The Silver Bracers (Lady Blade, Lord Fighter Book 1)

by Sharon Green

  "You can do it any way you please," I said, trying to free my arm from a hand that circled it completely. "I'll be taking the road, and when I want your opinions I'll ask for them. Now, let go of me!"

  "I'll let go of you as soon as you promise to behave yourself," he said, paying more attention to the woods than to what he dragged along with him. "If you feel the need to sulk over not getting your way with the sword, you won't be doing it on the road. There's no way of knowing who you'll meet on that road, and being disarmed and on foot will either end you up back with those people you walked away from, or taken by some enterprising band to be sold eventually as a slave. And even if you managed to avoid all that, I still have what gold there is. How did you expect to get clothes and a horse at an inn without gold?"

  "That's my business!" I snapped, mad enough to really begin struggling. The nerve of him, an enemy, trying to tell me what to do! I was being pulled along by the left arm, which meant his sword was slung on the far side of him, but that also meant my right arm was free. The day I let an enemy give me orders would be the day I put on skirts and stayed in them, and I happened to hate skirts. Instead of continuing to pull back I ran a few steps forward, then pivoted to throw my fist into him where it would do the most damage.

  If that blow had landed right it would have been all over for him for quite some time, but his reflexes were better than just about any I'd ever seen. His leg came up even as he twisted to the left, and my fist slammed into a rock-hard thigh instead of the portion of his anatomy I'd been aiming for. The next instant I was being whirled the rest of the way around to complete the circle, and an enormous whack to the backside sent me sprawling face forward into the grass. I managed not to yelp at the slinging slap that had landed mostly on bare flesh, but when I turned in the grass to glare at the outrageous beast, I found he'd beaten me to that as well.

  "Now I know why you're having so much trouble behaving yourself," he said in a growl, fists on his hips as he stared down at me. "It's obvious no one's taken the trouble to teach you how it's done, but that's all over with. From now on the job is mine, and I'll see that it's done right. I said we're going that way, and if you don't like the idea you can tell me about it later - in words. If you try jumping at me again, you'll regret it more than you do right now. Let's go."

  If he had stood there and simply ordered me to my feet, I would have stayed where I was until Evon's razor-edged hell turned dull and crumbling. He seemed to know that, though, which was undoubtedly why he came forward with the last of his words to put a fist in my hair. That took me to my feet without giving me a choice in the matter, and then I was being pushed ahead of him, in the direction he wanted to go. As I stumbled forward I cursed everything I could think of for making him so big, a circumstance which put me at a complete disadvantage. If I'd been armed his size would have made very little difference, as I had experience countering greater strength and longer reach; without weapons, however, I had almost no chance at all against him, and would have to wait. Just until I did have a weapon in my hand, I promised myself grimly, rubbing briefly at the sting in my bottom.

  The walk was not a short one, and once we left the heat and brightness of the meadow to move through the cooler shade of the thinned out trees, my feet began to protest the lack of boots. I wasn't used to going barefoot like a carefree country child, and the fact that I disliked it was considerably less important than the fact that it hurt. Twigs and stones and sharp objects from the trees we moved under slowed my pace to one careful step at a time, and that, unfortunately, brought me to the notice of my gallant companion.

  "Wait a minute," he said from where he walked behind me, putting a hand to my shoulder. "The farmhouse is well in sight, and the trees are too far apart in this area for us to need to worry about an ambush. Let's make this a little faster and easier."

  With that he leaned down and picked me up, acting as though it took no more effort than lifting the empty tunic would have! I clutched at his neck convulsively, totally unused to that sort of handling, but once it was clear he wasn't about to immediately drop me again, I loosened my hold and glared at the face that was now so close.

  "I don't need any favors from you," I grated, hating the gentle, easy way he held me. "If you want me to move faster I'll do it, and without any help from you. You know damned well if you'd asked I would have refused, so put me down right now."

