Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(44)

“I can’t take the collar. I won’t. It’s yours. Will you come, show yourself to Mallick so he knows I’ve completed the second quest?”

As she rose, Mick poked at her back. “Can I touch him?”

“I wouldn’t,” Fallon said shortly. “Not after you talked about shooting an arrow at him.”

“Not at him. I’d never … He took food from your hand. He let you touch him.”

She glanced back, saw awe and a little fear on Mick’s face. “I’m the same person I was before. I have to skip the practice tonight. I need to tell Mallick.”

“Do you think Faol Ban will go with you?”

“It’s his choice, but I need to tell Mallick either way.”

Now with little to say, Mick walked with her to the edge of the woods.

“You could meet me in the afternoon tomorrow for more practice.” She sent him a glittering look. “Unless you’re afraid of me now.”

“I’m not afraid of you. Next time you swipe at me, I’ll swipe back.”

She shrugged that off, stepped into the clearing.

As if he knew, Mallick came out of the cottage and watched her walk with the owl on her arm, the wolf at her side under the light of the white moon.





CHAPTER NINE


Fallon’s initiation to swordplay left her considerably bruised and battered, and a lot determined. Her third and final quest left her baffled.

She argued about it as she worked to block and parry Mallick’s strikes and thrusts.

“But I have a horse. I have a great horse. Why do I need to find another one?”

She ended up on her butt again, and that abused area burned, yet again, at the rude contact with hard, frosty ground.

“Balance, girl. The sword is about more than strength and strike. Balance.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She got up, butt and sword arm aching, tried again. “And a golden saddle? That’s stupid. It would be too heavy, too hard.”

“If you think so, there’s no need for you to look.”

“I want a bathroom, so—” And once again, on her ass, this time with Mallick laying the charmed tip of his sword on her belly.

“Gutted.”

“Your sword’s longer than mine. So are your arms.”

“And do you expect to fight only those who are of your size?”

Stepping back, he gestured her up.

“I’m just pointing it out.”

She managed to block, stay on her feet. “Anyway, I’m going to look for the horse and the saddle, but I don’t need a horse and a saddle.” She blocked, and well, a second time. “What do I do with them if the horse comes with me like Taibhse and Faol Ban?”

“It might be a question to ask when and if you find them.”

“Oh, I’ll find them.”

Newly confident with a third successful block, she tried a thrust under Mallick’s guard.

He blocked, pivoted, and slapped the flat side of his sword hard enough on her aching butt to send her sprawling on her face.

“Damn it!”

“There will be times when you fight amid countless distractions, and still, without focusing on your opponent, you’ll fail. Put the quest out of your mind, put everything out of your mind but the sword, my sword, my body, your body. My eyes. And learn.”

She did her best to concentrate, and still ended up on her ass, on her knees, or with her face in the dirt. Often with a limb cut off, her throat slit, or some other part of her impaled.

At the end of the lesson, her sword arm wept, and her ass burned like the fires of hell.

As fall blew toward winter, she practiced, and though Mallick tended to be stingy with compliments, she knew she improved. To build her upper body strength, she started each morning with push-ups, like her father had shown her, and ended each session with some of the yoga her mother enjoyed to try to increase her flexibility and balance.

For more challenge, she scaled trees—she was getting better at it—and practiced yoga poses on a branch to increase balance and focus. Plus, that was just fun, and she imagined making her brothers laugh when she held a tree pose.

She’d be a tree in a tree.

She lifted buckets of water in curls and shoulder presses until her muscles trembled and burned.

When she was absolutely, positively sure no one could see her, she danced in hopes of improving her footwork.

She studied, the gods, the histories, the traditions, the magicks, practiced with Mick, and searched the woods for a white horse known as Laoch and his golden saddle.

With Mallick, she performed the ritual for Yule, lit the fires, the candles to represent the return of light after the darkest night of the winter solstice. She made and hung the wreath, the symbol of the Wheel of the Year.

Though she wished for a vision, for a night with her mother as she had had with Max, she felt only ripples of power, heard only the voices of the gods.

When the ritual was done, they left some of the cake for the birds, poured some of the wine on the ground for the goddess.

Her first Christmas away from home made her heart ache as keenly as it had when she’d ridden away from the farm. Even the Yule tree Mallick had allowed her to choose and light and decorate didn’t cheer her.

But the Wheel of the Year continued to turn, and turned into the next.