Chapter 67 The Colour Red - Part 8

Chapter 67 The Colour Red - Part 8

"Did you really do this all yourself?" Her mother asked, her eyes containing a hint of disbelief. Nila looked to Beam for support.

Beam nodded. "I didn't believe it myself, but it would seem your daughter is quite skilled with a bow," Beam said.

Nila grinned at the acknowledgement and nodded excitedly. "See? It's like I've been telling you. I'm way better than the other hunters. I'll go out again tomorrow and get even more. Since he's got his sled, I can bring loads back with me."

"Hang on," her mother said, slowing her down. "You can't just keep calling him 'he'. What's your name, sweetie?" She asked Beam.

"Beam," Beam said expressionlessly.

They both seemed to pull back a bit at his name, as though feeling sorry for him that he was named something so stupid. But he shrugged internally. It wasn't the name given to him at birth – it was the name his slavers had given him. He had chosen to keep using it as a reminder of his position and what he'd been through. And he'd continue using it until the day he'd achieved what he wanted.

Before, he didn't know exactly what it was that he wanted. He just knew it was some sort of grand achievement. But now he knew, the day that he retook his real name would be the day he slew the Pandora Goblin.

"That's such a stupid name..." Nila said, pretending to gag.

"Don't say that," her mother scolded her. She looked at Beam with kind eyes. "Thank you so much for the help you've given us today. Nila's pushing you to come again tomorrow – but is that really okay? You've already given us so much wood."

...

...

That afternoon, Beam was back training with his master again. They sparred in the midst of the pine forest, a short walk away from Dominus' house. Beam practised with a short stick in the place of a knife. His aim was to dial in his strategies for when he next dealt with the Goblins.

He feigned one direction, then he feigned the opposite direction, before leaping forward from the original direction, his knife – his stick – bearing down on Dominus from overhead. But that too was a feint. He switched his momentum in midair and aimed for Dominus' midsection.

But the old knight swatted the blow away with such contempt it was as though Beam was nothing more than a fly in the wind.

Beam rolled away, breaking his fall, sending dry pine needles flying.

He'd realized as he fought with his master over the past week that he needed to perfect a style. He needed moves of his own that he could use. He needed weapons. And so he'd settled on a style that he imagined would be highly effective against Goblins. A style with an emphasis on misdirection.

"Your flow is improving," Dominus noted, "but your attacks lack bite, and these foolish attempts at misdirection are weak and unconvincing. You'd be lucky to even trick a Goblin with them. If you wish to misdirect your enemy, then you have to understand the aims of your enemy."

"The aims of my enemy?" Beam repeated thoughtfully, lowering himself back into a fighting stance.

"You have to understand how they see the world. You have to understand what they're looking for – it's only then that you can manipulate their perception."

Beam was already moving as he processed that thought. How did a Goblin see the world? What was it looking for when it fought? No. His enemy right now wasn't a Goblin. It was Dominus, the wounder of the Pandora Goblin. What was he looking for? What did he see?