Ronin (The Pike Chronicles Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

Jonas, Anki’s grandfather.
    She eased the muscles in her forearm, and the balls slowed in response. A few revolutions more and she had the pair of small spheres in her little hand. She brought an arm to her forehead and wiped the perspiration away as she turned to face her grandfather. He stood at the other end of the room, his body perfectly straight, his face hard, his eyes fierce. She held her breath, waiting for his response. Her heart jumped for joy when she noticed the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. It was there only for an instant, but she knew she saw it. High praise from her grandfather.
    “You need to make your circles smaller,” he said.
    “Smaller?” said Anki, confused by her grandfather’s observation.
    “Yes, smaller.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    Her grandfather walked across the room toward her. “Give me your lariat,” he said, extending out his hand. Anki placed the weighted rope belt into his palm and he backed away.
    “You rely on your forearm too much,” he said, as he walked into the middle of the room. He shot out the lariat and had it immediately spinning at phenomenal speed. His hand moved and the rope changed directions. “Do you see how my forearm moves?”
    His forearm did move, albeit not much. “Yes,” said Anki.
    He moved again and the weights changed direction. “Can you anticipate my strike through the movement of my arm?”
    “Yes,” she said. “I think so.”
    He nodded. “Can you see my forearm move now?”
    The rope changed directions but she didn’t notice any movement in his arm. The trajectory changed again, still nothing. He whipped the weighted balls around, yet each time he changed tactics she could see nothing. If she had been fighting him she wouldn’t be able to guess which shape the next attack would take. If the enemy didn’t know which way the next attack would come, they couldn’t get out of the way. Her grandfather slowed the rope until it stopped. He walked back to Anki and handed her back the lariat.
    “Make the circles smaller, until they are almost non-existent. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Grandfather.”
    “Good,” he said, turning and walking back across the room. “Now try again.”
    Anki took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them the room was once again full of Kemmar soldiers. She scowled, lunged forward and shot out the weights at the closest one. She broke into a run, her weapon striking out at each of her enemies, careful not to telegraph her strikes with her arm. They came at her from all angles. She leaped and ducked and sidestepped out of the way of the attacks, all along countering with a precise strike of her own. They were overrun. The onslaught relentless. But she was a cyclone. A spinning, dancing fury. Some charged carelessly, deceived by her age and size. They required almost no effort. Others saw her prowess. They were more challenging, striking at her multiple times before she overcame them.
    The door opened and distracted her from her mission. She looked to see what new danger approached, when she saw her mother enter instead. They exchanged smiles. Anki’s attention turned back to her battle, finishing off the remaining enemy. Returning the double weights to her hand, she ran to her mother, who now stood next to her grandfather.
    “You’ve improved, child. Well done,” said Breeah.
    Anki felt a surge of pride rise up inside her. She had never seen anyone more skilled with the lariat. Even her grandfather, who had trained her mother, said she had surpassed his ability.
    “Now you just need to make your circles smaller,” said Breeah.
    Anki frowned. “But I fixed that problem.”
    “It will take more practice than that,” said Jonas. “Fear not, it will come. Now why don’t you go and get yourself a drink of water.”
    Anki sighed and walked over to the fountain. She took a long drink, wondering how long it would take to be as skilled as her mother. When she walked back,