“Again!” Bren shouted.
Claire raised the wooden sword in front of her as she charged at the General and swung it down at him. He blocked with the practice blade he’d borrowed from Aeron, sending a shock down her arm as they clashed. Quickly, she swung again but he blocked with ease as he evaded, knocking her sword away with his and brought the point up to her chin. Claire froze. Not again.
“You lose once more, my lady.” Bren’s eyes sparkled in amusement.
She let out a deep sigh as he lowered the fake weapon. They’d been practicing in the clearing for a little over an hour. Even though he was a gentleman, he wouldn’t let her win. Not even once. She wouldn’t learn if he did— according to him, anyway.
“How about a break?” she asked. All this losing wasn’t good for her confidence.
“I suppose.” He followed her to where their things lay on top of a fallen tree. “You know, when I trained, my teacher wouldn’t give me any breaks. Warriors don’t need breaks, he would say.”
Claire looked up at him and took a swig of water from a small flask. He’d joined the army as a young boy after he lost his parents to the red pox, rose through the ranks and eventually became an officer in the royal court. That was when he’d met Prince Philip, and according to him, the two became fast friends, spending hours sparring together. A detail she’d found particularly interesting. Aeron had given up trying to keep her away from Bren. Maybe he felt bad for her? Whatever the reason, she was grateful that he’d finally eased up a little. All afternoon the General had entertained her with stories of his past and the city of Lendon. He’d just recently been appointed the title of General after the position had suddenly become… available, as he so eloquently put it. He wanted to spare her the gruesome details.
“You forget, General. I am a lady, not a warrior.”
“Of course, Miss Claire.” He smiled at her. “That could explain why you keep losing.”
She glared up at him. She hadn’t expected that from him. Was she that easy of a target? “Were you this harsh on the prince?”
“Philip was always an adept opponent. He has a particular knack for fighting, a mind for it really. Something his father was never fond of.”
“Maybe King Harold wanted peace. Perhaps he just wanted to instill that into his son before he, uh… went.”
“This is true,” Bren nodded. “But there is nothing wrong with wanting to learn how to fight, to strategize, to defend your kingdom. A king that doesn’t know how to fight, will not remain a king for long. Sooner or later someone will try and take your kingdom. The elves learned that the hard way.”
Claire stared at him for a moment, studying him. Perhaps there was more to this man than meets the eye. To reach the honor of General at such a young age, there had to be. He couldn’t have just charmed his way to the top, though that was what she liked to believe. “Are you saying that I don’t have a knack for it, General?” she asked, bringing the topic back to the present to lighten the mood.
Bren laughed. “I do have to admit that you give it your all. You definitely have spirit.”
“Well, I’m sorry I don’t have years of training already.” She put her hands on her hips.
“It’s not only that you lack training, but you just charge at me without thinking. There’s more to sword fighting than strength and speed. If you don’t have a plan or some sort of strategy, you’re as good as dead.”
Claire relaxed, the irritation draining from her body. Well, now that he put it that way… Her hands fell from her hips as her shoulders drooped slightly. She certainly had a knack for being scolded, though.
“Isn’t that right, Farron?”
Claire’s attention snapped up to the General and she followed his gaze across the clearing. Farron leaned against a tree as if he’d been there all along. She could feel the irritation start in her stomach again. He’d avoided her the past few days, ever since the cursed field, and she’d tried her best to ignore the elf. What did he want now?
“I think strategy is a foreign concept to my lady,” he stated bluntly, as if it were a fact.
Heat spread over her, all the way up to her cheeks. She marched to the elf, fighting every instinct inside of her not to lunge at him. A million unpleasant phrases came to her mind, but she had to remember to be a lady. The General was present, after all.
“All right, if you’re so tough, why don’t you show me what you’ve got?” she challenged him.
“I don’t think that is such a good idea, my lady.” A smirk slid into place as he crossed his arms.
“Actually, it could be good for her to watch a friendly match.”
Farron shot an unfriendly glance in Bren’s direction. “I definitely don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Claire could hear Bren chuckle behind her.
“You’re not afraid, are you? I’m rather curious to see how the elves fight.”
The cold undertone in Bren’s voice made her look back at him, but his expression remained pleasant. Maybe she’d imagined it, although the tension in the surrounding air rose sharply. That wasn’t good. Men and their pride.
“Alright. Let’s see how good you really are, General.” Farron’s eyes had a sparkle in them. Definitely not good.
“Look, I was just kidding…” Claire began to protest, but it was too late.
Farron brushed past her, his right hand reaching over his shoulder to grip the hilt of one of the daggers strapped on his back. Her eyes grew wide. Should they use real blades?
Bren laughed nervously at the approaching elf with his hands held up in front of him. “Perhaps we should use the other kind.”
Farron paused, his hand hesitating on the handle. Then he shrugged and dropped his hand. Claire let out a breath at the same time, tense muscles relaxing. Well, that was a relief at least.
Bren handed Claire’s sword to the elf. Farron took it and started to test it out, swinging it around lightly.
“Now watch carefully, Miss Claire.” Bren bowed to the elf.
Farron just stood there, waiting for the General to begin.
This wasn’t going to end well. She had a feeling. It seemed like her woman’s intuition was finally kicking in. She backed up to the edge of the small clearing. There was no stopping it now, so she might as well enjoy the show.
The two pride filled males stood in the middle of the clearing. The forest around them had grown painfully quiet. Bren held his weapon up in front of him, both hands gripping the hilt. Farron still just stood there, sword hanging limply at his side in his right hand. They stood motionless for a few moments to stare each other down and size up each other’s egos. She hadn’t thought Bren had an ego, but she’d forgotten that every male had one. And Bren was no exception, no matter how charming he seemed to be.
