Overcomer - The Battle, Judy Colella [first color ebook reader .TXT] 📗

A large class was about to start when they walked in; the students were standing in two perfect lines facing their instructor, whose back was to a bank of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Mr. Geller went to the desk and spoke quietly to the man sitting there, going over the schedule book. A few minutes later, he nodded to Geller, got up, and after removing his shoes, walked into the main room where the class was being held. He made a bow as he entered, approached a small man standing by the adjacent wall and whispered something to him. The man leaned over to where he would be visible to Geller and his two guests, and beckoned them forward.

While Geller and Cian knew enough to bow as they entered the room, the only beings to whom Croghan ever bowed were the celestial ones at the Hub. He wasn’t insensitive to worldly proprieties, however, and executed a brief, if somewhat less deferential, bow himself as he entered.

“Joe, glad to see you! And who might these be?”

“This is Gerald Croghan.” Geller indicated the older man with a wave. “And this is one of my foster boys, Cian MacDara.” He turned to them and said, “Gentlemen, this is my good friend, Sifu Chao Liang.” He had pronounced the man’s title “shee-foo.”

Something stirred in Cian’s memory; he let it awaken, then bowed again to the teacher and said, “Hĕn gāo xìng rén shì nìn, Xiānshēng.”

Chao responded, pleased, then caught the look of utter astonishment on Mr. Geller’s face. “He said he was very glad to meet me, Joe, and I told him the honor was mine,” the Sifu translated, smiling. “So, young man, what is it you can do? My assistant says your main interest lies with the jian shu, according to Mr. Croghan, yes?”

“It does, Sifu.”

“And how long have you been practicing with it?”

If Mr. Geller was expecting Cian to say, “not very long,” or, “a little a long time ago,” or some such thing, he was in for another surprise.

“All my life, sir. My father was a swordsman, and began teaching me when I was about two or so. With a wooden sword, of course,” he added with a grin.

“I see. Come with me, please.” Sifu Chao nodded the boy forward and all three followed the instructor into a back room. Here, swords of almost every size, shape and description were hanging on three of the four walls. The man waved at them. “Choose.”

Cian looked for a sword that came closest to what he knew best, and a moment later, pointed to one halfway up the back wall. Chao got a long pole with a complicated-looking prong on the end. “This one? No? Ah, the one beside it.” He took this down, approval in his eyes, and handed it to the boy. “Let us go back into the main room so you can show us what you know. If you made a choice this good, you must truly know how to use it, yes?”

Cian stared at the weapon in his hand, felt its balance, its weight, knew it was straight and true, and nodded. “I do, Sifu. Thank you.”

“This kid is full of surprises, isn’t he!” Geller murmured.

Impressed himself with Cian’s recollection of Mandarin and his unexpected confidence, Croghan nodded. “He certainly is.”

Almost since the day Cian stopped stuttering – one of the more obvious side-effects of six years of abuse – he had returned to his exercises in swordplay. While living as a virtual prisoner in the basement of his foster family’s house in Georgia, he had found an old baseball bat, which he’d carved and sanded into a sword. Even though he’d blocked out many memories of his earlier life, he knew it was important for him to have one of these. Something in his deepest memories recalled the movements, so he’d used this as a way to stay physically strong, while fulfilling a need he didn’t really understand.

Even though he’d left the wooden sword in that house when he was rescued, he found he didn’t need it in order to do the movements. Sometimes, though, when he could get his hands on a push-broom at the Institute, he would practice with that by unscrewing the handle from the brush-head. It was a lot longer than a real sword, but the extra length actually helped him with his balance, and the weight was almost right. When he’d moved into the house in Connecticut the Sunday before, he’d been unable to practice in this manner, so instead did the basic movements in his room whenever he had a few moments.

Now, with a real sword in his hands again, and having finally remembered why using a sword had been so natural and needful, he felt at ease with himself even though others would be watching this time.

Sifu Chao interrupted the class instructor, spoke with him for a moment, then asked his students to please sit on the floor, telling them that they would be watching a demonstration from a practiced swordsman. Cian winced a little at the description, but knew what the man was doing. If he failed, it would be an invaluable lesson; on the other hand, if he did well, the Sifu might allow him to join the school.

Chao bowed to Cian, who had meanwhile removed his shoes and sweater. The t-shirt he had under it would allow him more freedom of movement while providing sufficient concealment for the horrifying tapestry of scars covering his back. The Sifu gestured toward the center of the floor.