  "That's why I didn't ask," he returned, ignoring everything else as he moved along. "I don't want you crippled, so until we can find you something for your feet, we'll do it this way."

  End of conversation. I would have enjoyed asking what he had in mind that he needed me uncrippled for, but he probably would have lied and it didn't matter in any event. He would not find me cooperating with anything he intended, not when it was my family who would suffer if I did. He could carry me to Evon's Realm and back, and even that would not change my mind.

  It took a while to get close enough to the farmhouse to really see it, and by then there was very little doubt that it was empty. There were still a few chickens scratching around in the yard, but one of the barn doors stood open and the house was beginning to need whitewashing even though its own door was solidly closed. The supposed Kylin of Arthil finally put me down, then loosened his sword in its scabbard.

  "You stay here while I look around inside," he said, briefly eyeing the barn. "If anyone shows up call me fast, but otherwise don't move from that spot. With the way your feet are you won't get very far, and you won't like it if I have to come after you."

  He said his piece, then drew his sword and moved toward the house, not even bothering to glance in my direction. It apparently made no difference to him how furious he got me, or that I didn't need him to point out how little distance I could cover on foot. He had done such a good job that I was hoping hard we'd stumbled on the home camp of those bandits and that they would attack as soon as he opened the door, but no such luck. He kicked the door open then jumped inside without anything happening, and the following lack of the sound of steel on steel told me nothing probably would. I waited a moment until my hopes were completely dashed, then took myself inside out of the sun.

  As soon as my eyes had adjusted to the inner dimness, I was able to tell that the former occupants of the house had moved away rather than been chased off. The empty wooden floor of the room showed traces of where a table and chairs had stood, and the hearth had been cleaned of the remnants of the last fire it had held. I moved to the window in the right-hand wall, unlatched it, then threw it wide to allow in fresh air rather than the stale stuff the room was too full of. With that done I turned back to find I was being regarded with something less than friendliness.

  "I always knew Sword Companies didn't do much of a job teaching their Blades how to take orders," my sweet companion remarked from the doorway to the next room, resheathing his sword. "You're living proof of that."

  "Fighters who couldn't quite make the grade usually look at it like that," I remarked back, totally unimpressed with his annoyance. "To be a Blade you need to be able to think for yourself, to know the difference between times it's necessary to follow orders, and times when it isn't. I know the difference."

  "I can see that," he said, the dryness of his tone suggesting disagreement rather than concurrence. "When I give the orders, you don't find any need to obey them even if disobeying puts your life in danger. We're going to have some trouble over that, aren't we?"

  His question was closer to being a statement, showing he had slightly more intelligence than I'd given him credit for, but the way he was looking at me didn't quite have the effect he was obviously hoping for. It wasn't difficult seeing he was very used to having his orders obeyed, that hardness in his light eyes undoubtedly helping to make it happen, but I was too used to the displeasure of dangerous men to take much notice of it any longer.

  "I don't intend having trouble over anything," I answered with a shrug, then sat down on the floor and leaned back against the log wall
under the window. "As I said before, you're free to do as you like. Just. let me know when you discover we should have taken to the road after all. I want the chance to say, 'I told you so.'"

  "I hate disappointing you, but you won't be getting that chance," he came back, moving into the middle of the room. "This house will give us a place to stay for the night, and those chickens outside will give us something to eat. I found some leather in the next room, probably left behind because it was badly tanned, but the bottoms of your feet won't know the difference. And on top of all the rest we'll have the chance to talk here, something I think we need more than food and shelter."

  The look in his eyes had turned odd, but he was gone from the room before I could decide just what the oddness entailed. I couldn't imagine what he wanted to talk about, unless he intended being silly enough to threaten me. That would be just like the cowardly vermin he and his associates were, but if they were expecting to get anywhere with the tactic they were in for disappointment.

