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to do," Alpin said. "Might he lead the king's troops against our lads?"
"I do not know." She shook her head, confused, unwilling to believe that the smith's son who had grown up among her kinfolk could betray them. Yet he was not the same man she had known before. Secrets lurked in his eyes.
"Eva," Alpin said. "The messenger said the king may forfeit your right to Innisfarna, and grant it to a man who will champion his interests in the Highlands."
"You mean a man who will support central government in Scotland," she said bitterly.
"I mean Colin," Alpin said. "He will fawn for the king's favor in this matter and arrive here with the deed to the isle in his pocket. We cannot let him take this place from you."
"I agree. At least I have a choice in that matter."
"You do, and I am training you for it."
"Then we should get to it." She walked over to a tree where Alpin had left the two wooden swords they normally used.
Eva lifted her weapon, its polished oak blade gleaming in the early light. She faced Alpin, who held a matching carved, wooden practice weapon. Having advanced to the use of steel, she still preferred the wooden wasters, as they were called, for practice. Alpin had wrapped the blades with cloth to muffle the clacking sounds and keep their practices secret.
Adopting a basic stance, she placed her right foot—her sword foot—ahead, balancing her weight between her forward and back feet, knees slightly bent. She raised the sword and waited.
Alpin lifted his sword and brought it down in a rapid, controlled movement, which Eva expected. She swung to counter the strike. The wooden blades knocked together, and she felt the jar in her bones. Swinging again, she lunged diagonally forward and out of the path of his answering stroke, so that he missed.
As she moved, she raised the hilt and let the wooden shaft angle downward, hanging behind her shoulder to defend her back. She resumed the guarding position and waited for Alpin's next overhead strike, then repeated the moves like a dance. She defended while he attacked; then they switched roles. All the while, she stayed alert, quick, and watchful while she and Alpin circled within the alder grove.
The short, intense practice left her heart pumping hard and her body taut and alert. When it ended, Eva followed Alpin back to the beach and stepped into the boat. Dawn poured rose and lavender over the water as he rowed back to the mainland.
Behind them, Innisfarna, isle and stone, glowed in the lovely light. Aeife's legend demanded that Eva fight for the isle. Now that she had some skill with a sword, she felt better prepared to demand her rights at sword point, if need be.
The prospect frightened her, although she would never have admitted it to Alpin. He expected her to rise to the impossible example of Aeife the Radiant One.
But she had no illusions about herself. She was no faery-bright, enchanted warrior princess. She was an ordinary girl who had some skill with a sword, temper enough to fake bravado, and no stomach at all for hurting anyone.
She sighed, watching the calm, glassy water, and wondered if Aeife and her prince had been real, in ages past—or if Eva defended only a tale, as lovely and empty as the mist.
* * *
Pausing on the sunlit doorstep of the smithy, Lachlann inhaled the crisp air. He glanced toward the loch, shining beneath hills carpeted in autumn golds. A night's rest had improved his eyesight somewhat—but then the sun flashed on the water, and the sparkles appeared again in his vision.
A breeze fluttered his hair and the hem of his belted plaid. He shaded his eyes with his hand to gaze over the meadow and the hills, and wondered where Eva was. Waking late, he had found himself alone but for the dogs, and he had felt disappointed. Loneliness for her—that same longing he had resisted for years—tainted the pleasure of his first morning at home.
Turning, he entered the smithy. The shadowed interior was as he remembered it, and he
"I do not know." She shook her head, confused, unwilling to believe that the smith's son who had grown up among her kinfolk could betray them. Yet he was not the same man she had known before. Secrets lurked in his eyes.
"Eva," Alpin said. "The messenger said the king may forfeit your right to Innisfarna, and grant it to a man who will champion his interests in the Highlands."
"You mean a man who will support central government in Scotland," she said bitterly.
"I mean Colin," Alpin said. "He will fawn for the king's favor in this matter and arrive here with the deed to the isle in his pocket. We cannot let him take this place from you."
"I agree. At least I have a choice in that matter."
"You do, and I am training you for it."
"Then we should get to it." She walked over to a tree where Alpin had left the two wooden swords they normally used.
Eva lifted her weapon, its polished oak blade gleaming in the early light. She faced Alpin, who held a matching carved, wooden practice weapon. Having advanced to the use of steel, she still preferred the wooden wasters, as they were called, for practice. Alpin had wrapped the blades with cloth to muffle the clacking sounds and keep their practices secret.
Adopting a basic stance, she placed her right foot—her sword foot—ahead, balancing her weight between her forward and back feet, knees slightly bent. She raised the sword and waited.
Alpin lifted his sword and brought it down in a rapid, controlled movement, which Eva expected. She swung to counter the strike. The wooden blades knocked together, and she felt the jar in her bones. Swinging again, she lunged diagonally forward and out of the path of his answering stroke, so that he missed.
As she moved, she raised the hilt and let the wooden shaft angle downward, hanging behind her shoulder to defend her back. She resumed the guarding position and waited for Alpin's next overhead strike, then repeated the moves like a dance. She defended while he attacked; then they switched roles. All the while, she stayed alert, quick, and watchful while she and Alpin circled within the alder grove.
The short, intense practice left her heart pumping hard and her body taut and alert. When it ended, Eva followed Alpin back to the beach and stepped into the boat. Dawn poured rose and lavender over the water as he rowed back to the mainland.
Behind them, Innisfarna, isle and stone, glowed in the lovely light. Aeife's legend demanded that Eva fight for the isle. Now that she had some skill with a sword, she felt better prepared to demand her rights at sword point, if need be.
The prospect frightened her, although she would never have admitted it to Alpin. He expected her to rise to the impossible example of Aeife the Radiant One.
But she had no illusions about herself. She was no faery-bright, enchanted warrior princess. She was an ordinary girl who had some skill with a sword, temper enough to fake bravado, and no stomach at all for hurting anyone.
She sighed, watching the calm, glassy water, and wondered if Aeife and her prince had been real, in ages past—or if Eva defended only a tale, as lovely and empty as the mist.
* * *
Pausing on the sunlit doorstep of the smithy, Lachlann inhaled the crisp air. He glanced toward the loch, shining beneath hills carpeted in autumn golds. A night's rest had improved his eyesight somewhat—but then the sun flashed on the water, and the sparkles appeared again in his vision.
A breeze fluttered his hair and the hem of his belted plaid. He shaded his eyes with his hand to gaze over the meadow and the hills, and wondered where Eva was. Waking late, he had found himself alone but for the dogs, and he had felt disappointed. Loneliness for her—that same longing he had resisted for years—tainted the pleasure of his first morning at home.
Turning, he entered the smithy. The shadowed interior was as he remembered it, and he
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