him onto the table. The move had been risky and dangerous. Julian was lucky to have escaped with a minor blow to the head, but it was a small price to pay, considering the reward. He smiled as he turned the key over in his palm, then placed it back into his pocket.
Chapter Fourteen
The sun had barely risen when Silas felt a sheathed sword land on his chest, waking him from his deep slumber. The weight was heavy and the wind was nearly knocked out of him. Through blurry eyes Silas was able to make out the hazy shape of Lorcan Zamire staring down at him with Coffman towering behind.
“If you’re going to make it out alive on our mission, you’ve got to know how to fight,” Lorcan said.
What was he talking about?
“I just want to see if you can handle yourself. Get up, meet me out at the pit in five minutes.”
Lorcan then turned and walked out with Coffman close on his heals. Why was Lorcan giving him such a hard time? Silas didn’t want to be on this job any more than Lorcan wanted him to. Perhaps Lorcan was afraid of being replaced. This was something that Silas was definitely not attempting to do. He had much more pressing matters than to worry about the politics of a shady mercenary group. Silas unsheathed the sword that Lorcan threw at him, studying the polished blade. It was crafted well, strong, and the handle formed to his hand comfortably.
He sat up, sheathed the sword and placed it next to him on the bed. He put on the clothes that Alric had provided him the night before, along with a snug pair of boots. He walked lightly out of the room and through the hallway so he would not wake anyone in the log cabin.
His sleep had been nice and deep, but he remembered that he did not have any dreams. This was not uncommon, but something that made him think. Do people dream in Marenon? Was there some sort of cloud that fogged the minds of individuals while they slept through the night? Perhaps he was just so tired from the previous day’s events that his mind didn’t have the energy to think. His stomach felt empty. If given the opportunity he knew he would be able to stuff his face until he was sick. He wondered what sort of breakfast would be prepared. He rubbed his hands through his thick blonde hair. If he wasn’t mistaken, he had just been challenged to a fight. He wasn’t sure what Lorcan was trying to prove here, but Silas had the feeling that he would do just fine in a fight. He had not been in a fair duel in two years, but was confident he could hold his own.
His eyebrows furrowed when he heard loud snores coming from the room to his left, knowing it had to be Alric and thinking that it surely couldn’t be Inga. Such a beauty could never produce that hideous grating noise.
He made his way through the front of the house and onto the grass. He looked to his right and saw Coffman standing over the pit saying something inaudible to Lorcan who was swinging his blade, preparing himself to fight. They both stopped and stared when they noticed him. Silas looked down at the sword in his hands and silently hoped that Lorcan wasn’t planning to make this a fight to the death. He had no desire to kill, but if Lorcan tried to finish him off, Silas wouldn’t hesitate to run him through with the long blade. He made his way to the square pit, neither of them saying anything as he approached. Coffman shifted his weight awkwardly and Lorcan watched intently as Silas approached.
Silas wasn’t sure what to say, so he blurted, “Nice morning for a duel, eh?”
Lorcan simply stared harder. “Shut up,” he said. “I want to see what you can do before we take you out on a job.”
“Is there a reason you want to see this at sunrise while Alric and Inga are asleep?” Silas asked incredulously.
A sly smirked crossed Lorcan’s face. “I guess I can’t pull one over on you, can I?”
“What do you want from me, Lorcan?”
“I want you to prove yourself. I want to be sure you aren’t going to screw this up.”
Silas had had enough. “Fine,” he said as he threw the sheath off the sword onto the ground. There was a ladder into the pit,