The Outlaw King: The Line of Kings Trilogy Book One by Craig Saunders Page A

and knocked him down by taking his legs away from him. Gard
knocked the boy over three times, but to his credit Tarn always got back up
again. Gard knew Tarn would never be strong enough to best him fist to fist,
but Tarn knew that, too, and used his legs and elbows to great effect.
                Their
fighting styles were vastly different, and the bouts always a challenge. Gard
had to admit to himself that despite his fears for the boy’s future, the fights
were enjoyable.
                When
Dow sat on the horizon, Gard called a halt.
                ‘That’s
it for today, Tarn. Tomorrow we will begin on advanced swordsmanship. I will
teach you the intermediate moves with the short sword. They will stand you in
good stead when we move on to practise with the long sword. You are progressing
well.’
                Tarn
beamed at the praise. There was precious little of it from the big man.
                ‘Thank
you, Gard. I have fewer bruises tonight, but I will still sleep on my back.’
                Gard
laughed. ‘All too soon, boy, you’ll have no bruises at all and it will be me
sleeping on my back.’
                ‘I
doubt that, big man. You seem invincible, for an old man.’
                ‘No
man is invincible, Tarn. Remember that. Any man that breathes can be killed.
Now, let’s go see Molly. I’m ravenous.’
                ‘I
am, too. I could eat a horse.’
                ‘I
wouldn’t recommend it. Stringy beasts at best.’
                Tarn
walked silently beside the big man back to the house. Gard left him to his
thoughts, but the big man could imagine well enough. The boy pushed himself
harder and harder, driving toward his blades and his manhood. It saddened him
to see the boy rush toward the future and the trials it would bring. Gard
flicked a sideways glance at the boy beside him. Broad in the shoulder, still
narrow of chest, but while his body remained youthful, his face bore that angry
scar. His eyes were darker than a boy’s eyes should be, but they had seen dark
sights in his young years. Gard was not fool enough to think a boy or a man
could outgrow his past. He just wished the boy would smile more, fool more.
                Gard
remembered Molly’s advice on the subject. ‘It’s not in the boy’s nature, Gard.
Folly to teach a mule to dance, big man,’ she said.
                He
sighed and ruffled the boy’s hair as they reached the house.
                ‘Good
work, Tarn,’ he said, more gruffly than he meant.
                Tarn
smiled in response. That, thought Gard, was more than good enough.
     
    *
     

 
    Chapter Twenty-Seven
     
    Tarn still saw Tulathia, Mia and Rena, spending more time with
Rena, usually the whole day, on the seventh day of every week. He looked
forward to the visits and found himself distracted through training. He
received more than one black ear while wondering what it would be like to kiss
her. He didn’t know why he thought of kissing Rena while Gard’s sword, or
halberd, or axe thundered into him, but he could not get her from his mind.
                Rena loomed large in his mind, then before he knew
what had happened, he was in the mud again.
                He looked up, dazed, and saw four suns then
looked down to see his long sword
still in his hand, and Gard standing over him holding the wooden axe in his
hand. He relaxed and stood on shaky legs.
                ‘I
wasn’t concentrating.’
                ‘No,
you weren’t. You’ve been mooning over Rena more and more. I think we’ve done
enough training for today. I have something else I want you to try. Come on,
sword up.’
                Tarn
raised his sword in salute to Gard, and the big man did the same with the axe.
                After
putting their weapons away, Gard led Tarn