AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And maybe,” Hùisdean stepped closer, talking over Ayda. “Maybe I was already feeling combative because someone didn't like me from the beginning anyway.”
Ayda froze, shifting her weight between her feet. “Fine. I will admit that I didn't love that the O'Neils had to bring in another expert on earth magic. They're my employers. It looks bad.”
Hùisdean shrugged. “Magic is very collaborative. We all know you need to get outside perspectives. Besides, I've come here to ask for your help, haven't I?”
Ayda nodded, refusing to look directly at him. When she didn't say anything, Hùisdean started to walk away. Ayda watched out of the corner of her eye as he walked towards one of the weapons racks, pulling two Carolingian swords off their stands.
“What do you say about a wager then, Ayda?” The mischievous tone in his voice was back, and Ayda's interest was piqued.
“Oh?” She turned back towards him. Fighting with Hùisdean came much more naturally to her than discussing her feelings.
“It’s a sword fight. Small magical charms and spells are allowed. There are no incapacitating runes, just sword fighting…with a different edge.”
Ayda grinned. Her father had taken her weapons training as seriously as her mother had latched onto Ayda's magical training—not that Hùisdean knew anything about that.
“I’m good with those terms. What are we wagering?” Ayda cocked her head to the side, already sizing Hùisdean up. He was over a foot taller than her and nearly just as broad. As all elves were, he was still quick on his feet, but she counted his size against him.
“Easy,” Hùisdean quickly maneuvered the sword in front of him. “If you win, I depart for the Shetland Islands immediately. If I win…you come back with me and help me dismantle this curse.”
Ayda paused, taking another few seconds to size up Hùisdean’s form before agreeing readily.
“That’s easy enough. At least I’ll be able to tell everyone it’s your fault that I couldn’t help you.”
“Ha-ha,” Hùisdean mimicked with a snide look on his face. He extended the handle of one of the Carolingian swords towards Ayda. She picked it up and weighed it, getting a feel for the weapon’s balance and movement. Hùisdean easily slipped into a fighter’s stance as Ayda closed her eyes. She whispered a couple of words in Bengali. The sword was enveloped in a gentle red mist, melting away before their eyes.
Ayda took great joy in Hùisdean’s look of shock when the blade transformed into a talwar. It was a curved, one-edged sword with an all-metal hilt. Ayda’s father had trained her on several weapons, but up against a Viking broadsword such as the Carolingian, this was Ayda’s choice.
“Look who knows a little bit of weapons magic.” Hùisdean’s shock had melted away, and he was staring at Ayda with a new look of appreciation. “I might have my work cut out for me.”
Ayda said nothing in return. She only smiled, brandishing the sword effortlessly and executing a few quick, elegant slashing movements to get a feel for the newly manipulated blade. Hùisdean smirked, holding his sword up in invitation.
“Now, I assume that you know—”
Ayda didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. She lunged and feinted. Hùisdean reacted to the bait, immediately attempting to parry. Ayda was prepared to disarm him with a quick strike to the wrist, but Hùisdean already caught up to her.
“Til bregða!” he snapped. The warm rush of Hùisdean’s magic went straight up Ayda’s arm. She watched in equal parts frustration and awe as her blade suddenly deflated. It drooped as if it was made of wet pasta.
“Goddamn it.” Ayda hissed. She whispered a counter curse under her breath. Her sword solidified just in time for her to block a downward swing from Hùisdean. He almost nearly succeeded in disarming her. They were now face to face, practically sweating on one another, with their swords crossed between them.
“That’s one of my favorites,” Hùisdean said with a wicked smile. Ayda pushed forward and threw him off her, knocking him backward a few paces.
“Do you happen to have a lot of performance issues like that?” Ayda smirked, brandishing her weapon.
“Funny,” Hùisdean scoffed and lunged.
Ayda lost track of him as they traded spells and strikes. They kept going until Ayda could feel her muscles burning. She chided herself for being unable to keep her focus; every few minutes, she was caught staring at Hùisdean’s body moving in combat. Obviously, he’d had centuries of learning from the best swordsmanship tutors. The sweat started to drip off his brow.
Thank the gods. He’s at least starting to tire out too.
Ayda rattled off another spell, and before Hùisdean could quip back in response, tiny vines exploded from the hilt of his sword. They wrapped around his hands, preventing him from any proper form.
Ayda used her advantage to thrust forward, stabbing at Hùisdean’s immobile grip on his sword. As she launched towards him, Hùisdean shouted. Ayda didn’t understand the words he used, but before she could process them, her curse reflected on her. Her hands were tied to her sword’s grip; her magic suddenly felt foreign to her.
“What the fuck?” Ayda shrieked and started muttering counter-charms. The vines started to loosen, but the momentary distraction was all Hùisdean needed. She froze, overwhelmed by Hùisdean’s presence suddenly looming over her. They were both breathing hard, and the edge of his blade was pressed gently to Ayda’s neck. She dropped her sword, and the loud clattering sound of it hitting the polished floor echoed throughout the gym.
It was a full minute before either of them spoke. Ayda could feel the fatigue in her muscles turning into a different kind of heat, pinned to the spot under Hùisdean’s weapon. His shoulders were heaving with extortion, and his eyes were dark.
“I win,” Hùisdean whispered, barely loud enough for Ayda to hear him over her beating heart. Hùisdean swallowed thickly and dropped his weapon, the vines disappearing from their hands. He wiped his brow and turned around, walking away without glancing at Ayda. As he reached the gym door, he called out over his shoulder.
