Gavin had no idea what was required, but he didn’t think he had the necessary strength. The bindings around him were too tight, and he didn’t have any way to loosen them. If Tristan somehow believed he’d be able to rip through them with strength, then he was mistaken.
Frustration filled him. Gavin focused on his training, looking for some solution he had yet to see. Oftentimes, Tristan had already shown him the answer, and Gavin only had to find it. Too often, though, it was too difficult.
He focused on the energy within him, what Tristan had called a core reserve of energy. A place of power. It was deep within him, and if he focused enough, if he dove within that power, Gavin might be able to call upon it and use that to get free. He steadied himself, breathing in and out, holding onto that sense of energy.
There.
Gavin pressed on the bindings wrapped around him, holding onto them as tightly as he could. The ropes strained, and he could feel the pressure around him, everything working into his flesh.
Still he pushed.
There was that core reserve of power.
But with as long as he had gone without food and water—time he’d lost track of—Gavin doubted whether he would even have enough strength or reserve to break free.
Even if I did, would Tristan know that I was free?
Maybe Tristan didn’t care.
Gavin no longer knew whether any of this mattered to the man. It was possible that Tristan had only wanted him tested; to starve, to suffer. It wouldn’t be the first time Tristan had tormented him in such a way, though it would be the first time he’d withheld food and water. Of course, Gavin was getting older. As he aged, the challenges posed to him became more difficult.
He reached for that power deep within him. He could feel that core energy simmering beneath the surface. Gavin drew upon it, and the power exploded outward.
The ropes resisted him, but then they snapped apart.
Gavin sagged back in the chair. He’d broken free of only the ropes around his arms, and he picked at the ones around his legs—a task that proved almost more difficult than he was capable of doing in this state.
He stood, wobbling slightly.
How long have I gone without food or water?
He staggered across the room. A basin of water rested there, and he picked it up, sipping at it. He knew better than to lap too hungrily at the water, especially after having gone as long as he must have without it. Gavin set the water down and breathed out, then leaned one hand on the door. He pulled it open and found Tristan sitting on the other side.
“Good,” he said.
“That’s all?”
“What more do you think I should say to you?”
“You left me there.” He could barely get the words out. “Tormented me. You starved me.”
“Good.”
“You need to stop saying that.”
“Because you feared death?”
Gavin took a step back, staring at Tristan.
Was that why?
He didn’t think so. In his training with Tristan, he’d learned that death was a part of life. Fighting meant losing. Eventually, he would die. He had long ago come to terms with that.
The one key lesson Tristan had always tried to instill upon him was that when he fought, and when he eventually died, he should do so for the right reason. He should do so knowing that he’d fought the way he wanted to. If he trained well and was prepared, then any fight he entered would be one he could win.
Gavin leaned on the wall. “What now?”
“Now you prepare for—”
Tristan darted forward, driving his fist toward Gavin.
He was tired, but he knew this was another aspect of the testing. He dropped and spun his leg, trying to hook Tristan’s, but he wasn’t nearly as quick as he normally was. He tried to slam his leg into Tristan and trip him, but Tristan overpowered him.
Gavin stumbled forward, and he smashed his fist into Tristan’s shoulder. Tristan grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back, and then threw him forward.
Gavin stumbled again and then staggered away.
Tristan shook his head. “Better, but you still have work to do.”
He jumped, spinning in the air, and Gavin recognized the technique. It was one they’d been working on recently. Gavin threw the appropriate block and then twisted, dropping down and punching the area where Tristan would land. He missed, everything half a step too slow.
Tristan flipped his leg around, catching Gavin in the back of the head with his heel. Gavin sprawled forward and didn’t bother getting up. He didn’t think he’d be able to.
Tristan stood over him, glaring down. “Get moving.”
“No.”
“If you don’t get moving, you’re going to take a knife to the back.”
“What makes you think I’m not going to take that anyway?”
“Because you’re going to get moving.”
Gavin pulled himself up, moving slowly. Even as he did, he didn’t know if it mattered. He could barely get himself going. Everything within him ached, a pained sense that left him with agony.
He got to his knees. When Tristan spun and twisted with a kick, Gavin reacted by throwing out his arm. He blocked, but barely so. Tristan smiled at him, a grim expression to it.
Gavin was prepared for the next strike. He deflected it and then went sprawling forward again. He rolled off to the side. It was a struggle to maintain movement. He attempted to get back up, but even as he did, he could feel Tristan barreling toward him again.
Gavin twisted, using everything in his ability to get back to his feet. There was another thing he could try. He somersaulted forward and crashed into Tristan’s legs.
Tristan laughed as he stepped off to the side, and the sound of that laughter set him on edge. Gavin launched, driving forward with both fists, trying to catch Tristan in the belly. Still, the man laughed.
Gavin rolled again, kicking outward. Most of the time, he had to get lucky to catch Tristan off guard. He didn’t know if he’d be lucky this time, but he was determined to throw himself at Tristan, even though his mentor didn’t even seem to be fighting back.
He kicked and missed, and Tristan laughed again. He lunged toward Tristan, twisting and rolling, but his punch met nothing but air. He spun. Slowly his strength was returning. More than that, he could feel his core strength replenishing.
Maybe that was a mistake. Tristan had warned him that drawing upon core strength too often—and too powerfully—might drain his energy in such a way he wouldn’t be able to recover. Gavin didn’t know if it was true or not, but he was determined to defeat Tristan this time, which would involve using as much power as he could. He didn’t care, and even if he did, that wouldn’t have stopped him.
From a distance, he could see Tristan trying to reach the hallway. He was still laughing. At least, he was in Gavin’s mind. Wrapped up as he was in his core strength, Gavin felt that energy roll through him as he held onto that power. He sprinted to catch up and then launched at Tristan, grabbing his shirt and throwing him. Tristan slammed into the wall and went ricocheting back.
Tristan got to his feet and grinned at him. It seemed as if Gavin could never hurt him, as if anything he did was little more than an irritant. Just once, Gavin wanted to do something that would actually hurt the other man.
“Better,” Tristan said. “You learned to draw upon your strength.”