She flattened her lips as Ardahl tapped her on the left shoulder with Conall’s blade. Light as the blow was, it hurt. She would likely have a bruise there.
Bruises everywhere.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t warned her. “I do no’ wish to hurt ye, Liadan. But training does hurt.”
It did.It did.
They circled. One of the first things he’d told her: keep moving. It made a more difficult target. The second thing:Whatever ye do, never let the enemy disarm ye. Disarmed, ye are likely finished.
Since the beginning he’d sought to do just that—disarm her. Taps with Conall’s blade upon his. Swoops and clangs, harder. So far she’d managed to hold on, though the blade felt progressively heavier and heavier.
“What are ye doing?”
The bellow halted both of them. Dornach came striding up, an incredulous look on his face. Gratefully, Liadan let her blade sink to the turf.
Dornach swept Liadan with one disbelieving glance before focusing on Ardahl. “What is this, then?”
Ardahl flung his braided hair behind him. Another lesson—Liadan should have braided her own hair as well as his. It kept getting in her eyes.
Next time.
And aye, though she hurt, there would be a next time.
She stepped up to face Dornach. “I wanted to learn how to fight. I asked Ardahl to show me.”
Dornach turned on her. He sought visibly for words to say. “Ye? Ye’re naught but a slip o’ a thing.”
“My brother was a fine warrior, aye? And my father. Generations back. Why should I no’ fight?”
Instead of answering, Dornach eyed the weapon in her hands. “Ardahl, is that no’ your sword?”
“It used to be,” Ardahl replied somberly, “before I took up another. Now ’tis hers.”
Dornach gave him a long look, and Liadan wondered what he saw. “And d’ye expect her to face an enemy?”
“Enemies will come,” Ardahl told him. “She will face them one way or t’other, with or without a sword in her hands.
“Madness,” Dornach breathed.
The crowd of onlookers had stilled. Now one woman, a bit older than Liadan and with a child at her side, called out, “Aye, Master Dornach—and what are we women to do when an enemy appears at the door? How to defend our wee ones? I would fight also if I had a sword.”
Murmurs from other women supported her words.
Dornach shook his head. “Do your men no’ step out to defend ye? ’Tis the way o’ it!”
“’Tis the way it used to be, aye,” Liadan heard herself say. “Now we are here and vulnerable while our men are away. The fight comes to us.”
Dornach’s hard expression softened just a mite. “I understand these are difficult times. But we canna have this sort o’ thing. Ardahl, ye will cease wi’ this nonsense at once.” He reached out for Ardahl’s sword. “And I will tak’ this for safekeeping. Before,” he added deliberately, “someone loses her head.”
Liadan snatched the sword away. “Nay.”
Dornach’s dark eyes narrowed. “What did ye say to me, woman?”
“’Tis no’ yours to take. It was Ardahl’s. It is now mine.”
Dornach looked taken aback. He actually stumbled a step away from her.
“Aye,” called another of the women, “’tis hers. Are we now to lose our possessions as well as our lives?”
