Chapter Thirty-Nine
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The first time I strapped on the sword I felt like a bride with a carbuncle on her nose. Walkin’ across the blue-green field of grass with the sword swingin’ against my hip made me feel like the circus clown attemptin’ to fill in for the tightrope walker.
“So what are we about, Lord Nador?” I asked.
The man smiled. “When we’re alone, away from snotty Northerners at least, you can call me Selene.”
“Aye. So, what are we about, Selene?”
“This morning I wanted to club that silly Lucas. Giving a boy a man’s weapon—and don’t argue with me.” He held up a stiff, first finger. The gold and center ruby of his enormous signet ring glinted in the sun. “I understudied two hours, every day of the year, for a decade, and I wouldn’t even call myself a journeyman swordsman.”
We reached the edge of the massive barn and Selene pointed for me to follow beyond. The topic at hand obviously required privacy.
“A gentleman would never challenge a youth with no weapon. But not knowing where we’re going, whom you could be accosted by, I understand his argument that a blade might keep scoundrels from taking you on.
“But, oh, Lord, take heed what I’m going to say, lad.”
He stopped and turned to face me. The man wore a sad expression that sent a shiver across my forearms.
“If you face a true gentleman with a sword, if you have the option, turn and run, for you will have no chance. Promise me you’ll do as I say.”
“I can’t do that. I might be able to help you and Morgan—”
Selene shouted me down. “A senseless death is a pathetic death. One that serves nothing. If you can’t promise me this minute, I shall have Morgan summon one of your dragon friends to come take you home. Do you understand?”
I glared up at Selene, whose temple throbbed with that bulgin’ vein again. After a five-count, his face turned its natural, sun-beat color, and the vein subsided. There was no dismissin’ the man’s sincerity.
“Aye. I don’t like it, but I agree.”
“I’ll demonstrate the first defensive position, which could keep you alive for five or six seconds, if the man you face is a frog of a swordsman. As I said, though, run if you have the chance, eh?”
“Aye.”
Selene glared as though he considered repeatin’ the promise to send me away again. He motioned me to stand beside him, and we drew our swords together.
“The pivot point flows through your forearm. You go trying to fling the blade about and you’ll be as effective as a washwoman with a mop, eh?”
“Aye.” I raised my sword in front of me as Selene demonstrated.
“Some arch and flex in that elbow, lad.”
I mimicked Selene’s gestures.
“The fist is a pendulum that must pivot to keep the blade facing your foe,” Selene shouted as though tryin’ to drown out some background noise.
I struggled with the movement for five minutes, followin’ Selene’s silent instruction, until I had to drop my benumbed arm. After a minute, I hefted the sword, estimatin’ its weight. Lighter than it appeared, but the workin’ of it tired more quickly that I expected.
“I understand, lad. Speed is the means to survival, which entails building strength. I’m not joking when I say it takes years just to accomplish this first position.” Selene tapped me under my chin, promptin’ me to close my gapin’ pie hole.
Selene faced me, and ripped his fist left and right so briskly sword and hand was nothin’ but a blur. “I’m going to risk you snipping off your nose, lad. Give that a try.” He stepped away, not hidin’ his smirk very well.
I took a breath and raised the sword, twisted left and right six times as fast as I could. My face burst into flames, at least it felt as though it did, from the exertion, and embarrassment for the ineptitude of the motion. Neither was I fast, nor did I manage the blade. It wobbled all over the place. No wonder his nose crack.
“Ahh,” Selene groaned. “I worried about your nose, but you’re likely to take off your own head.” He didn’t smile. “Have you examined how sharp it is?”
I shook my head, and pressed my left thumb against the blade. Jerked back my hand. Blood lined my flesh.
“Aye,” Selene said. “Exercise the opening defensive position when you can find privacy in the future. You have an hour before we dine. Try not to cut off anything you wish to keep, eh?”
He walked away.
Loneliness crept over me as I watched the handsome Northerner walk away. I had missed conversin’ with the man, as we did that first week at Morgan’s cabin. We’d been so busy since, or too tired at night to move our jaws in any fashion other than to eat.
I lifted the sword and a twinge nipped the muscle that drapes over the cap of the shoulder. Tomorrow I’d have even more aches, which had nothin’ to do with ridin’ a stinkin’ horse.
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