The others listened somberly to the story as they heard Gwilym shouting as he and Corin chased after the small river creatures.
“How did you manage tae be the grandpa?” Jamey asked Trey.
Martin smiled widely as Trey answered. “Martin thought it would be funny to teach him to call me that.”
“I just thought Grandpa Trey had a much nicer ring to it than Uncle,” Martin said as they all laughed.
“Trouble is, Gwilym saw that they all thought it was funny and picked right up on it,” Trey said with a rueful smile.
“Grampa! Martin! Look what we caught!” Gwilym ran back up. “Let me show them, Uncle Cor!” He bounced up and down.
“All right, stay still and hold it like I showed you.” Corin handed Gwilym the small frog he was carrying.
The boy took it and proudly displayed it to his “uncle” and “grandpa” who viewed it with proper exclamations.
“Would you like to hold it?” Gwilym shyly asked Tam.
“Sure, if you don’t mind?” The young Braeton crouched down and took the frog from Gwilym.
“Do you know how to catch them?” Gwilym asked Tam.
“We don’t really have them where I live,” Tam said.
“Where’s that?”
“I live in the forest far away from here.”
“I used to live in the forest with my Uncle Martin,” Gwilym informed him.
“That’s the longest he’s ever talked to a stranger,” Martin marveled as Tam and Gwilym chatted amicably.
“Tam can talk tae anyone, especially the little ones. They all love him,” Aiden said.
Jamey had also been pulled down alongside Tam once Maon had started sniffing at the curious creature that Tam held.
“Can I keep it, Uncle Martin?” Gwilym begged. “I can put it in my room.”
“That might not be a good idea.” Martin hesitated.
“Why?” his “nephew” demanded.
“Well, Mera wouldn’t like it. Aunts are kind of particular about frogs. Ask your Uncle Cor if you don’t believe me.”
“Aunt Kara likes them,” Gwilym pointed out.
“It takes a special kind of aunt to like them,” Martin said.
“Let’s go put it back by the river,” Corin said.
Gwilym took the frog and went back to the river with Corin.
“I hope those aren’t your good clothes,” Martin reprimanded Gwilym when they came back.
Gwilym brushed furtively at the dirt on his clothes. “No, Aunt Mera said I didn’t have to wear them today.”
“Martin’s more of a mother than an uncle,” Corin said.
“Can you give me a ride back, Grampa?” Gwilym asked Trey.
“You nearly broke my back last time,” Trey said.
“I’ll give you a lift if you want,” Aiden offered.
“Really?” Gwilym asked.
“Sure. I’ve carried your fat Uncle Corin before so I think I can carry you,” Aiden said.
Gwilym’s eyes widened at the news of this feat and he eagerly nodded. Aiden handed his swords to Corin and settled the boy on his back.
“Martin, can they be uncles?” Gwilym asked as they turned back to the castle.
“You’ll have to ask them,” Martin told him.
Upon receiving answers of assent, Gwilym decided that they would be his “far away uncles” like Trey now was, “’cept he was a grampa.”
Gwilym’s adopted family was hard pressed to keep straight faces at this comment.
“I’d be careful where I keep those swords, Aiden. Martin is eyeing them again,” Trey warned.
“You up for a bout then, Martin?” Aiden asked. “I hear you’re pretty good.”
“Aye, I’m all right with my blade,” Martin replied casually. “This afternoon then? I have another challenge to tend to.”
“Sure. Whenever you want. I’ll be ready,” Aiden replied.
“Can I come watch? I never get to,” Gwilym complained from his perch on Aiden’s back.
“You might as well. It’s the Festival, so everyone will be out watching,” Martin said.
“We have to make sure our Blademaster retains his position,” Corin said.
“Just as long as you or Trey never challenges me in public,” Martin replied cheerfully.
When they reached the castle, Aiden let Gwilym slide down from his back. Corin handed Aiden his swords.
“Softie,” he said.
“You have no room tae talk, Uncle!” Aiden replied.
