by Mary Sutton / @mary_sutton73
I leave for a fun-filled writing weekend in a few hours, but I leave you with a second excerpt from the upcoming ebook, Power Play: Hero’s Sword Volume 2. In this scene, Jaycee facts a test with the sword – a test that could make the difference in proving that she is indeed Lyla Stormbringer.
If you missed the first excerpt, read it here.*************
We walked back to the manor grounds, the crowd following. I could hear bits of conversation, people debating whether or not I was Lyla Stormbringer. I took this as progress. When I’d arrived no one had believed me. At least people were wondering now.
The practice ring was a circle approximately fifty feet in diameter with a raised border. Roger stepped into the ring and motioned for me to follow. “Lyla Stormbringer is a fearsome blade,” he said, making sure the entire crowd could hear. “It is only fitting, therefore, that she have a strong opponent, someone who can challenge her – me.” Roger unsheathed the sword on his hip and bowed.
I fought to keep my face expressionless. I had to fight Roger? On the one hand, this was good because I was sure he wouldn’t kill me. On the other hand, I was also sure he was a pretty good swordsman himself, so he wouldn’t give me a break either. I flexed my hands, drawing in deep breaths and trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach.
I drew my own blade. The leather-wrapped hilt felt good in my hand, like it belonged there. The sword was neither too light nor too heavy, and the sunlight shone off the blade. I rolled my wrist a couple times, drawing circles in the air. It felt natural. I smiled, swung my sword up in a salute, the way I saw in the movies, and bowed. Roger also smiled and we stepped into a ready position.
This might be fun. Then Roger attacked and I changed my mind. This might be deadly. Roger hadn’t been kidding, he was good and it took all that I had to block his flurry of attacks. There were a couple of times that I thought he’d get me, but he didn’t. I was sure I was working on reflex alone, because it wasn’t skill.
I had never swung a real sword. The closest I’d gotten was when I played Zelda on Stu’s Wii. Believe me, swinging a video game controller is not training for swinging a real sword. Roger chased me all over the ring, blows coming at my head, side and feet. I was managing, but barely. It was just a matter of time before he scored.
Once again, the muttering started. Whatever street cred I’d earned at the archery range was almost gone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the guy from the range elbow his neighbor and smirk. For some reason, that made my blood boil. A balloon rose in my chest and a ringing started in my ears. Enough was enough. Roger might beat me, but I wasn’t going to lose looking like a fool.
I went on the attack. The more I swung at him, the more Roger smiled. But I didn’t think it was the same kind of smile as the people watching. He looked pleased. I pressed him harder and sweat started to form on his brow, and the smile disappeared as he frowned in concentration.
I lost track of time, so I couldn’t tell you how long Roger and I stomped across that ring. He swung at my head and I ducked. I swung at his feet and he jumped. I blocked a wicked strike that would have carved a chunk out of my chest. I recovered quickly, faked a blow to Roger’s right and swung at his left side. He also reacted quickly and blocked my swing.
Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes and I could feel my shirt sticking to my back. I should have been terrified, but I’d never had so much fun. A fierce confidence that I’d never felt before burned in my chest. I still might lose, but I knew I was putting on a show.
After who knows how long, I saw my opening. I took a quick swing toward Roger’s head, but instead of swinging again when he blocked, I slid my blade down his and flicked my wrist in a circle. The move trapped Roger’s sword and twisted it out of his hands. It flew to the side and I held my sword inches from Roger’s throat. I was soaked with sweat and breathing like a sprinter after a race, but I smiled like I’d just been told I would be free of homework for the year.
Roger was also soaked, but his smile stretched across his face and his eyes twinkled. He nodded and I dropped my sword. He retrieved his own blade and we bowed to each other. I was breathing too hard to speak, but Roger held up my sword hand. “I declare this test passed,” he said, his voice ringing with something I could have sworn was pride. I bowed to the crowd.
“And now for the final test,” Roger said. “A test of wits.”
I was flying high. After the bow and the sword, I figured this would be cake. Boy, was I wrong.