Mathieu (White Flame Trilogy) - By Paula Flumerfelt Page 0,65

shoulder before rotating the blade and bringing it back up in an upward cut. The movement was slow and deflected easily, but the blond smiled approvingly. Okay. This time he was on the offensive, making the first swing aimed for the other man’s head.

Solomon easily avoided all of Mathieu’s blows; however, the blond man watched each thwarted attack, noting that Mathieu was slowly picking it up the use of a real sword.

Mathieu’s endurance was not used to standing up to the weight of a real sword, or his time spent in Korinth not practicing. His already rather slow attacks were becoming glacier drift slow, but he tried to not let it get to him. Irritation flowed through him at the fact that he hadn’t landed a single blow. Soon, Mathieu’s shoulder was having a hard time finding the strength to heft the blade up into a guarded position, and his effort began to diminish. Each swing was providing a dull ache and he was panting heavily, sweat darkening his hair to a grayish color.

“We’ll need to work on endurance.” Solomon pointed out with a smirk and took a quick step before spinning on his heel, bringing the weapon in a wide, sweeping arc that Mathieu just managed to duck under.

A sound of indignation left Mathieu’s mouth. “Hey, that wasn’t fair! I wasn’t ready…”

“Do you think a real enemy will be worried about whether or not you’re ‘ready’? Expect to not see it coming, especially when you are becoming fatigued. Quit thinking. React.” With that, the blond narrowed his eyes and began a barrage, coming at Mathieu hard and fast. He wasn’t giving an inch, pressing the other back until he hit a wall.

Mathieu groaned, body protesting his sudden retreat. His back was to a wall, literally, and he wasn’t sure if the blond man would really hurt him or not. Solomon wasn’t relenting, so he was inclined to believe he would. Mathieu closed his eyes for a single moment, taking a deep breath. He swung the sword wildly to gain some breathing room and managed to get a foot or two away from the wall, using the time to fortify his defense. Mathieu was done playing around, and it was about time for him to use his gift. Energy slid down his arm and wrapped around the blade, infusing it with extreme strength. This time, when he swung to meet the blow of the other, the backlash wasn’t so bad, his energy crackling as it absorbed it. The tides were quickly turned, Mathieu now having Solomon backing up, albeit much slower than the reverse.

Things were going well until a particularly awkward clang of steel on steel left them both reeling. A weird strain on his wrist told him that he’d hurt himself. “Damn it…” Mathieu bit out, let the sword drop to the floor. It kind of stung to wiggle his fingers and he rubbed at his wrist.

Solomon set his sword down and reached out, taking Mathieu’s wrist firmly in a callused hand. “Hm.” He twisted and turned it. He poked and prodded. “It’s a sprain.” The blond said with a sigh. “We’ll wrap it and see if Elric will heal it, okay?”

Rolling his eyes, Mathieu yanked his hand from the blond, wrapping his fingers around his hurt wrist and closed his eyes. The soft glow of energy filled the gaps between his fingers, illuminating his skin. It took only moments before the effect took hold and his wrist felt fine again. “There. All better.”

Sharp green eyes surveyed him, judging. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“I’ve always been able to. I used to fight a lot with a kid I knew.” Shrugging, he swiped the sword off the floor. “These things are pretty heavy. Not standard steel. Energy stone infused, I’m guessing.”

The blond simply grunted at his explanation to his healing. “That’s very perceptive about the sword. Yes; Lenore makes them that way because they’re stronger. And she makes each person’s unique to them, compatible to their gift.”

Mathieu smiled. “Oh? Then show me yours.”

Solomon hesitated, giving him a curious look. “Well…Alright.” Solomon left Mathieu to cross the room. Along one wall was a panel of white steel cabinets. Each tall, thin cabinet had a name engraved on it. The blond man stood before his and pressed his hand to it. After a moment, it clicked open; inside was a pair of hooked swords. Solomon withdrew them and carried them back with him. One was held out to Mathieu. “Be