AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Come on, lovebirds. Have some bacon.” Averett pointed at the plates he had set in a row on one of the benches, the pieces of bacon carefully distributed so that everyone got an equal number.
After claiming plates, Essie and Farrendel took seats on their bench, and everyone dished out their own portions of the eggs and vegetables sprinkled with cheese.
Essie picked up her bacon with her fingers while Farrendel cut his bacon into bite-sized pieces and ate it with his fork.
When he caught her looking, he shifted and held up his hand. “My fingers are not greasy. It is more sanitary.”
“Probably. But less fun.” Edmund licked the grease from his fingers.
Farrendel’s nose wrinkled, and he went back to eating his bacon with his fork.
“After breakfast, how would you like to join us at the training yard for a while? We usually practice with heavy cavalry swords, but you can use whatever you prefer.” Averett’s tone was almost too casual. After Farrendel’s display of his athleticism that morning, her brothers had to be wondering what he could do. Their king, tactician, and spy mindsets would want to take Farrendel’s measure.
Earlier, she’d worried about pitting Farrendel and her brothers on the training yard. But that was before everyone had seemingly bonded so well. Now, a little sword practice would bond them further.
Farrendel glanced at her and spoke in elvish. “Do you think it is a good idea?”
Essie smirked at him, answering in Escarlish so that all her brothers would understand. “I think it’s a great idea.”
Essie held the pairof practice swords Farrendel had chosen while he tightened a leather bracer on his forearm. When he struggled to tie the ends one-handed, she leaned the swords against the fence that surrounded the dusty, gravel covered training yard. “Here, let me.”
Farrendel remained still while she tied the laces, then moved on to his right arm to tighten that bracer and tie it off for him.
A few feet away, her brothers were drawing straws to see who would fight Farrendel first. On the far side the training field, a few soldiers marched in formation for drill. Their commander might as well call a halt now. His carefully disciplined troops were about to be thoroughly distracted.
Farrendel picked up the iron practice swords, moving them up and down as if testing their weight and balance. They were shaped like the swords the army carried for hand-to-hand combat, slightly longer than the swords Farrendel normally used, but single-bladed instead of double. The practice swords had their edges rounded instead of sharpened. They could still break bone if swung hard enough, but they wouldn’t cut or stab.
Farrendel glanced at the huddle of her brothers, where Julien triumphantly held up the short stick, before turning back to her. “How much should I hold back? Should I let him win?”
It was adorable—if a little heartbreakingly sad—how much Farrendel wanted her brothers to like him.
Essie patted his chest. “Don’t you dare let him win. They’ll respect you far more if you beat them fair and square than let them take a cheap victory.”
“You do not mind if I beat them?” Farrendel tested the swords’ weights again, something in his stance sliding into the cold grace of a prowling cat.
“I’m counting on it.” Essie kissed his cheek. “Just don’t humiliate them too badly, all right?”
Farrendel’s answering smile held a dangerous glint. He lightly bounded up and over the fence surrounding the training yard and faced her brothers. “To make this a fair fight, I will face all three of you.”
Julien raised his eyebrows. “You have a very poor opinion of our skills.”
“If he wants to fight all three of us, I say let him.” Edmund swung his practice sword through an arc.
Averett glanced at Essie and met her gaze. She nodded, then smirked. How long was it going to take Farrendel to disarm all three of them? Two minutes? One?
“Essie’s smirking. We probably should be worried.” Averett turned back to the others. “All right then, the rules.”
He went over the rules, which were mostly that an opponent was defeated once he was disarmed and a few other miscellaneous rules about what to shout to surrender and stuff like that. One of the guards was called over to make sure everything was done by the book.
Averett, Julien, and Edmund spread out, practice swords in one hand. Farrendel waited, a sword in each hand, crouched but not tense.
Essie leaned against the fence. Her brothers weren’t going to know what hit them.
The guard blew the whistle. Farrendel leapt forward, straight at Averett. Averett stumbled backwards, raising his sword. Farrendel parried Averett’s sword, kicked up from the ground, and used Averett’s chest as a springboard into the air.
Averett tumbled backwards, his sword flicked from his hand by one of Farrendel’s swords.
Flipping in the air, Farrendel ripped Edmund’s sword from his grasp with his twin swords and kicked Edmund solidly in the chest. The momentum sent Edmund toppling toward the ground while Farrendel landed in a crouch.
