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“Feel your arm -- It ends not with your hand, but with the tip of your blade!   Hold it like this… Keep the point up and let the edge be the first thing your foe meets!”

The warrior’s words were answered with a halfhearted growl: “Audrey… It goes without saying that you are the first thing that my foe should meet…”

“You have the right of it, Magister, but if I fall, a little sword-ken may save your life.” Ulfred was mildly exasperated; nevertheless, he tried to follow his shield-maiden’s instructions.

“We are not going into battle,” the old wolf grumbled, but still he held on to the sword.

For there was something about Audrey’s concern for him that was oddly appealing. The weapon in his hand had been purchased with her own coin and while it was naught but a battered blade pulled from some armorer’s scrap barrel, it had been meticulously cleaned and honed. If need be, it would slay for him.

Mayhap Audrey was merely stoking her own self-importance as arms-master to a mighty wizard, but Ulfred’s gut discarded that notion. He had met enough real warriors to know that none of them would seek glory in training an inept student, mighty wizard or otherwise. Audrey was sincere and earnest in her desire that Ulfred should gain a measure of weaponcraft.

For a moment, Ulfred contemplated how ridiculous it was that a female prey animal should be teaching the art of killing to a son of the Dinnsward pack. But by the Seven Gates, she was good and patient. She was not like those early fighting instructors who had mocked him, beat him, and then cast him out as useless. She would not crush his spirit as they had. In spite of all his learning and wisdom, Ulfred suddenly felt as if he were a pup again, fearful of his elders and anxious to please.

Ulfred’s cynical older self was more than a little disgusted with all of it. But his child self was full of renewed hope.   He would never be a warrior and he doubted that the sword in his hand would ever taste blood. Yet with Audrey’s help, he could learn to fight. And if his fighting skill never amounted to more than that of a nearsighted runt, it would still be enough to prevail against some very old and powerful demons.

Description

“Feel your arm -- It ends not with your hand, but with the tip of your blade!   Hold it like this… Keep the point up and let the edge be the first thing your foe meets!”

The warrior’s words were answered with a halfhearted growl: “Audrey… It goes without saying that you are the first thing that my foe should meet…”

“You have the right of it, Magister, but if I fall, a little sword-ken may save your life.” Ulfred was mildly exasperated; nevertheless, he tried to follow his shield-maiden’s instructions.

“We are not going into battle,” the old wolf grumbled, but still he held on to the sword.

For there was something about Audrey’s concern for him that was oddly appealing. The weapon in his hand had been purchased with her own coin and while it was naught but a battered blade pulled from some armorer’s scrap barrel, it had been meticulously cleaned and honed. If need be, it would slay for him.

Mayhap Audrey was merely stoking her own self-importance as arms-master to a mighty wizard, but Ulfred’s gut discarded that notion. He had met enough real warriors to know that none of them would seek glory in training an inept student, mighty wizard or otherwise. Audrey was sincere and earnest in her desire that Ulfred should gain a measure of weaponcraft.

For a moment, Ulfred contemplated how ridiculous it was that a female prey animal should be teaching the art of killing to a son of the Dinnsward pack. But by the Seven Gates, she was good and patient. She was not like those early fighting instructors who had mocked him, beat him, and then cast him out as useless. She would not crush his spirit as they had. In spite of all his learning and wisdom, Ulfred suddenly felt as if he were a pup again, fearful of his elders and anxious to please.

Ulfred’s cynical older self was more than a little disgusted with all of it. But his child self was full of renewed hope.   He would never be a warrior and he doubted that the sword in his hand would ever taste blood. Yet with Audrey’s help, he could learn to fight. And if his fighting skill never amounted to more than that of a nearsighted runt, it would still be enough to prevail against some very old and powerful demons.