throat.
Silence fell over the camp. The captain motioned away the men who crept toward them, weapons drawn.
“You are quick, little one,” he admitted. “What is your training?”
Ellasif fell back a step, keeping her sword at low guard. “I am a shield maiden from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings.”
His face contorted in disbelief and his gaze slid down Ellasif’s small, compact form. “Were you hexed as a child?” he asked. “I have seen Ulfen women before. One traveled with this company some years back. She was taller than me, twice your size.”
“At least twice her size,” one of the captain’s men echoed, cupping his hands several inches from his chest. This drew laughter from the other guards.
Ignoring his man’s joke, the captain pointed to the biggest fellow in the camp, a massive Varisian who wore his black hair in four long braids and his beard in two. The big man went shirtless beneath a short cape of brilliant blue, and his brown torso bulged with muscle.
“This is Gisanto. He is a fine swordsman, and, as you can see, not a small man. Do you think you could deal with him?”
Ellasif looked Gisanto up and down. “Yes.”
“How?”
She shrugged. “I’m more cunning than I look.”
Gold glinted in the captain’s smile. “Show me.”
Ellasif gathered a handful of her long amber hair with her free hand. “I wasn’t expecting to fight. I’ll need a moment to prepare.”
“Take all the time you like,” Gisanto said with a grin. “It will change nothing.”
She sheathed her sword and reached into a pocket for a leather thong. She plaited her hair into a single long braid. After securing the end with the thong, she shrugged off her travel cloak and took a few moments to check the broad dagger she kept strapped to one forearm and the knives in her boot sheaths. In her experience, four weapons struck most people as an excessive number for one small woman to carry. Drawing attention to them led most people watching to assume they’d seen all there was to see.
While she prepared for the fight, Gisanto put on a show of his own. He circled Ellasif with his sword drawn, his cloak swirling as he moved through an elaborate display of lunges and feints.
“Are you ready for me, mouse?”
Ellasif picked up her own cloak and wrapped it around her arm with a flamboyant swirl. “Shall we have music for this dance?”
A few of the other guards snickered at her confidence. “Timoteo,” shouted Balev. The skald—Ellasif reminded herself that the name for such singers was “bard” or “minstrel” so far south—needed no further instruction to strum up his gusli. As the company began to clap in time to the music, irritation flashed across Gisanto’s face, but Ellasif smiled as she recognized the tune she’d heard earlier.
With a growl, the Varisian rushed toward Ellasif.
She sidestepped the charge with room to spare. They whirled to face each other, cloaks swirling, and both attacked high and hard. Swords clashed and held. The big Varisian leaned into the crossed weapons heavily enough to demonstrate his superior strength.
“Too easy,” he said.
Ellasif’s sword slid away first. As she backed off, one of the guards barked a laugh.
Gisanto sent him a glare, eyes demanding an explanation for the outburst. The laughing man pointed to Ellasif, and Gisanto looked at her.
She’d tossed aside the cloak, which had obscured a small blade. In addition to the hidden knife, she also held one of Gisanto’s long black braids. His hand flew up to palm his head, where he found the frayed stump of his braid. He bellowed and charged again. Ellasif wheeled back from her feigned retreat and counterattacked.
They exchanged a flurry of blows, sharp and fast and ringing. But the Varisian could not keep his gaze off of the braid in Ellasif’s hand. Distracted, his attacks lacked force and focus. Ellasif deflected and returned them with ease.
Gisanto’s temper cooled after a few clashes. He tried
Silence fell over the camp. The captain motioned away the men who crept toward them, weapons drawn.
“You are quick, little one,” he admitted. “What is your training?”
Ellasif fell back a step, keeping her sword at low guard. “I am a shield maiden from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings.”
His face contorted in disbelief and his gaze slid down Ellasif’s small, compact form. “Were you hexed as a child?” he asked. “I have seen Ulfen women before. One traveled with this company some years back. She was taller than me, twice your size.”
“At least twice her size,” one of the captain’s men echoed, cupping his hands several inches from his chest. This drew laughter from the other guards.
Ignoring his man’s joke, the captain pointed to the biggest fellow in the camp, a massive Varisian who wore his black hair in four long braids and his beard in two. The big man went shirtless beneath a short cape of brilliant blue, and his brown torso bulged with muscle.
“This is Gisanto. He is a fine swordsman, and, as you can see, not a small man. Do you think you could deal with him?”
Ellasif looked Gisanto up and down. “Yes.”
“How?”
She shrugged. “I’m more cunning than I look.”
Gold glinted in the captain’s smile. “Show me.”
Ellasif gathered a handful of her long amber hair with her free hand. “I wasn’t expecting to fight. I’ll need a moment to prepare.”
“Take all the time you like,” Gisanto said with a grin. “It will change nothing.”
She sheathed her sword and reached into a pocket for a leather thong. She plaited her hair into a single long braid. After securing the end with the thong, she shrugged off her travel cloak and took a few moments to check the broad dagger she kept strapped to one forearm and the knives in her boot sheaths. In her experience, four weapons struck most people as an excessive number for one small woman to carry. Drawing attention to them led most people watching to assume they’d seen all there was to see.
While she prepared for the fight, Gisanto put on a show of his own. He circled Ellasif with his sword drawn, his cloak swirling as he moved through an elaborate display of lunges and feints.
“Are you ready for me, mouse?”
Ellasif picked up her own cloak and wrapped it around her arm with a flamboyant swirl. “Shall we have music for this dance?”
A few of the other guards snickered at her confidence. “Timoteo,” shouted Balev. The skald—Ellasif reminded herself that the name for such singers was “bard” or “minstrel” so far south—needed no further instruction to strum up his gusli. As the company began to clap in time to the music, irritation flashed across Gisanto’s face, but Ellasif smiled as she recognized the tune she’d heard earlier.
With a growl, the Varisian rushed toward Ellasif.
She sidestepped the charge with room to spare. They whirled to face each other, cloaks swirling, and both attacked high and hard. Swords clashed and held. The big Varisian leaned into the crossed weapons heavily enough to demonstrate his superior strength.
“Too easy,” he said.
Ellasif’s sword slid away first. As she backed off, one of the guards barked a laugh.
Gisanto sent him a glare, eyes demanding an explanation for the outburst. The laughing man pointed to Ellasif, and Gisanto looked at her.
She’d tossed aside the cloak, which had obscured a small blade. In addition to the hidden knife, she also held one of Gisanto’s long black braids. His hand flew up to palm his head, where he found the frayed stump of his braid. He bellowed and charged again. Ellasif wheeled back from her feigned retreat and counterattacked.
They exchanged a flurry of blows, sharp and fast and ringing. But the Varisian could not keep his gaze off of the braid in Ellasif’s hand. Distracted, his attacks lacked force and focus. Ellasif deflected and returned them with ease.
Gisanto’s temper cooled after a few clashes. He tried
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