Read Online The Usurper by Rowena Cory Daniells - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rowena Cory Daniells
Tags: Fantasy
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mother all over again,' Narrows muttered. 'I considered myself lucky to win that mountain girl.'
When Byren looked back, Florin was already moving, watching her opponent closely. Winterfall's sword was almost as tall as him. The length meant once he was committed to the attack, if he did not strike home, he had to follow through, adjust his stance and bring the sword around for another strike.
Florin avoided the first blow and took the opportunity to step in. She brought the top of the staff over, clipping him lightly on the head. It was only a tap but the message was there. She could have knocked him out.
Perched on a fallen tree, Leif cheered. Byren's honour guard and the other would-be-warriors were ominously silent.
Florin's concentration didn't lapse.
Winterfall shook his head and gripped the sword more securely, obviously adjusting his attitude as he eyed her warily. He stood half a head shorter than Florin, but with twice the breadth of shoulders, and Byren knew he would hate being bested by her.
Florin waited for his strike, which seemed to infuriate Winterfall, for he glared and took a swing at her that would have knocked her off her feet, if it had connected.
She darted back, brought the end of her staff up, point-on, and thrust so that it darted in, striking him in the chest. If she'd delivered it full strength it would have been enough to wind him. As it was it only angered him.
Byren recognised the signs. Florin thought ahead, while Winterfall was reacting. This was not going to end well for him.
'Perhaps I should call a stop,' Narrows muttered.
Byren touched his arm, giving a slight shake of his head. 'It'll be hard for court-raised warriors to accept a female in their ranks. This isn't the uncivilised spars where women fight alongside their men -'
'Half the time, they have no choice,' Narrows said.
Byren conceded the point. 'But Florin chose this. If she wants their respect she has to earn it. And Winterfall's a good lad. He's big enough to take this.' Byren only hoped he was right.
While they were speaking, Winterfall had attacked again. Florin side-stepped and, in the same fluid movement, swung the end of her staff down hard on his forearm. Byren could hear the impact as Winterfall's sword fell from his numbed hand.
Then she used the staff to sweep his legs out from under him. Winterfall fell back onto compacted snow, the air leaving his lungs in a grunt of surprise. Florin rotated the staff in her hands, bringing the point to his throat.
Then she lowered the point, grinned and offered Winterfall her hand.
The watchers held their breath. Byren knew this was the real test. His honour guard respected Winterfall, so they would follow his lead.
The youth sucked in greedy breaths, face flushed with exertion and anger. Florin's place in Byren's loyalists hung in the balance. Then Winterfall's expression lightened and he lifted his hand.
Florin hauled him upright, clapping him on the back. But he brushed her hand aside and stalked back to his companions, leaving her alone on that side of the clearing.
As Byren sucked in his breath, he realised Old Man Narrows was doing the same. Winterfall's bruises were not only physical.
Byren tapped Old Man Narrows on the shoulder. 'Here, give me your staff.'
Grabbing the staff, he trotted down the slope to enter the clearing. 'My turn. Let's see if I can get the hang of this weapon.'
Florin turned to him, clever eyes troubled. Clearly, she realised he was trying to smooth things over. Next thing he knew, her prickly pride would make her refuse his suggestion.
Byren weighed the staff in his hands, addressing the lads behind her. 'A man never knows when he's going to be caught without his sword. If he can pick up a lump of wood and turn it into a weapon, he's always armed.' He met Florin's eyes. 'Come on.'
She smiled, dropping into a bent-kneed, loose-limbed stance.
His honour guard edged back to give them room, shouting advice. Some of it ribald, as one
When Byren looked back, Florin was already moving, watching her opponent closely. Winterfall's sword was almost as tall as him. The length meant once he was committed to the attack, if he did not strike home, he had to follow through, adjust his stance and bring the sword around for another strike.
Florin avoided the first blow and took the opportunity to step in. She brought the top of the staff over, clipping him lightly on the head. It was only a tap but the message was there. She could have knocked him out.
Perched on a fallen tree, Leif cheered. Byren's honour guard and the other would-be-warriors were ominously silent.
Florin's concentration didn't lapse.
Winterfall shook his head and gripped the sword more securely, obviously adjusting his attitude as he eyed her warily. He stood half a head shorter than Florin, but with twice the breadth of shoulders, and Byren knew he would hate being bested by her.
Florin waited for his strike, which seemed to infuriate Winterfall, for he glared and took a swing at her that would have knocked her off her feet, if it had connected.
She darted back, brought the end of her staff up, point-on, and thrust so that it darted in, striking him in the chest. If she'd delivered it full strength it would have been enough to wind him. As it was it only angered him.
Byren recognised the signs. Florin thought ahead, while Winterfall was reacting. This was not going to end well for him.
'Perhaps I should call a stop,' Narrows muttered.
Byren touched his arm, giving a slight shake of his head. 'It'll be hard for court-raised warriors to accept a female in their ranks. This isn't the uncivilised spars where women fight alongside their men -'
'Half the time, they have no choice,' Narrows said.
Byren conceded the point. 'But Florin chose this. If she wants their respect she has to earn it. And Winterfall's a good lad. He's big enough to take this.' Byren only hoped he was right.
While they were speaking, Winterfall had attacked again. Florin side-stepped and, in the same fluid movement, swung the end of her staff down hard on his forearm. Byren could hear the impact as Winterfall's sword fell from his numbed hand.
Then she used the staff to sweep his legs out from under him. Winterfall fell back onto compacted snow, the air leaving his lungs in a grunt of surprise. Florin rotated the staff in her hands, bringing the point to his throat.
Then she lowered the point, grinned and offered Winterfall her hand.
The watchers held their breath. Byren knew this was the real test. His honour guard respected Winterfall, so they would follow his lead.
The youth sucked in greedy breaths, face flushed with exertion and anger. Florin's place in Byren's loyalists hung in the balance. Then Winterfall's expression lightened and he lifted his hand.
Florin hauled him upright, clapping him on the back. But he brushed her hand aside and stalked back to his companions, leaving her alone on that side of the clearing.
As Byren sucked in his breath, he realised Old Man Narrows was doing the same. Winterfall's bruises were not only physical.
Byren tapped Old Man Narrows on the shoulder. 'Here, give me your staff.'
Grabbing the staff, he trotted down the slope to enter the clearing. 'My turn. Let's see if I can get the hang of this weapon.'
Florin turned to him, clever eyes troubled. Clearly, she realised he was trying to smooth things over. Next thing he knew, her prickly pride would make her refuse his suggestion.
Byren weighed the staff in his hands, addressing the lads behind her. 'A man never knows when he's going to be caught without his sword. If he can pick up a lump of wood and turn it into a weapon, he's always armed.' He met Florin's eyes. 'Come on.'
She smiled, dropping into a bent-kneed, loose-limbed stance.
His honour guard edged back to give them room, shouting advice. Some of it ribald, as one
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