A Touch of Magic Read Free

straight up! Who knows? If you do good enough, he might even make you a captain or something!” Excitement crept into Bobby’s voice with every word, and the mood was infectious.
    “Yeah! That’s right!” said Randall. “Let’s show them what we’ve got!”
    Soon, both boys were suited up in a chest plate and helmet. The armor was way too big for either boy, but Bobby did a much better job of filling it out than Randall did. The helmet they gave Randall was so big that he had to tilt his head back to see out from under its edge, and the nose-guard on it came down to his chin. The wooden practice swords they were given were too heavy to be simply wood, and Randall guessed that there was probably a metal core inside to give it weight. It was a lot heavier than he expected, and a lot more unwieldy than it looked. The militia man named Harlowe gave each of them a brief lesson on how to hold their swords, how to parry a killing blow, and how to deliver a swing. He spoke loudly, pitching his voice to carry across the market, and a crowd started to gather to see the spectacle. He looked up once or twice, appearing to judge the size of the crowd. Once he appeared satisfied, he stepped back.
    “Let’s give these two fighting men some space! Okay gents, show us what you got!”
    Randall tried to step forward in the guarded manner that Harlowe had shown him, but he was having a lot of trouble with the oversized fighting gear. He felt like he was a big turtle, only his shell was two sizes too big. Even worse, the helmet had turned on his head, so that he had to hold his head cock-eyed to even see out of the thing. His first swing at Bobby missed by at least a foot, and the weight of the practice sword drug him in nearly a full circle. Even worse, the swing had spun his helmet even more off-center. Luckily, Bobby wasn’t faring much better, and his sword slipped from his fingers on his first swing, and hit the ground with a loud thunk. Some folks in the crowd laughed out loud, and others started to call out taunts and jeers to egg the boys on.
    By the time Randall had his helmet righted, Bobby had gotten his sword back in his hand. Randall swung hard, and the sword hit Bobby’s shoulder-guard with a ringing smack. Bobby staggered sidewise, but the shockwave that traveled up the sword, making Randall’s hand sting like fire. He dropped the sword with a cry, clutching his hand to his chest. Bobby charged, swinging wildly. He’d found the sword’s balance, it seemed, and his beefier frame gave him a definite advantage with the gear.
    Randall abandoned his sword and backpedaled furiously away from his friend. His retreat turned into a full rout as Bobby chased Randall around the fighting circle twice before tripping on a stone and falling down on his face. By now, the crowd was shrieking with laughter, pointing at both boys and taunting and jeering. Randall glanced over at the crowd as Bobby picked himself up.
    Oh no! Melinda was there. And she was pointing and laughing along with everyone else—watching him make a fool of himself. He’d wanted to prove that he had the stuff it took to be a soldier. All he was proving was how worthless he was, just like she always said. He was never going to be a soldier; he was never going to amount to anything! He’d certainly never be able to talk to Melinda again, after he’d unmanned himself so in her eyes.
    Suddenly, Randall realized that the militia man had never intended to make soldiers out of Randall and Bobby. All he wanted to do was put on a show at the boys’ expense. Randall felt the shame welling up in his face, and something else, too: rage. It just wasn’t fair! Born second, he always came second, never first. Nothing ever came easily to him. Nothing ever would.
    Determined not to cry, Randall forced his shame and anger down into his belly where it gelled into a lump of cold fury. He turned to face Bobby, empty hands clenched into fists. The rage continued to build inside