  He was back in just a few minutes with a double armload of the chopped wood I'd seen stacked at the side of the house, and part of the load went into the hearth to be lit by the flame-starter in his belt pouch. I certainly expected to be given chores of my own to do, and was surprised when I didn't have to bother refusing. It occurred to me that in his place I wouldn't have been too eager to eat anything I'd had a chance at, and he was most likely looking at it in the same way. He went outside again once the fire was well started, and this time stayed out there for quite a while.

  I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep until my eyes opened again, showing me that darkness had come. I was stretched out on my left side on the floor. and the brightness of the fire in the hearth was enough to make me look away. I sat up rubbing the back of my neck, wondering what could have caused me to drop off like that, as though I were exhausted after hours and hours of fighting. I couldn't remember being more than very faintly weary. so it didn't make any sense.

  ''In case you're wondering, you still have to have traces of the swamp mist in you," I was told, the words soft and easy. ''You'll know it's completely gone when you can sit down for a few minutes without falling asleep.''

  I looked over to the left of the hearth from where his voice had come, and saw him sitting down leaning against the wall. the very edge of the fire-glow touching him. So that was the name of what had been used to put me out, swamp mist, and wasn't it pure coincidence that he happened to know.

  ''You have to be hungry after not eating all day,'' he said, moving slowly where he sat so as not to jostle whatever it was I could just see in his lap. "Cat, here, and I have already had our meal, so what's left is yours. Wait just a minute and I'll get it."

  ''Don't bother," I said before he could coax the cat he'd mentioned out of his lap. ''If I want something to eat, I'll get it for myself."

  I leaned back against the wall again, finding it not difficult at all to put off the thought of eating. I wouldn't have taken anything from him even if I'd been starving, but I wasn't even really hungry. I decided I was feeling a little too vague to be hungry, and let it go at that.

  ''All right, so our talk gets to come first,'' he said with a sigh, lifting the cat out of his lap before rising and walking over to sit again beside me to my right. ''I doubt if anyone can say we've been blending beautifully since the first time we met, and it doesn't make much sense to let it go on like this. I think we ought to try to be friends.''

  "And I think I’d rather pick my own friends,'' I answered, not bothering to look at him. ''I'm a big girl now, and I've even learned to tell the difference between people I like and those I don't. Guess which category you fall into.''

  ''How many tries do I get?" he asked, sounding the least bit tired. ''Look, I know I was hard on you this afternoon, but you have to understand that it's my responsibility to get you safely home. If I'd let you half cripple me because your mood had soured, I’d hardly have been in a position to do what I had to. Are you going to hold that against me for the rest of our lives?"

  “Possibly for the rest of yours," I allowed, watching the flames jump in the hearth. ''I expect my own life to be a good deal longer - starting from the minute I get my hands on a weapon.''

  ''I don't believe I could have been disappointed at the thought of having a shy and gentle woman for a wife," he muttered, stirring where he sat. "I can tell you right now that your attitude is going to dim the golden glow of our marriage even before it's properly begun. How can I make you happy if all you're interested in is coming after me with a sword in your hand and blood in your eye?"

  "You can manage it by standing still," I answered with satisfaction, feeling the pleasure of it in my imagination. "And you can also stop worrying about something that will never happen. I wouldn't marry you even if you decided to cut me down right now.''

  ''Something like that would take the attraction out of our wedding night,'' he said, his tone having gone dry again. ''It might make for a more pleasant time in later years, but at the moment the idea doesn't have much appeal. And that would be a good argument for my having lost interest in our betrothal. Why would you think I'd want to end our betrothal?"

  I felt enough annoyance at that to turn my head to look at him, and found a very bland expression looking back at me out of the dimness. It was clear he had a reason for wanting me alive, but I didn't yet know what it was.

  ''What you want doesn't particularly matter," I said, disliking the way those eyes gazed directly at me. "What I want is more to the point, and I think I've made myself clear about that. If you ever find anyone crazy enough to marry you, you can be certain it won't be me.''

