. Without warning, with blinding speed, he closed with me and attacked. Because of his great strength, his powerful jabs and chops against my shield kept me backing away in retreat. My attempts to counter with the awkward, unbalanced rakir were at best ineffectual. Within five minutes Zareb cut me superficially, but painfully a number of times, shouting out each time, “You’re dead.”

The sparring lasted some ten minutes before Zareb called a halt, leaving me covered in sweat, dripping blood, and feeling exhausted. Zareb grabbed the shield from my arm and tossed it to his next victim. I collapsed to the ground to rest, but watched Zareb sparring with the other trainee so I might commit to memory his tactics and movements. I resolved to employ as best I could the things I’d learned when training with the katana. The rakir was a different kind of sword, used differently, but there were a few Kenjutsu tactics I thought I could use to good effect.

After the first hour of training, Zareb had sparred with each member of my group. It was again my turn, and he tossed me the shield. In the first round, because of my unfamiliarity with the awkward feeling rakir I had allowed Zareb to take the initiative. I would adopt a different tactic. In combat, you do not have time to think about how to hold the sword, how to do the correct footwork. So, I would rely on the correct form I’d learned during hours and hours of practice with the katana. I would seize the initiative.

In the practice of Kenjutsu I had learned to put and keep maximum pressure on the opponent. There is katsujin-ken and setsunin-to. Setsunin-to is the “killing sword.” Katsujin-ken means “life-giving” sword. In both cases the reference is not to the weapon itself, but to its usage.

When a combatant uses force of will to overpower, immobilize and strike down an