what the whole technique looked like. Everything in its place. The end of one form and the beginning of the next aligned in a single step determining a complete change of position. Another swing, push, withdrawal and lunge forward. All at a pace that to a human would cause pain. Even to him, the dragon, the sword weighed heavy with such an exercise and it had nothing to do with the unusual balance of the weapon. He performed the four techniques intertwined into a coherent pattern and went back to the beginning. He took a deep, relaxing breath, breathed out and went to the starting position again. He repeated the whole set-up a few more times trying to correct the shortcomings, which Gler'thys signalled with a short cold sting. When he was satisfied and had assimilated the basics of the new technique he decided to perform it one last time-as fast as his skills would allow.
He stood in the starting position and took a few breaths calming himself even more. It was just him and Gler'thys. Nothing else mattered at that moment. In an instant, he tensed all over, raised his blade in a slash and danced with murderous accuracy. He could almost see the spectral opponents being reached by successive blows. Slash, retreat, duck, change position, lunge with a thrust and automatically move on to the next cut. Each move made with precision hammered into the flesh by slow practice, each fast enough to turn the blade into a shimmering smudge that seemed to float around him.
He didn't keep count of the passage of time, but he was sure the whole thing didn't take much. When he stopped, at the very end, he slid the sword into its scabbard in a slow motion and took a deep breath. He wanted to somewhat calm his rapidly beating heart and the heat of battle that was building up within him. He slowly opened his eyes on an exhale and froze. He was standing in the middle of the training ground, and all around the area marked out by stone
