Lachlan and I.
Harald flits from group to group, inciting anger, or correcting forms. Most of it just incites anger.
Swords clash, spears whirl around, and grunts reverberate.
I take a deep breath, trying my hardest to silence the world around me to focus on my powers. My failure to fly still weighs heavily on me, like an oppressive fog it clouds my mind. But I master my breathing and do my best to clear it away.
My skin tingles. Lachlan’s planned moves spark in my mind before they happen. I move accordingly, blocking each blow. A grin spreads across his face.
“Good,” he breathes.
The glow from my skin bounces off his green eyes, making them look mystical.
I lunge at him, raising my axe up at the same time.
He swings his sword down, blocking the attack easily, and he doesn’t rebound as hard as Julius once had. His arms flex, the muscles rippling with the movement. It would normally be an enjoyable sight, but he fights with his wings out. The gleaming feathers in the sun’s rays are another reminder of my shortcomings.
He takes a step towards me, our weapons still locked together. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes as his lips pull to one corner.
“Good, but not great,” he says. Harald stops near us, his brows knitting together as he watches.
Anger floods me and before I can stop myself I throw my head forward, headbutting the smirk off his face.
Lachlan stumbles backward, his eyes flaring with shock. But Harald clutches his stomach as he shakes with laughter. “I’ve seen many a shield-maiden do that. Watch out for your balls next!”
A laugh erupts out of Lachlan, tumbling straight from his chest.
“I take it back!” He laughs. “You’re doing great.”
His words barely permeate the fog of fury that surrounds me. I am furious—with everything. With our situation we find ourselves stuck in, the trials we’ve already gone through, withmyself for not mastering flying. With the very gods who are not here when we need them.
I am angry.
Widening my stance, I prepare once again, and tune everything outside of us out. I say nothing to Lachlan and he grins fiendishly.
“Great for a lass.”
I explode.
Throwing myself and weapons at him in a chaotic mess of wrath. Lachlan stays cool and collected, batting my advances away with ease.
I see red.
All the stress, anxiety, fear, and guilt flood my senses. I don’t control my breathing, or even see his moves before they happen.
I work purely on unreliable, messy instincts.
And it fails.
Lachlan lets me wear myself out against his blade. He takes a calculated step to the side and doubles back, tripping me up.
I fall flat on my back, having tripped over my own gods damned feet like a novice.
My breathing comes out in gasps as I choke on the cloud of dust that floats up around me.
Lachlan squats beside me, resting his elbows on his knees before reaching out with a hand to tap my nose.
“Ye alright?”
