Eochaidh - Legend of the Horsemen (Book One) Read Free Page B

see straight,
he turned to see the large leather bag, suspended from a coarse rope, now
twisting harmlessly in the middle of the trail.
    “Walked right into it,” he muttered. “Didn’t I Galahad?”
    Using a stirrup, he pulled himself back up onto his feet and
reached down to pick up his walking stick. But before his fingers could reach
the polished wooden surface, he felt a sharp blow to the back of his knees. His
legs buckled, and he was sent sprawling into the decaying ground cover.
    “En garde ,” Meaghan cried out,
brandishing her walking stick like the finest sword while dancing around Lord
John.
    “How can I be en garde if you
won’t let me grab hold of my blasted stick?” Lord John growled.
    She raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps you should have thought of
that before you rode into my trap.”
    Lord John stared at the insolent scamp.   “And just what was in that bag? You nearly
took my head off.”
    Meaghan allowed a smile to cross her lips.   “It was Galahad’s feed bag filled with
grain,” she explained. “I thought that if you lost your way again, Galahad’s
keen sense of smell and overpowering desire to eat would bring you to me.”
    “Quite a sassy thing, aren’t you?” Lord John asked softly.
And then, with amazing dexterity and speed, he reached over, grabbed his staff
and slid it across the ground in one smooth move, sweeping Meaghan off her
feet.
    Meaghan fell but quickly rolled to the edge of the path and
jumped back to her feet.   She turned to
find Lord John standing opposite her on the path, body positioned in a
defensive stance.
    His right eyebrow lifted, and he nodded slightly as she
positioned herself in a similar position.   “We don’t have to do this,” he said. “You can surrender now…”
    With a cry of determination, she darted forward, holding her
stick in both hands. She swung her stick forward and barely missed his
arm.   Lord John lunged with his stick,
and Meaghan countered with hers.   The
crack of wood on wood echoed throughout the forest.
    Pulling back a step, she swept the stick sideways, but he
met her thrust with a block.   They
battled up and down the pathway for several minutes, thrust and lunge, parry
and riposte.   Meaghan’s hands were sore
from the vibrations of her stick being hit time and time again, but she kept
her grip tight and solid on her weapon. She moved back, drawing him down the
path until, finally, they ended up next to the fast-moving river.
    The water sparkled as it rushed over the pebbled creek bed,
around large rocks and fallen logs.   The
trees from the forest were reflected in its shallow surface, their green
foliage turning the color of the brook from clear to light green.
    Meaghan took a deep breath, and her nose was filled with the
scent of cool water and the moldering vegetation lying at its banks. But she
couldn’t pause to enjoy the sensation; she had to concentrate on defeating her
adversary. Once more, his stick struck against hers, and this time she stumbled
back, her breath coming out in gasps.
    He advanced, sensing her weakness, and she knew that his
size and strength would eventually give him the win.   But, she corrected herself, only if she
continued to rely purely on physical ability. She had worked too long to allow
something as inconsequential as size and experience to stop her.   She moved forward and allowed the edge of his
stick to catch on her shoulder.
    “ Owwwww !” she cried out in mock
pain.
    “Meaghan,” Lord John dropped his guard, “did I hurt — ”
    But before he could finish the sentence, Meaghan swept her
stick to the side, caught him behind the knees and tumbled him into the brook.
    The splash was quite loud and the spray of water so enormous
it soaked the front of Meagan’s shirt. Lord John fell hard, and he lay unmoving
in the fast flowing stream, the water rushing over his body. For a moment
Meaghan’s heart stopped. Had she really hurt him?   She started to wade into the stream when