Chương 65: Chapter 64

Sweat dripped down my brow as I gave ground, my sword swinging from left to right, warding off my two assailants. They didn't allow me a moment's respite, both of them stepping clumsily into the gap I left behind and banging into each other's shoulders. Not one to leave an advantage untaken, I stepped right and slapped Brin hard on the side of her leg using the flat of my practice blade just as she was stepping forward.

The nine-year-old girl fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs, her fiery orange hair dragging through the dirt while her green eyes flashed with a barely banked fury. I ignored her seething anger, thinking it looked better on her than the cloud of sadness she carried with her when she wasn't practising. Instead, my focus was on my final opponent. Etta managed to extract herself from the collision and squared back up, adopting the standard stance of the Hunting Wolf sword style.

Her lithe build was suited to the style as she held her practice blade out in one hand while the other hung back. George had strapped some weight to all of our empty hands to represent the weight of a buckler or vambrace. The makeshift shield was anything but, none of us willing to try and defend with it. I took the initiative — not just because it was the smart thing to do — but because I knew Etta wouldn't and I didn't want to spend the next five minutes walking in circles waiting for her to make a move.

When it came to swordplay, she was hesitant and defensive. Perhaps I was partly to blame for that, or maybe it was just her nature. Either way it meant that if I wanted the spar to progress, I needed to be the one to make it happen. Stepping forward quickly, I feinted a slash at her stomach. She did the right thing — if it hadn't been a feint — and stepped to her right, trying to parry the strike.

Instead, I slowed the hit to tangle our wooden swords together before giving her blade a shove to throw her off balance. By the time she had recovered from the push, my blade was resting near her neck.

"That's three to Bastian and zero to you girls. You need to be more aware of your surroundings. Not just of your target, but who is near you, friend or foe, and where they're going," George admonished. I was feeling a little smug and trying to keep it from showing on my face as Brin and Etta muttered their apologies. Either George knew that I was getting a bit too full of myself, or he just didn't care, as he cut me down with his words as well.

"And Bastian, stop waiting for them to make a mistake. You need to force the issue when outnumbered. In a fight, numbers matter; and letting your opponents dictate the pace means that even if you're the better swordsman. You'll eventually lose if your enemies can work together well enough." I hung my head a little. George was right. In a way, I was taking the easy way out. The girls just had a tendency to get in each other's way.

You would think with Brin being so aggressive and Etta so defensive that they would work together well with defined roles. Instead, the opposite was true. With Brin trying to make sure she didn't rush ahead of Etta while Etta fought her own nature and tried to be a little more aggressive, at least till she was the only one left. So, like a shyster or trickster, I took the easy way out each round and let them defeat themselves while I did a little fancy footwork with a feint or two to seal the deal.

It was cheap, and I knew I should push myself more.

"Sorry, George. I'll do better next time!"

"You'll do better this time," George corrected, pointing with his own wooden sword at Brin and Etta.

"You two, take turns. The aggressor will repeat Stalking Prey into Wolf's Paw followed by Warden's Lunge. The defender will repeat Prowling Circle into Den's Mouth finishing with Shedding Fur." The girls nodded. I watched as they assumed their positions. Etta, to no surprise, opted to be the defender first. Then I didn't have any more time to think about them. George came at me, moving no faster than I did and matching my strength. Even restraining himself he blasted through my attempted defence at every turn.

My attacks opened me up to counterattacks in ways I hadn't considered, and my defences left me in increasingly worse positions as though George were a chess grandmaster moving me exactly where he wanted me. My mother said nothing from where she worked in the garden as George slowly pummeled me across the rocky ground of the backyard. While I got dustier and dustier with every exchange, George continued to look like he was just taking a casual stroll around the backyard.

His short cut brown hair was still clean and his brown-eyed gaze relaxed in the afternoon mountain air. By the time George was done with me, I was ready to collapse, and the sun was starting to set. He stepped back, tucking his sword away. I took that as permission to plonk my ass down on the ground. My white, woolen shirt was soaked through with sweat, and my normally tan skin was covered in dust, which meant my hair was too.

Mum was definitely going to make me wash it tonight while she cooed about the coppery curls.

"Don't sit down," George called.

"Obstacle course run to cool down — half speed." With a trio of groans, we all climbed back to our feet, tucking our swords into our leather belts. We weren't allowed to leave the wooden blades behind. The added weight of our faux shield didn't help either. Then as a group we started to traverse my obstacle course. Brin went first, as while I might be able to beat her at swordplay despite our age and size difference, the same could not be said of how quickly she could traverse my obstacle course.

My Stats might be higher, but they were working with a younger model and the older girl had four years on me. Stolen novel; please report. Etta, despite being a year older than me, went last. My higher Stats were enough to bridge the gap between us in terms of physical development. Still, I glanced back once or twice to make sure she was keeping up a decent pace as we ran, jumped, balanced, and climbed across the obstacle course that Gramps had paid Griselda to build for me.

