A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,108

said as he unbuckled his own weapons-belt and lay it alongside a rack of other scabbarded swords. “It’s wood for sparring, not steel.” He threw Drem a wooden practice sword. Drem caught it, to his surprise found it was heavier than his sword. He questioned Cullen about it.

“These wooden blades are drilled out, hollowed, and then lead poured inside,” Cullen said. “Train hard, fight easy.” He smiled. “After a moon in the field with this you’ll feel as if you’re wielding a feather when you use your blades of steel. And you’ll have wrists and arms of iron.”

And then Cullen came at Drem, using the forms they’d just practised in the sword dance, pausing between almost every strike, talking to Drem about his stance, his footwork, describing how he should blend it all into defence and attack.

Cullen started slowly, explaining the theory of every strike and defence after he executed them, but as time went on his attacks became faster, then combinations of blows, and Drem found himself sweating, managing to defend a few blows, but always the end was the same, Cullen’s sword giving him a bruise, or a touch to neck, heart or groin.

Cullen stabbed at Drem’s shoulder; as Drem swept his sword to block the blow, Cullen twisted his wrist, dropped his sword below Drem’s parry and stabbed him in the belly.

I am dead a hundred times already.

As they sparred Drem became aware of people gathering around them, of eyes on him.

“The power in a strike does not come from your arms alone,” Cullen said to Drem. “It’s more legs and hips exploding up, into and through your arms. And little steps,” Cullen added. “Never over-extend. Lose your balance, lose your head.” He grinned again, luring Drem into a lunge that ended with Cullen’s sword on the back of Drem’s neck.

“Drem, try fighting him with these,” a voice called out, and Drem turned, saw Keld throwing objects at him. Instinctively he caught the first, dropped his sword and caught the second. Looking in his hands he had wooden versions of a short-sword and axe.

“Closest thing I could find to the seax Olin forged for you,” Keld said. “Now put Cullen on his arse.”

Drem nodded his thanks. He didn’t really know what was expected of these weapons, had not learned any forms with them. But he was used to them, familiar through over a decade of use, even if it was only through trapping and hunting. And he had used them against Fritha and her Ferals.

Not that that turned out too well.

He glimpsed giants in the crowd around him, Balur and Alcyon there with Tain the crow master, all watching him and Cullen, and amongst them, Byrne, arms folded across her chest, face set in stern lines. A handful of women were all staring at Cullen, who was blowing them a kiss.

Drem set his feet, short-sword in his right hand, axe in his left.

Cullen grinned at him, circling, Drem shifting to face him.

Cullen lunged in, sword snaking out, cutting at Drem’s shoulder. Drem’s axe swept the blow wide, but somehow Cullen twisted his wrist, his sword suddenly below Drem’s axe and it was cutting in at his ribs. Drem threw himself backwards, narrowly avoiding the blow. Cullen was grinning, ear to ear, and striding at him. Drem retreated, a flurry of clacks as he managed to block a torrent of blows.

He didn’t know how long it went on for, only that his lungs were burning as he instinctively tried to stay alive a few heartbeats longer. The fact that Cullen was pausing for a heartbeat here and there to lavish a smile on someone in the crowd, or to wink at some female, gave him a few moments of recovery. Thoughts began to filter into his mind—Drem’s logic analysing how he was being manoeuvred and out-skilled.

He is dictating this, while all I do is defend.

“Get in close,” a voice called out, Keld, Drem thought.

He’s right, Cullen has the advantage of reach with his sword. If I am to score a hit, I must get closer to him.

And then Cullen was stepping in, a stab at Drem’s shoulder. Drem made to block it, recognized the feint Cullen had used on him when he had been using his practice sword. He parried with his axe, at the last moment dropping the angle, catching and hooking Cullen’s blade as it made to sweep under his arm.

There was a moment’s surprise on Cullen’s face, his grin wavering as Drem dragged him off