Chapter 3
Aiden and Martin circled each other slowly, blades flickering across the space between them as they felt out the other’s strengths and weaknesses. Corin watched from the edge of the rough arena, picking out each man’s moves that he knew like the back of his hand. He’d long wondered how the two would match up after facing their skill for himself. He marked a tense frustration in Aiden’s right shoulder as Martin seemed to know his moves before he made them.
“They won’t get hurt, will they?” Mera asked anxiously. Corin looked over to see her standing beside him. “I hate it when he does this!”
Amaura and Rona were also with her, and Corin noticed Rona watching the fight with slightly better hidden anxiety.
“Don’t worry. You only try to beat the blade, not the opponent,” Corin said. “They’ll be fine.”
“I still don’t like it,” Mera said.
The crowds of spectators called encouragement as Aiden and Martin began to move faster, sparring in earnest. Aiden pushed relentlessly, trying to find an opening, but there seemed to be none. It happened suddenly: the tip of Martin’s blade caught his left sword and tossed it aside. Another deft movement, and Aiden’s right sword was trapped against his body. He looked down to see a dagger locked against the left blade.
Aiden laughed in sheer amazement, and Martin disengaged his blades.
“Incredible! No one’s ever beaten me like that before!” Aiden exclaimed.
“I don’t know if I could have actually finished you off like that. You won’t hold it against me, will you?” Martin asked.
“How could I? It was beautiful!” Aiden said.
“Thanks.” Martin smiled. “It wasn’t easy. How do you manage to keep them going for so long?”
“I’d show you but then you’d know all my tricks.” Aiden grinned, sheathing his swords and extending his hand. Martin did the same and clasped it firmly.
“You beat me fair and square, but I might try again another time,” Aiden said.
“I look forward to it,” Martin replied.
Aiden went over to where Corin, Trey, and his brothers stood, still shaking his head in amazement.
“He’s good,” he said.
“Aye. I feel fortunate to have beaten him once,” Corin said.
“I’ve done slightly better,” Trey said. “Twice for me.”
They watched Martin prepare to fight his other challenger, a burly warrior from a keep in the Cymro Mountains.
“I’ve heard Cadoc is the best fighter in the eastern part of Aredor,” Trey said.
“He looks good,” Corin agreed.
“How long do you give Martin?” Trey asked.
“With Cadoc’s size, about ten minutes,” Corin estimated.
“How could you possibly know that?” Amaura demanded.
“Because we’ve done this a few times,” Corin told her.
“How long did you give me?” Aiden asked curiously.
“A generous twelve minutes,” Trey said.
“And?”
“Twenty,” Corin replied with a grin.
They watched closely the exchange of blows between the two contestants.
“Azrahil would kill himself tae see this,” Aiden mar-veled.
Corin bit back his agreement as Mera shivered beside him. She had more than enough reason to hate war after healing the rents made by the shining blades. She stifled an involuntary cry as Martin staggered back under a heavy blow from Cadoc.
“He’s
too tired tae finish! I should have waited!” Aiden said as Martin began to slowly retreat under a fresh attack from Cadoc.
“He’s fine. He can fight for three days without stop,” Trey reassured him in calm exaggeration.
“Aye, this is my favorite part,” Corin said.
Cadoc, seeing his opponent retreating, became more confident. Martin allowed a slight smile when he saw a change in the pattern of the blows. Doubt crossed Cadoc’s features at the sight of the smile, but it was too late to change. Before Cadoc knew it, Martin stood alongside him with his blade laid across Cadoc’s back.
Angry at being beaten and at seeing the triumphant light in Martin’s eyes, Cadoc kicked at his opponent’s leg as Martin stepped away. It caught Martin in the knee, and he stumbled with a surprised cry. Cadoc gathered his sword and attacked. Martin barely warded off the blow and scrambled to his feet.
“Cadoc’s out for blood and he’s made Martin angry. This might not end well for Cadoc,” Trey said worriedly to Corin.
