Read Online The Warlock in Spite of Himself - Warlock 01 by Cristopher Stasheff - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cristopher Stasheff
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, American Science Fiction And Fantasy, Gallowglass; Rod (Fictitious character), Warlocks, Gallowglass; Rod (Fictitious c
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you'd not leave your horse untethered.'
Rod threw him a saccharine smile and called out, 'Fess, back up four feet, take a half step to the left, come forward four and a half feet, then stand till I call you.'
The sentry stared, mouth gaping open, as Fess executed the maneuver with machine-like precision.
'I'm a soldier,' said Rod, 'and a good one.'
The sentry's mouth opened and closed like a fish's. His eyes bulged slightly as they flicked over Rod's lean frame, the black-gloved hand on the pommel of the sword.
'You see,' Rod explained, 'I might have need of my horse. It s easier to let him come to me.'
His right hand jumped out in a feint. The soldier grunted with surprise and stepped back as Rod's foot snaked out to catch him behind the ankle. The sentry went down in a clatter of tinware. Rod twisted the pike from the sentry's hands as he fell and threw it back under the portcullis.
'Now,' he said, 'let's try it again, shall we?'
'Well done, oh! Well done, my master!' Big Tom pounded his nag's withers, grinning from ear to ear.
The sentry staggered to his feet, shouting, 'A rescue! A rescue!'
'Oh, no!' Rod dropped his forehead into his palm. 'Oh, no!' - shaking his head.
He leaned back against Fess' shoulder and folded his arms. Three guardsmen came running up, pikes at the ready. The leader looked from Rod to the sentry, back to Rod, then back to the sentry. He frowned.
'What need for a rescue?'
The sentry fluttered a hand in Rod's general direction. 'This man...'
'Yes?' Rod smiled.
'Why, he knocked me down, that's what he did, and took my pike from me!'
'I wouldn't brag, if I were you,' Rod murmured. Big Tom bent low over his saddlebow, convulsed with silent laughter.
'Is that the truth of it, man?' The leader glowered at Rod.
'True.' Rod bowed his head.
'Well, then!' The leader straightened, planting his fists on his hips and scowling.
'Well, what?' Rod raised an eyebrow.
The sergeant was beginning to get flustered. 'Well, what's your reason?'
'I wish to enlist in the Queen's army. This man-at-arms indicated I should prove myself.'
The sergeant looked from the flabbergasted sentry to Rod, and nodded.
'You'll have your chance,' he said. 'Come.'
The chance consisted of a hulking sergeant equipped with a broadsword and buckler.
'Will you not take a buckler, man?' growled the old knight who was Master of the Guard.
'No thanks.' Rod slipped his dagger from its sheath. 'This will do me quite well.'
'Naught but a poniard and a wisp of a sword 'gainst broad-sword and buckler!' Sir Mans shook his head sadly. 'You must truly wish to die young!'
Rod's eyes widened in surprise. 'Thank you,' he said. 'I haven't been told I looked young since I was thirteen.'
'Well, cross your swords,' Sir Mans sighed. Rod and the sergeant complied; Sir Mans limped forward, his own broad-sword coming up to separate their blades.
The sergeant's broadsword swung up for a full-armed chop. Rod took advantage of the moment's delay to feint once at the sergeant's belly. The buckler dropped down to catch the
sword-tip, and Rod's blade leaped over the sergeant's arm to rip the cloth over his heart.
'Hold!' cried Sir Mans, and the sergeant's broadsword paused in midchop. He dropped his buckler, staring about him. 'Wot 'appened?'
'Had this Gallowglass not fought in sport alone,' said Sir Mans, thou wert a dead man this day, Sergeant Hapweed.'
He scowled at Rod, puzzled. 'Who would ha' thought to use a sword's point?'
'Shall we have at it again?' Rod's blade whined through the air and slapped against his leg.
Sir Mans studied Rod's face, his brow furrowing. 'Nay,' he said, lifting his head. 'I'll warrant you're a swordsman.'
'Aye,' muttered Big Tom, and Sir Mans glanced over at him; but the big man was only beaming with pride.
The Master of the Guard turned and caught up a quarter-staff. 'Here!'
