Lair of Beasts [Book I in the Curse Of Blood Saga]

Chapter XII - Redweld Forest

Freddie, as Thomas and I were wont to call him for we knew how he loathed it, had lunged forward in a moment of rash eagerness, but Carac had arrested the younger man's blow with a mighty stroke of his own. Carac immediately deflected left, taking advantage of Freddie's blade that was still impaled in the dirt, to swing his sword across his body in a powerful arc and thereby mitigating a counter attack by placing his sword between himself and the squire. Carac then slammed the broad, unsharpened side of his weapon against Freddie's unshielded belly; an oversight I'm sure Frederick now regretted as he'd left the right side of his torso completely unprotected when he'd twisted to the left. The lad was wearing chainmail, but I knew, judging by the walloping he was receiving, that he would be riddled with bruises come suppertime.

"You are dead...yet again!" Carac's grin was as wide as if he were a hound in the chicken coop. I nearly laughed at seeing how furious young Frederick became.

"Concentrate! You need to work on your agility; you move about as swiftly as a bowl of gruel." Lucian walked forward and then, to emphasize what he'd said, slapped the flat side of his longsword against the back of the squire's leg.

I had only been here a short while, but had since counted one and twenty bruising hits. I watched eagerly as the next round of drills and instruction began.

"Bend your knees a little more, keep your elbows in a little closer to your body and, for God's sake, stop stretching your sword out; find your balance!" Although Lucian's voice was evenly modulated, I heard each word as though I were right beside him instead of hiding at the other end of the courtyard; for my hearing was that of a jackrabbit.

I caught myself admiring the effortless way he demonstrated to Frederick how best to wield his sword, each stroke adroit and powerful, and then I scowled — vexed anew; because my features, I was certain, had just been pulled into a look that was tantamount to adoration. That would not do! He deserved no such thing from me.

Lucian adjusted the young man's hold on the longsword: 'twas named thus for the long cruciform hilt that could easily accommodate a two-handed grip and was best suited to hewing, slicing and stabbing at the enemy. I shook my head and concentrated once again on what was yet being said within the sparring circle.

"Patience, Frederick! You might only ever get one chance and your erstwhile blunders have thus far cost you your life...thrice!" Lucian moved away, inching backwards as he added a few last words. "Now keep Carac on point, and do not be hasty." He paused a moment, Frederick's tension a palpable force. "Engage!" said he at last. The two instantly resumed their battle games by circling each other like menacing cockerels.

I noticed how Carac watched the younger man with keen patience, his cunning smirk so intimidating that I nearly wept for the lad. Nay, not really. 'Twas just desserts and Freddie was in desperate need of being brought down a peg.

"Stop dancing around him!" Lucian pinched the bridge of his nose in disfavor.

"I'm trying to distract him," his pupil repined nervously.

"Well you look like you're prancing around a maypole!" Lucian muttered, which had Caine bursting into laughter behind him, obviously enjoying his brother's trenchant tutelage. "Keep your torso aimed at Carac, watch his movements and counter his attack; right before strikes!"

Eventually the anxiety became too much for the squire and he leapt at Carac. Their swords crossed, each blade bisecting the other midway, and Frederick began straining and pushing hard against Carac's superior strength without much result. The giant played with the squire a little longer afore twisting his wrist; so his sharp end abutted Frederick's flat side. Carac slid his blade up so that the weaker tip of Frederick's sword now lay against the strongest and thickest part of Carac's: near the hilt.