They both took a step forward. Silence had fallen over the onlookers. Corin caught a glimpse of Martin’s face. Whereas before he had been fighting with almost joy at the tests, he now moved with an even greater speed and efficiency, his eyes sparking angrily.
Cadoc’s feet were suddenly swept out from under him and he fell with his sword hand held in a viselike grip, and a sword raised above him.
“Martin!” Corin barked as he saw the sword beginning to fall.
Martin stopped and drew a shuddering breath. He slowly lowered the sword and tapped Cadoc’s chest with the point. Cadoc let his sword fall from his hand, beaten.
Martin again stepped away and, turning his back contemptuously on Cadoc, slowly limped over to Corin and Trey. He sheathed his sword with a snap, still roused and angry. Corin laid a calming hand on his arm and looked back to where Cadoc was being helped to his feet. Cadoc’s angry expression faded at the warning look the Captain gave him.
Trey helped Martin limp over to a nearby bench set outside a tent, and Mera hurried to him. Martin gripped the edge of the bench as Mera gently probed at his knee.
“Are you hurted, Uncle Martin?” Gwilym hovered anxiously.
“It’s nothing your Aunt Mera can’t fix,” Martin reassured him, gesturing for the boy to join him on the bench.
“I think it’s all right, just swollen and bruised. You need to stay off it for a few days,” Mera told her brother.
“I’m not just sitting around for a week!” Martin exclaimed.
“How are you?” Liam asked, coming up to join them.
“I might never fight again,” Martin said.
“If only! And stop being so dramatic!” Mera said before consulting with the Hawk Flight’s healer. Liam tested her theory himself.
“If you’re trying to finish the job, just cut it off,” Martin complained.
“She’s right, Martin. You might stay behind from patrol for a day or so as well,” Liam said.
“What? You can’t make me do that!” Martin exclaimed.
“Do you want to make it worse?” Liam argued.
“Captain!” they both appealed to Corin.
“You’re outnumbered, Martin. They’re right, and I’m not going to argue with both of them,” Corin said.
“Traitor!” Martin muttered. “Fine!”
“Excuse me, your highness.”
Corin turned to face the speaker, a tall man draped in the red plaid of Clan Strowen.
“Yes, my lord?” he asked.
“I would ask your lieutenant if he would be willing tae teach some of our younger lads,” Laird Searc made his request. Corin turned to Martin who then nodded.
“I’d be glad to help, sir. When will they be ready?” Martin asked.
“I could not help but hear that you will have some extra time. They can be ready now if you wish,” Laird Searc replied.
“How many, sir?” Martin asked.
“Five. And be warned that some of them are overly proud and arrogant.”
“We’ll sort that out. Anyone in particular, sir?”
“My son,” Laird Searc replied.
Martin cleared his throat awkwardly, and the Braeton chuckled. “You’d be doing me a favor.”
“All right, bring them over,” Martin said.
“Can I watch?” Gwilym asked.
“No, I don’t want you learning anything you’re not supposed to,” Martin said.
Mera took Gwilym’s hand, and they left with Rona and Amaura. Laird Searc brought the young men up, led by a swaggering young Braeton.
“I’ll leave you lads tae it,” Laird Searc announced after catching Martin’s look and leaving.
“You’re supposed tae teach us? You can’nae even stand. I saw the fight,” the leader sneered.
“Oh, really? What did you think?” Martin asked amiably.
“You were a fool tae let him kick you and tae turn your back on him,” the young man answered.
“If you want to think that.” Martin shrugged.
“I do. I also think you have nothing tae teach us,” he declared.
Three of his companions laughed in support.
“All right. We’ll see if I do or don’t. Draw your blade, and if any one of you five can fairly knock me off this bench or disarm me, then you’re free to go. But if not, we continue my way.” Martin unsheathed his sword.
“You can’nae be serious!” the young Braeton exclaimed.
“Oh, I’m serious, laddie,” Martin said softly. “You first. And you, go last.” He pointed to the biggest boy in the group who had not laughed.
Corin rested his hand against his mouth to artfully hide his smile, and Aiden struggled manfully to restrain his laughter.