Returning the bow, Cian went to stand with his back to the wall of mirrors, closing his eyes. Breathing evenly, he allowed his memories to make their way back into their proper places, relaxing himself as he acknowledged the emergence of each recollection.

He began to move. Slowly at first, he used only his upper body and arms, then took a step and began moving a little faster. Soon, he was executing beautiful arcs and swirls, making the sword twirl and thrust, swing upward then around and down, as he turned and spun, ducked and parried, grace and fluidity in every move both small and grand, until the sword itself was a flashing blur.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw both instructors approach bearing their own swords, and with a smile of pure joy, met their blades with his own, blocking, deflecting, dancing in and away again. Everyone, regardless of whether or not they’d ever observed a display of swordsmanship, could see that this boy and the sword were extensions of each other. When at last SifuChao gave the vocal signal for the demonstration to end, Cian swung his blade upward in a salute, and bowed deeply to both of his opponents. Then he told them in his amazing Chinese that he was humbled and grateful to them for being so kind as to allow a meeting of blades with them. Chao Liang was somewhat overwhelmed by the boy’s honest meekness and unassuming nature, and impulsively pulled him into a brusque hug. Then he patted Cian on the shoulder and thanked him in English.

The class, which until this point had been totally silent as much in awe as with respect for the exchange among the three at the end, burst into applause.

“What do you think, Joe?” asked Croghan over the noise. “I’m quite frankly astonished – I had no idea Cian had retained so much of what he’d learned, and it looked like he has even added to it somehow! Amazing!”

As the applause died down, Mr. Geller looked from Cian to Croghan, appearing to be at a total loss. “Well! I can’t deny he has a lot of ability, Gerald, but – ”

“Look, Joe. If there was any aggression in him, he would have manifested this talent long before now to the sorrow of someone else, I’m sure.”

Chao Liang was approaching them, a broad smile on his face.

“Better make up your mind,” whispered Croghan. “It’s decision time.”

“Joe! You didn’t tell me you had a wonder like this living in your house. Did he recently arrive?”

“Yes, actually – he’s only been here about a week.”

“He is amazing! I have never seen such skill in one so young. I would be honored to have him here as one of my instructors.”

Neither man had seen this one coming and they both gaped.

“Wait, an in-instructor?” Geller stuttered.

“Well, what else could he be, Joe? He has very little left to learn, and in fact, I mean to ask him to show me how to execute a few of those moves!”

“I see. Uh, I – ”

As the other two were speaking, Croghan looked past them to see what Cian was doing. “Oh, no,” he groaned suddenly.

Cian was surrounded by wide-eyed young ladies, none of them saying very much, all of them staring longingly at him. To his credit, he didn’t scream and run out of the room, although the look on his face said that the thought might have occurred to him. The male members of the class were trying to ask him questions, but were having a hard time getting past the women. Finally, as graciously as he could, Cian extricated himself saying it was past his bedtime and he had school in the morning. The men thought this was funny, but the women continued to gape, glassy-eyed, at the heart-stopping features and strong physique of the beleaguered seventeen-year-old.

“That,” he said, when he finally reached the corner where the three men stood trying not to laugh, “was really embarrassing.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Chao, eyes twinkling, “most guys would give anything to get that kind of attention.”

“Well, they can have it,” said Cian. “I’m finally starting to realize that maybe I am good-looking or something, and I have no idea what to do about it.” His desperation was unabashedly honest.

Chao Liang was taken aback. How could this boy not know about his looks? “Cian, my good friend Joe Geller here, has given permission for you to be one of my sword instructors. Does this please you?”

“Sure, I…wait – what?! An instructor? Me?”

“Why so surprised? You nearly disarmed my best instructor during the demonstration, and the last person ever to come close to doing that was me.”

Cian looked at Croghan, shocked, then back at Sifu Chao. “But I have so much yet to learn!”

“Of course you do. So do I. We never stop learning, right?”

Cian nodded as he considered the offer. He had a feeling, if he was reading this man right, that there would indeed be plenty of instruction coming his way. At last, having made up his mind (although he’d have to somehow to fit this in with his job at the Mall), he smiled and bowed. “Thank you, Sifu. I would be deeply honored to help instruct at your school.”

After Cian, Mr. Geller and Croghan left, Chao Liang went to the man at the desk, shaking his head. “I think, Fong, we should prepare for a dramatic increase in female students.”

Celeste was singing. Not one of the Songs, of course, but something she’d heard somewhere that had a happy melody. And she was setting the table. This was not a usual combination of events, and Eileen stepped out of the kitchen for a moment to watch her. To her surprise, she saw