  ''You seem to have a lot of trouble remembering that you're promised to me,'' he observed, reaching out a big hand to push a strand of hair from my shoulder. ''Your father personally registered the match at Court, which means he's responsible for producing my bride. If you refuse to go through with it, he's the one who will have to face the consequences."

  ''I can face my own consequences!" I snapped, immediately even angrier as I tried to knock his hand away and missed when he moved it fast out of my reach. ''If I go to the King and tell him I’m the one who refuses the match, he'll have to leave my father alone.''

  ''The Law won't allow King Klieant to leave your father alone,'' he retorted, leaning away from the wall. ''The Laws were established in the first place to keep peace among the nobility, since the breaking of a ducal betrothal contract has been known to lead to war between the duchies. Even if my father doesn't press the matter, your father will spend years paying off the fines involved, and that could very well be the least of it. Most women aren't like you, Sofaltis, so there's no provision made for refusal on the part of the bride. If the wedding doesn't take place, no one but your father will be blamed.''

  ''But that's not fair!" I shouted, throwing myself to my feet to stride to the fire. ''It's my life and my decision, and I'll make the King see that even if I have to cut down every half-baked Fighter who tries to keep me from him!''

  I stood in front of the hearth with my arms wrapped around me, not against an outer chill but an inner one. I couldn't be so completely trapped, I just couldn't be, it simply wasn't fair! The man was an enemy, for Evon's sake! The Law couldn't still demand that I marry him!

  ''It might have been your decision if you'd been born a peasant,'' his voice came from behind me, unbelievably sounding sympathetic and compassionate. "As someone who was nobly born, you have no more choice than the rest of us. I agree that it isn't fair, but it's already done and nothing can change that. And it could have been considerably worse. You might have been bound to someone who had no interest in you as an individual at all. I may not look like the best of all possible mates right now, but I can certainly assure you my interest isn’t in any way lacking.''

  His hands came to my arms at that, stroking gently over the tunic sleeves, just as though he were telling the truth. It would have helped if he really was a friend rather than an enemy, but other than
that it made no difference at all. If I didn't cooperate my father would be dishonored and ruined, something he'd made very clear.

  ''If you're trying to make me believe I'm the only thing you're interested in, you're wasting your time,'' I said, acting as though I didn't notice his hands on me. ''If not for what comes along with me, your interest would undoubtedly be as intense as most men's toward a female Blade. And if you want to discuss convenient memory lapses, let's talk about yours in relation to me. How much good will being my father's heir do you if you have to put up with the sort of married life I'm prepared to supply? And not only prepared, but eager and willing?"

  ''What sort of life would that be?" he asked, his voice now wary and his hands stilled. ''I'm prepared to concede you quite a lot of freedom, but there are certain things-"

  ''Concede me?'' I said with a short laugh, stepping away from his hands and then turning to face him. ''See what I mean about your memory lapses? Why would I need any freedom conceded to me, when I already have it all? I can make you the biggest laughingstock in the entire kingdom, and have fun every minute I'm doing it. You won't have to worry about turning your back on me, because I won't wait for your back to be turned. Every bit of what I do will be right out in the open, where you - and everyone else - can see it.''

  "Now let's take it easy and discuss this calmly," he said in response to my growing enthusiasm, trying not to sound as worried as he undoubtedly was. "You're talking about doing 'everything' out in the open, but you know and I know there are quite a lot of things you couldn't do without disgracing your family as well as me. Since you'd never disgrace your family, there aren't - ''

  ''Is that so?" I interrupted again, folding my arms and smiling happily as I looked up at him. ''You think I'd worry about disgracing a family that was going to have you at its head? I think the first thing I'll do is ride around to visit the counts and barons - and challenge their chief Fighters after insulting them personally. And of course I’ll have very public arrangements made with every night house in Gensea, to be sure the ones I choose as my favorites will be available when I want them. Drinking contests at the taverns, riding out with the City Guard when there's nothing more interesting to do, maybe even starting my own Sword Company. . ."