Michael A. Stackpole Read Free Page A

half step. This pulled my body out of line with his lunge, which was enough to defeat his attack. Dalt, seeing my move, started to recover and looked surprised when I brought my right arm up and carried his rapier with it. As the blade came up to the height of my shoulder, I locked our hilts and stepped forward, ducking beneath his arm.
    At least, that is what 1 meant to do. I had intended to twist his sword free from his grip, then whip my sword back across his unprotected flank, but he locked his wrist and used his incredible strength to prevent my move. His right knee caught me behind my left leg, driving me to my knees, then 1 felt the cool caress of his dagger on the side of my neck.
    “You’re dead, lambkin.” Exultant, Dalt threw back his head and laughed.
    His laughter died abruptly as an older, taller, more slender version of him chuckled aloud and approached the two of us. “And Locke has just guaranteed you will never sire any children.” Geoff pointed down to where my dagger, the blade lying flat against the underside of my forearm, required only the lifting of my arm before it gelded him. “I think the last laugh would be his.”
    “Laughter sounds hollow from the grave.” Our grandfather shook his head and looked quite disappointed at me and my brother. “Dalt, you are taller than Lachlan and have nearly six inches in reach over him. You should never have let him get in that close to you. And you, Lachlan, when will you learn that you are too small to play your strength against a larger, stronger opponent?”
    I started to protest. “But, I thought the sweat would loosen his grip. He would not expect it…”
    “Dalt has been trained by me, as have you. Do you let your hands get sweaty enough to have a blade twisted from them?”
    I looked down. “No, sir.”
    Audin nodded solemnly. “1 know you have heard heroic tales about your father or your uncle or the Valiant Lancers and the things they have done, but they are dead! They thought the same sort of thing you did. For every one of them that used an unusual move to gain fame, many died. 1 have taught you to be better than that.”
    “Yes, sir.” I stood and walked off the field of combat, my face burning.
    The slight breeze cooled me and made Grandfather’s wispy white hair float. “Dalt, you have won the fight with Lachlan. Now you will face Geoff. Let me see that you two have learned your lessons better than your younger brother.”
    1 laid my sword on the bench beside the water trough, then followed it with my dagger and sweat-soaked gloves. Bending over slowly to stretch out the muscle Dalt had kneed, I grabbed the edges of the trough and dunked my head full into the water. The cool water washed away the dust on my face and cooled some of the embarrassment.
    1 felt a hand on my back and came up with water dripping down over me. “Yes, Grandfather?”
    Audin’s brown eyes regarded me carefully. “Let me guess why you tried what you did with Dalt. You read about Driscoll dueling with the ‘giant’ of Port Chaos.”
    1 nodded sheepishly. “He’d hit the man in the forearm and the blood and sweat had loosened the man’s grip on his blade. Driscoll twisted the blade free, then stabbed him clean through his armpit. It should have worked against Dalt. I am better than he is.”
    The older man sat down on the bench. “You are ranked as an Apprentice and Dalt is ranked as a Sworder. He defeated you.”
    I held back because we had discussed this situation before. My grandfather, being the only Bladesmaster in Stone Rapids—and having owned his own sword school until about a dozen years ago—was the final arbiter of our rankings. If he decided, and he had, that I was not ready to progress from Apprentice to Journeyman or Sworder, nothing I could do would convince him. Especially failing at fancy tactics designed to shame your brother.
    “I am sorry, Grandfather, you are right.” I looked up at him and gave him a hopeful smile. “1 should