“This is just like Andras all over again. I couldn’t stop smiling for days after Martin finished with him!” Trey whispered gleefully.
Another member of Clan Strowen stood watching in grim pleasure as Laird Searc’s son struck at Martin who almost carelessly blocked the blow and sent the claymore flying.
“Next!” Martin called. Three more Braetons were also disarmed in short order. The last one came up slowly.
“Are you sure, sir?” he asked Martin hesitantly.
Martin smiled up at the hulking youth. “I might surprise you.”
“Come on, Guaire. The only thing you’re good for is knocking things over!” Solas mocked as Guaire flushed.
“Come on, lad. Give it your best shot,” Martin encouraged. He allowed Guaire a few more strokes than the others before sending the claymore to land in the ground beside Solas’s foot.
“Is that good enough for you boys?” Martin stared levelly at the young Braetons who nodded awkwardly.
The warrior of Clan Strowen that had been watching came up. “Martin,” the man greeted him briefly.
“Eornan.” Martin nodded.
“I saw you fight. It was a cowardly hit you took. I came at Laird Searc’s request tae offer any help you need,” Eornan said.
“Perfect. Do you mind using a claymore today?” Martin asked.
“That’s Strowen’s champion,” Tam told the others quietly, looking in awe at the tall, somber man. His eyes were as keen as the falcon of his Clan. Instead of a claymore, he carried a strange looking blade. A long black handle flowed into a blade that curved slightly at its tip.
“Aiden, would you join us as well?” Martin asked.
“You’re the one the story is about?” Guaire asked, staring at Aiden.
Aiden nodded to him. “Aye, I’ll come. I’ll have tae borrow a claymore,” he told Martin.
“I have an extra,” Eornan said.
“You’ll make us fight two champions?” one of the new students exclaimed.
“I won. We do it my way,” Martin told him. “And you’re not flailing away at anyone yet. We’ve got some work to do.”
Corin caught sight of Darrin waving him over. “Trey, it looks like Darrin and Tristan want us. Martin, I’ll send yours down.”
�
�You have a claymore?” Guaire asked in surprise.
“A Blademaster should be able to use other blades besides his own,” Martin said. “Come on, Guaire, you can be my crutch. We’re going somewhere out of the way where there’s a lovely spot for me to sit and watch you work.”
Guaire grinned and helped Martin to stand and limp toward another part of the training grounds. Eornan wordlessly jerked his head after them, indicating the other students should follow with him and Aiden.
Tristan had just arrived at Kingscastle, and he and Trey left to discuss some of the affairs of Castle Martel. There were a few new arrivals that Darrin took Corin to meet. The brothers entered the great hall and went to join the rest of their family who gathered with the visitors in front of the dais.
“Uncle Maldwyn!” Darrin greeted them first.
“Darrin!” Their uncle clasped his hand heartily. Maldwyn saw Corin standing slightly behind Darrin. “Well, I said I wouldn’t believe it until I saw it. You are alive after all!”
“Hello, Uncle.” Corin smiled. He had nothing but good memories of the jovial man. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long, lad,” Maldwyn said as he hugged him.
“We’ve missed you, Corin,” his aunt said, also embracing him.
“They say that you are ‘the Hawk.’ So we have you to thank for all this.” Maldwyn gestured around them.
Corin shifted awkwardly. This was one thing he hated and had yet to get used to. “People seem to forget that I had a little help.”
“You do the stories justice, lad,” Maldwyn said.
“He said they fled to Cyndor after the mountain keeps were taken. They returned to Cair Esgair only a few months ago,” Darrin filled Corin in quietly as Maldwyn turned back to his brother and sister-in-law.
They had found that many of the mountain forts had been taken after their garrisons had fled further into the mountains or into Cyndor.
“It’s a good thing we waited to regarrison the keep then,” Corin said.
“Aye, from what Uncle Maldwyn said, most of their men escaped with them, so the Cair has a full company,” Darrin replied.
The Wildcat of Braeton Page 22