He tossed it to Rod. 'We'll try you with this.'
Rod sheathed his dagger and caught the staff by the middle. He slipped his sword
Rod threw him a saccharine smile and called out, 'Fess, back up four feet, take a half step to the left, come forward four and a half feet, then stand till I call you.'
The sentry stared, mouth gaping open, as Fess executed the maneuver with machine-like precision.
'I'm a soldier,' said Rod, 'and a good one.'
The sentry's mouth opened and closed like a fish's. His eyes bulged slightly as they flicked over Rod's lean frame, the black-gloved hand on the pommel of the sword.
'You see,' Rod explained, 'I might have need of my horse. It s easier to let him come to me.'
His right hand jumped out in a feint. The soldier grunted with surprise and stepped back as Rod's foot snaked out to catch him behind the ankle. The sentry went down in a clatter of tinware. Rod twisted the pike from the sentry's hands as he fell and threw it back under the portcullis.
'Now,' he said, 'let's try it again, shall we?'
'Well done, oh! Well done, my master!' Big Tom pounded his nag's withers, grinning from ear to ear.
The sentry staggered to his feet, shouting, 'A rescue! A rescue!'
'Oh, no!' Rod dropped his forehead into his palm. 'Oh, no!' - shaking his head.
He leaned back against Fess' shoulder and folded his arms. Three guardsmen came running up, pikes at the ready. The leader looked from Rod to the sentry, back to Rod, then back to the sentry. He frowned.
'What need for a rescue?'
The sentry fluttered a hand in Rod's general direction. 'This man...'
'Yes?' Rod smiled.
'Why, he knocked me down, that's what he did, and took my pike from me!'
'I wouldn't brag, if I were you,' Rod murmured. Big Tom bent low over his saddlebow, convulsed with silent laughter.
'Is that the truth of it, man?' The leader glowered at Rod.
'True.' Rod bowed his head.
'Well, then!' The leader straightened, planting his fists on his hips and scowling.
'Well, what?' Rod raised an eyebrow.
The sergeant was beginning to get flustered. 'Well, what's your reason?'
'I wish to enlist in the Queen's army. This man-at-arms indicated I should prove myself.'
The sergeant looked from the flabbergasted sentry to Rod, and nodded.
'You'll have your chance,' he said. 'Come.'
The chance consisted of a hulking sergeant equipped with a broadsword and buckler.
'Will you not take a buckler, man?' growled the old knight who was Master of the Guard.
'No thanks.' Rod slipped his dagger from its sheath. 'This will do me quite well.'
'Naught but a poniard and a wisp of a sword 'gainst broad-sword and buckler!' Sir Mans shook his head sadly. 'You must truly wish to die young!'
Rod's eyes widened in surprise. 'Thank you,' he said. 'I haven't been told I looked young since I was thirteen.'
'Well, cross your swords,' Sir Mans sighed. Rod and the sergeant complied; Sir Mans limped forward, his own broad-sword coming up to separate their blades.
The sergeant's broadsword swung up for a full-armed chop. Rod took advantage of the moment's delay to feint once at the sergeant's belly. The buckler dropped down to catch the
sword-tip, and Rod's blade leaped over the sergeant's arm to rip the cloth over his heart.
'Hold!' cried Sir Mans, and the sergeant's broadsword paused in midchop. He dropped his buckler, staring about him. 'Wot 'appened?'
'Had this Gallowglass not fought in sport alone,' said Sir Mans, thou wert a dead man this day, Sergeant Hapweed.'
He scowled at Rod, puzzled. 'Who would ha' thought to use a sword's point?'
'Shall we have at it again?' Rod's blade whined through the air and slapped against his leg.
Sir Mans studied Rod's face, his brow furrowing. 'Nay,' he said, lifting his head. 'I'll warrant you're a swordsman.'
'Aye,' muttered Big Tom, and Sir Mans glanced over at him; but the big man was only beaming with pride.
The Master of the Guard turned and caught up a quarter-staff. 'Here!'
He tossed it to Rod. 'We'll try you with this.'
Rod sheathed his dagger and caught the staff by the middle. He slipped his sword
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