Etta's dark brown hair had come free from her tie during the afternoon training and it blew in her face, hiding her blue eyes more than once. Even with the inconvenience she managed to finish the obstacle course in a decent amount of time. As soon as she finished, she joined Brin and I in puffing to catch our breath.

"That'll do for today," George said, sounding a little too pleased with himself. He motioned for Etta to join him.

"I'll see you all tomorrow, same time."

"Thank you Mister Miller," Brin offered politely. I simply grunted, still catching my breath. George had pushed me far harder than the girls in our one on one training, as he usually did. Brin gave me a small nod of acknowledgement, her eyes hard. Then she turned and started walking toward the outpost, headed for her home across the street.

At first, I had taken it easier on the older girl, thinking that in her fragile emotional state at the loss of her father and brother she wouldn't be up to handling more defeats. Instead, the opposite was true. She had flown into a rage at me for allowing her to get a few hits in. Since then I had treated her far more brutally than I did Etta, which weirdly made Brin far calmer and less prone to outbursts. I think the improvement in our friction filled relationship was appreciated by both of us.

I finally stood up and followed my mother inside.

"A wash before dinner?" she suggested. I agreed with another grunt. Dinner would taste better without dust in my mouth, and I would feel a lot better in a shirt that wasn't sticking to me because of all the sweat. Gramps helpfully warmed up a tub of water large enough for me to sit in. I got to work with a rag while Mum left with my dirty clothes, returning before a minute had passed. It wasn't exactly safe to leave a kid alone in a tub of water, and I had yet to start learning how to swim in this world.

Not that I didn't remember, but Mum and Gramps obviously didn't know that. As I washed away the dirt and grime, I considered the changes to our mountain community. It had been exactly one week since Mum and I returned from Magatha's to find House Firthholm laying claim to our 'village.' A new building had gone up next to the outpost on the eastern side to accommodate their forces. The fort — because that is the only way it could be described — was made of Horndale pine.

Trees were obviously abundant in the area, and they had yet to recruit any masons, which made the palisade seem temporary as though they were invaders setting up shop in our community. The front entrance facing the road was decorated with two banners on either side of the door. Each one displayed a black tree on a white background — the sigil of House Firthholm. The noble herself, Lady Yalindra Firthtree, was only a cousin of the Count of Firthholm, making her a lesser noble without a true title.

That hadn't stopped her from whipping Brin's mum for impertinence though. If it had been me, I might have shown a little leniency to a woman who had just lost her husband and son in a Necromancer attack, but young Yalindra apparently had something of a chip on her shoulder. Thankfully, it had only been two cracks of the whip, and Mum had brought Dot — short for Dorothy — some salve for the welts.

The community so far had shown a certain level of disdain for Lady Yalindra, which didn't seem to bother the noble in the slightest so long as the insults were whispered over mugs of ale rather than shouted at her face. I guessed the woman didn't care so long as she was able to collect her tax in silver from the Horndale Mining Co. and the Kellins' trading post. The latter had Frederick muttering darkly every second night the past week as he sat at a table in the outpost with a few of the miners.

As for me, I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Although House Firthholm had made the first move they weren't the only noble House with an interest in the Northern Horndale Pass. That was doubly true now that the silver mine had been discovered. The Ducal House of Landrin of Meravia to our west would never simply let such a windfall go without a fight. By now, the merchants passing through would have shared news with them, and it was just a matter of time until they sent their own forces.

The questions were: How would it play out, and how would it affect me? I didn't have any answers yet, which left me feeling slightly irritated. I finished washing and got to work drying myself and getting dressed for dinner. Pulling my pants on I considered the two questions, avoiding the one thing I knew I needed to think about — coming clean with Mum and Gramps about my Path of Soulstealing. In the previous week, I had continued my aethersensing lessons with Gramps as though nothing had changed.

Even though I noticed the pockets of aether he produced quicker now — often beating Etta in detecting them — I had so far intentionally not pointed them out. My Path of Aethersensing and Path of Deception had both been feasting during those lessons. My steps were going up at a rate I would scarcely have believed just a month ago. Although my progress was amazing, my feelings on the matter were the exact opposite. I didn't like lying to the old man — or Mum.

Sure, a prank here or there was fun, but outright deceiving them left a bad taste in my mouth. I was pretty sure I had been having nightmares because of it. Well, from that and almost dying to a demon-possessed goblin. For now, I was blaming both, and while I couldn't change the past – nor would I want to since I defeated that goblin – I could do something about lying to my family.

Walking downstairs with Muffled Steps activated, mostly so I could work on developing the Skill, I slipped silently into the kitchen and took a seat next to Gramps. The old codger had glanced at me as I crept in, no doubt detecting my aether usage. Mum, however, was none the wiser and gave a little start when she noticed me before smiling at me ruefully.

The outpost wasn't empty, but with the kitchen door closed and Molly — another of the miners' wives — working the bar, we had a semblance of privacy in the kitchen. I steeled my nerves and looked at Mum.

"I have a secret to tell you both." Gramps huffed.

"Is this about how your aethersensing has improved?" I half-choked on my saliva. Maybe I hadn't been as circumspect as I'd thought.