Claire glanced between the two of them and waited for one of them to make a move. So, this was strategy. Exciting so far…
“Now, I want you to charge at me, like Miss Claire would,” Bren told the elf and held his blade out in front of him in defense.
Farron gave a short laugh. Claire crossed her arms. What was so funny?
“With pleasure.” Farron lunged forward suddenly and stabbed at the General.
Bren blocked Farron’s attack, evaded to the left and swung his sword at the elf. Farron dropped to his knee underneath the horizontal slash of the General’s weapon, then drove his up toward Bren’s chest, slipping past the General’s defense.
Bren leaped backwards, his eyes wide with surprise as he smacked Farron’s blade away with his. He backed up a few steps as the elf rose to his feet.
Claire tensed. Something didn’t seem right. Farron smirked at the General as he brought the sword up and pointed it at the other man.
“You got me,” Bren said, and the laughter faded from his face.
Farron glared at him, holding the blade in front of him, ready to go again. It was Bren’s turn to lunge forward. He swung at the elf but was blocked, the crack of the colliding woode
n swords echoed throughout the clearing. Bren swung again, stepping toward the elf and forcing him back to the line of trees, attacking with a relentless vigor, his movements swift and quick. Farron blocked the attacks, parrying the blows away with little effort and an amused expression. He was enjoying this a little too much.
The fighting duo disappeared into the trees, the lesson quickly spiraling out of control.
Worry gnawed at Claire’s mind. She was beginning to think that this wasn’t just a friendly match anymore. It was clear that the elf didn’t like the General, but he didn’t have to go this far.
The clacks of wood grew further away into the forest. Her feet lurched forward and carried her in the direction of the fight. She had to stop them before it escalated into something more serious. What was Farron thinking? He was in as much danger of exposing them as she’d ever been. It didn’t seem like him to lose control like that.
Claire rushed through the trees, following the loud cracks of the swords. She found them easily; Farron pursued Bren now, each swinging and parrying blows at a dizzying pace. She watched helplessly, not knowing how to stop them. Rushing in seemed too risky. She shouted at them, but was ignored. Their focus was lost to the fight, their attention locked on one another.
Farron knocked Bren’s sword away suddenly and sent it flying through the air. Bren stumbled backwards, shocked at the swift disarmament. His hand quickly grabbed for the gold hilt at his waist, but before he could draw it Farron threw his weapon to the side and kicked the General in the stomach, sending him backwards to the ground from the force. In a blur the elf drew both his daggers as he stepped on Bren’s chest, drawing one up to Bren’s throat while the other hovered above his chest. The movement was quick, effortless, and sent chills down Claire’s spine. He could have ended the fight long ago if he really wanted to. What was he trying to prove?
Farron gazed down at Bren with ice cold eyes, his face emotionless. Each of them remained still, waiting for one or the other to make a move.
“Farron!” Claire shouted in a shrill voice as she rushed to them. She reached out and gently placed her hands just below the elf’s elbow. She kept her eyes on his face as he stared down at Bren. He didn’t seem to notice her, even when she tightened her hands around his arm. “Farron,” she repeated in a calmer voice. She didn’t want him to make any sudden movements that could hurt the General.
Farron finally looked up at her and the tension eased out of him, muscles and shoulders relaxing a bit. He raised himself off Bren, lowered the blades and stepped to the side. He transferred the dagger in his right hand to his left and offered Bren a hand. Claire glanced down at the General for the first time. She’d been too nervous to take her eyes off of the elf before to notice his reaction. He wore an uneasy smile as he took Farron’s hand and was pulled to his feet.
Claire grabbed the elf by the arm and dragged him away while Bren brushed himself off. When they were at a safe distance, she stopped and spun toward the elf.
“What was that all about?” She glared up at him.
Farron grinned and shrugged his shoulders, daggers still in hand. “Just a little friendly competition.”
Claire sighed. He wasn’t as charming as he thought he was. “You could have hurt him.”
“To be fair, he was going to draw his weapon first.” The amusement faded from his face as he leaned in closer and pointed a dagger in Bren’s direction.
She jumped a little at his reaction, her eyes glancing nervously at the blades in his hand. It wasn’t that she was afraid of him, but his little display moments before had been frightening. Who knew what the elf was really capable of doing?
“I see.” The emotionless mask slipped back into place as he sheathed his weapons. “We should arrive in Sanre tomorrow.” He shot one last glance at Bren before he brushed past her into the forest.
Claire relaxed and let out a long breath before she made her way back over to the General, who was searching through the leaves for the practice blades.
“Sorry about that.” She laughed nervously. “He can get a little carried away sometimes.”
“I’m alright, Miss Claire.” Bren looked up from his search to flash her a wondrous smile. “I was just a little shocked. I hope you learned something from our little duel.”
“A little.” Not really, but she couldn’t tell him that. They put so much effort into it, after all. Even if it hadn’t truly been for her benefit.
She began to look around for her sword. It was a few paces away, buried beneath some leaves and dirt. She bent to pick it up and examine the damage done. Splinters stuck out from the edge and the black paint was rubbed away in several places. At least it was still in one piece. Either way, she’d better not let Aeron see it in such poor condition.
Bren had found Aeron’s, which had suffered a worse fate than hers. The end had split from the rest of it and hung on by a thin sliver. She took the pathetic looking stick in both hands. It was going to be fun explaining what had happened to it to Aeron. She sighed again. It was going to be a long night.