Yet not once did he ask about their defences. The narrow windows. The spiked posts. The excessive number of guards on the battlements. Though she observed Talac drink in every detail, no doubt drawing his own conclusions.
She wondered what he thought of Master Sword Peggy. The man was large, with a long grey mane of hair and matching beard. He had scars marking his bare arms and face. He looked beyond disreputable, though his clothes were clean and well made. Perhaps it was the wooden peg leg. Or perhaps it was the opaque white eyes that didn’t focus and yet… somehow, Peggy seemed to see all.
The children instantly swarmed their teacher as their class came to a conclusion. Laughing. All talking at once. The man unerringly addressing each by name, patting them on the head or shoulder. He was shaking his head, smiling, which somehow made his scarred features look scarier but didn’t bother the children a jot.
Finally, the man waved a hand, nodding his head in agreement to their pleas. All nine children racing eagerly to the arena boundary, swapping their wooden swords for two steel throwing knives each. Then, on silent feet, the children moved to surround their teacher, standing some eight feet away at irregular intervals, encircling him.
Peggy took one deep breath and nodded, that was the signal. He plucked the first two knives thrown at him out of the air, dropping them instantly. Batting away a third with a gloved hand, making sure it was redirected to the ground. The next knife, heading for his chest, Peggy grabbed it by the handle, reversing his hold so he could use it to knock the rain of knives aside that now pelted at him. Silence fell, Peggy shifting his attention to one slim raven haired girl wearing a bright yellow waistcoat and black breeches. The only one left holding a knife.
“That just leaves you, Jamie.”
Alia watched on as her niece took a slow steady breath, pulled pack her throwing arm and followed through, but maintained hold of the knife. Already pulling her arm across her body and using a flick of the wrist to finally release the knife. With a soft snick it embedded itself in Peggy’s wooden leg. A whoop of victory sounding from the children, who surrounded a flushed and pleased Jamie to congratulate her. Peggy stomping forward, still wearing the knife embedded in his leg like a badge of merit, patting the girl on the head.
“Is he really blind?”
Alia watched the children and Peggy leave, uncomfortably aware that for the first time today she and Talac were alone. “Almost totally. He lost both his sight and leg in a pirate attack.”
“He was attacked by pirates?”
“No, he was the pirate doing the attacking.”
Talac searched Alia’s expression, clearly trying to interpret if she was being serious. Shrugging finally, as if the answer didn’t matter, he got to his feet, wandering over to the weapons stand, eyeing the array.
Alia trailed after him, in case he had any questions, not because she found herself strangely drawn to him.
“How young do you start the children training?”
“They begin exercise classes from the age of three, focusing on balance and endurance. Practise weapons are issued to them at aged five.”
“It sounds young.” Picking up a slim rapier Talac absently gauged its weight and balance. Finding it to his liking.
“How old were you when you held your first weapon?” She enquired, intrigued.
“I believe I was gifted my grandfather’s favourite battle knife whilst still in the cradle.”
“And you were expected to follow in his footsteps?”
“Yes, all roads led to me being a King’s man.” Picking up another rapier, Talac handed it to Alia. “Shall we? Spar?”
Spar? That really didn’t seem like a good idea. Hurting a King’s man might bring heaven knows what kind of punishment down upon Gloomenthrall. “I really don’t-” Alia ceased talking as Talac gifted her with a taunting grin, as if he knew what she was thinking. Something about that smile, warmth unfurled low in her gut.
“Afraid?”
“Of you? No. Of hurting you? Yes.” And now she was talking to his back as Talac strode away from her out into the arena, finally turning, settling into the challenge ready position.
“The only thing that might get hurt today will be my feelings if you refuse me this request.”
“Are you trying to channel Lord De’Luca? Because that just sounded wrong coming from you.”
“For Gods’ sake, just get over here and show me what you’re made of.”
“Hah. That sounds more like you.” Alia strode out into the centre of the arena to join him. “What rules shall we play by?”
“Touches only, first to five.”
“Sounds fair.” Agreed Alia, also settling into the ready position.
“And to sweeten the pot, the winner may ask one question… one personal question, that the loser must answer truthfully.”
