Not Magic Enough and Setting Boundaries - By Valerie Douglas Page 0,25

charged toward her.

Her long hair flowing around her like liquid fire in the sunlight, Delae fended off one blow even as she arched to avoid another, the smith Dan swinging his mallet mightily, encircled by swordsmen.

As Dorovan rode toward the gate that was what he saw - he set heels to Charis’s ribs unnecessarily as the sound of battle rang in the air. Charis was stretched full out but the gallant Elven-bred reached farther.

His heart nearly stopped even as a part of him admired the wonder and beauty, the grace of Delae, her courage as she fought, always, against impossible odds.

Then his swords were in his hands. He spun the blades around them, bright Elven steel sending shards of light coruscating to splinter against the buildings.

It was that light that startled the raiders; it caught their attention, even as he shouted, “Delae!”

Hope against hope, Delae heard Dorovan’s familiar deep voice and cried, “Dorovan!” even as she spun away from the third raider, dodging the leader as he rode down on her.

The leader turned at the shout, his eyes widening as he looked up to see an Elven warrior bearing down on him.

In an instant, two of his men fell to the Elf’s swords as the Elf’s horse spun, its feet lashing out to send one of those battling the smith flying.

With a roar, the leader set his spurs to his horse and charged as his men scrambled to rally themselves.

At the last minute he threw himself off his horse - dodging the Elf’s blades - scrambling out of the way as his horse slammed into the huge Elven-bred.

Prepared for the impact, trained for it, Charis braced, staggering only a little as he drove the lesser beast off with teeth and hooves.

Dorovan was off the horse in one smooth motion, striding across the quadrangle as the bandit leader ducked behind the shelter of his men. They came at him.

Against swordsmen of such little skill as these, it was hardly a contest. Dorovan was Elf, Swordmaster for Talaena. These were bandits with no skill and less training.

Spinning in, dropping low, Dorovan ducked one sword and parried another effortlessly before his longsword took one even as he went beneath the other man’s guard. His shortsword took that one as he turned another’s blade with a flick of his wrist. One staggered back, mortally wounded. The other two were already dead.

He advanced on the leader.

“Dorovan,” Delae shouted, seeing a bandit behind him, preparing to throw his sword like a javelin.

It was like watching a dancer, Dorovan was so smooth as he spun and turned to avoid the thrown blade.

To Dorovan’s alarm, he saw the leader smile.

From the corner of his eye he saw one of the men charge Delae, catching her around the waist from behind, lifting her from the ground. But the man hadn’t caught her arms. Or the sword in them.

She arched backward, driving her sword back over her head to glance off that of the man who held her.

With a shriek, the man released her.

Dropped to her feet, she spun, cleaving the man’s head from his shoulders.

His swords at ready, Dorovan advanced slowly as Delae ran lightly but swiftly to join him, waiting until she had his back.

The leader of the bandits and the remainder of his men charged.

Dorovan wove a curtain of steel around them, moving and turning as blood flew and men screamed - Delae fighting at his back, keeping it safe.

These, unskilled and untrained, were nothing against an Elven Swordmaster and his friend-of-the-heart.

Then there was only the leader left and Delae stepped away, however much her heart was in her throat, even knowing Dorovan was Elf, to leave this for him to do.

Once more she was caught by the beauty and grace of him as the leader of the bandits screamed and charged, hammering blows on Dorovan’s swords.

Dorovan simply parried and then his blade flicked. The bandit leader staggered. Dorovan stepped cautiously away, sheathing his swords as he reached for Delae.

Blood gushed but the bandit appeared not to notice it as he toppled.

Delae went into Dorovan’s embrace with relief, pressing her face into his chest.

“How did you know?” she asked.

Looking down at her, Dorovan said “You are the friend-of-my-heart, my only bond and you are loved. You were hurt and so I came.”

A little frown crossed her face. “But it would’ve taken days…”

Her breath caught, remembering, knowing what it was he’d sensed and she pulled away, color draining from her face, shame and horror piercing her…

Dorovan caught her,