Eleven
“Sword! Scimitar! Bow and arrow!” Olive barks out, snapping her fingers between each command. “Calla, you’re not keeping up. Dagger!” Finger snap. “Chakram!” Finger snap. “Whip!” Finger snap. “I don’t see a whip, Calla.”
I try to block out her harsh voice and impatient glare and concentrate instead on the feel of the whip in my hand. Eventually, it appears within my grip. I bring it swiftly through the air, watch the end wrap around a low-hanging branch, and tug it hard. The branch cracks and breaks and sails through the air. The whip vanishes as I let go, but the branch keeps coming. I dodge so I don’t get myself knocked out.
We’re outside at the old Guild ruins, an area that’s apparently used quite often for training. It’s large enough to accommodate plenty of trainees and thei
