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She turned, and more from luck than skill caught the unsheathed sword Keegan tossed to her.
“Defend,” he ordered, and killed her before she managed to take her stance.
“I’ll be moving well away,” Morena decided.
“I wasn’t ready.”
“And so you’re dead, as you must always be ready. Pick up your sword, woman. Defend.”
This time, steel met steel, and the clash rang through the winter air.
He was relentless, he and the phantom enemies he conjured for her to battle. Dark faeries, demon dogs, crazed elves sprang up again and again.
Obviously it proved entertaining enough to bring Harken out of the barn so he stood with Morena and Finian, the pup—finally tuckered—between his legs and Kavan on his hip.
At some point while sweat ran into her eyes, Mahon flew over and dropped down to join the audience. Though the onlookers rooted for her enthusiastically, it didn’t do much to help.
She lost count of the number of times she perished.
She fought with sword, with magicks, with fists and feet. Though the blades striking couldn’t cut or gash, the fangs snapping, the claws raking couldn’t pierce skin, they bloody well stung.
By the time the day dropped into dusk, her whole body ached.
While she stood panting, her sword lowered with an arm she feared couldn’t lift a handful of feathers, he sheathed his own.
“You’re out of practice,” he decreed.
“I trained every damn day.”
“With this lot.” He gestured to their audience. “And they’re too easy on you, that’s clear enough.”
“You had her taking on five at a go,” Aisling called out. She, with the baby bundled into a sling, had come out to join the others.
“She’s the grand prize, isn’t she now? And if there’s a chance to separate and surround her, they’ll do just that. Coddling doesn’t sharpen skills.”
“Coddling my arse,” Harken objected. “She trained hard.”
“Not hard enough. She’ll do better tomorrow.”
“Ah, bugger it and you with it, Keegan. Come into the house, Breen,” Aisling invited. “Warm yourself by the fire and I’ll fix you something that’ll ease the aches you’re feeling.”
“I’m fine, but thanks.” Pride wouldn’t allow thecoddling. “I need to get home.”
“You did fine work against the were-bear and the fanged demon as well.”
“Thank you, Mahon.” She shoved the sword at Keegan. “Good night, everyone. Let’s go, Bollocks.”
She started across the road and prayed she could climb over the low wall without moaning out loud.
Keegan came up behind her and simply lifted her over.
“You should be training now with your own sword. You need to start wearing it when you come to Talamh.”
“I’m not a warrior.” She gritted her teeth as she climbed the steps to the tree, willed her legs to lift up to the low curving branch. “I don’t need to go strutting around with a sword.”
He passed through with her and into a misting rain.
“We have rotted roots yet to dig out, Breen. Being armed isn’t strutting about.”
