Chapter 10: Sailing with the Enemy

“Wait until I command you to stop.” Galen reclined on a large pillow on the deck of the ship. “Remember, don’t ignore the pain. Pain won’t be ignored. Befriend it. That is the only way to defeat pain. Make it your friend.”

Day seven of our voyage across the Theron Ocean. I was doing a handstand on the deck of the boat, part of the morning routine. A handstand is difficult, made more so by a shifting and lurching deck beneath you. The first day I couldn’t stay on my hands more than a few heartbeats. Each day I was able to extend my time.

The Last Sentinel wasn’t a massive ship but big enough for a series of cabins beneath and a tiny galley. The crew consisted of two elves, one a captain of sorts and the other a general elf of many jobs and talents. Lyne sailed with us, cooking most of the meals and providing whatever assistance Galen or I needed.

My arms roared with agony. I wore only my breeches in the warm sun which rose in front of us to the east. Sweat dripped off my body and splattered the deck, mixing with the salt water, making the surface slick and more difficult to stay upright.

But I was doing it.

Over the past few days, Galen continued to push me. There wasn’t room on the deck to run a marathon, but he directed me with other types of calisthenics and exercises that tore down every muscle in my body, many I never knew I had.

Befriend the pain. That wasn’t the first time he’d said that phrase. I tried, but befriending pain was more difficult than the exercise itself. Maybe that was the point.

The deck beneath me swayed, and my right elbow buckled. My legs swung back and forth, and I stayed up for another moment before my left arm seized and failed. I landed on the wooden floor with a modicum of control.

“Ah, I didn’t say you could stop.” Galen sat up.

Panting, I wiped my face and rose, as well, looking at him. “I went longer than yesterday.”

“The instruction wasn’t to last longer than yesterday but to stay upright until I commanded you to stop.”

I lowered my head and shook it.

Galen gazed into the sky. “Judging by the wind, it will be almost two ninedays until we reach the Citadel. We must be as ready as we can be. Rather, you must be.”

Frowning, I said, “Ready for what?”

Galen scoffed. “You cannot know the peril into which you go. Training at the Citadel is dangerous for an elf. Deaths during the process are rare but not unheard of. You are not an elf, as you know. I may have the Emperor’s permission to make a human Bladeguard, but I do not have the support of others in his council, nor others at the Citadel. There are greater tests that await you, if you can survive them.”

“If it’s that dangerous, then why not train me in the sword? That’s why you’re called a Bladeguard, right?”