Servant of the Serpent (Serpent's War Book 1) (7 page)

Chapter 7

“Turn the blade! No—don’t step back, you— Bah!”

Allie stepped back and turned to place her hands on her hips. She was breathing hard and sweat plastered the tunic she wore to her skin. The padded jerkin her dad insisted she wear when training was on the ground nearby. It was too hot for it. “Grandpa, you can’t yell at me while I’m fighting. It’s distracting!”

“Then do the right thing!” Bucknar snapped. “You’d have your young arse in a sling if your foe knew what he was doing.”

“Hey!” Talwin, her younger training partner, said. Bucknar and Allie both ignored him.

Allie plucked at the neckline of her tunic, peeling it away from her skin and fanning herself with air. Nonplussed by the way that Talwin’s eyes widened as he stared at her, she said, “I’m in the middle of a fight! If I try to think about what you’re saying and how I can do it, he’s going to hurt me.”

Bucknar scowled and motioned with his hands. “Fine. Again. Talwin, show her no mercy, boy.”

Talwin raised his wooden practice sword and waited for Allie to let go of her shirt and turn back to face him. Bucknar scowled and shook his head. Before he could rebuke the boy for not pressing an advantage, he lifted his sword-shaped stick overhead and jumped at her.

Allie cried out in fear, causing Talwin to slow and look uncertain. He landed wrong, stealing his momentum and power, and then had his sword knocked from his hand by Allie’s stick. Allisandra swung back and slapped her sword against his side, earning a grunt from him. She drew it across as though disemboweling him and then she leapt back.

“See, I’m a good fighter,” Allie said.

“You’re a fool,” Bucknar snapped at Talwin.

“She cheated!” Talwin cried while rubbing his side. “I thought she was hurt.”

Bucknar waved him away. “Give me that stick,” he snapped.

Talwin jogged over to his dropped practice sword and brought it to Bucknar. “She’s tricky,” Talwin warned.

“You’re thinking like you’re a boy and she’s a girl,” Bucknar chided him.

“I am! And she is!”

“Not in a fight you isn’t,” the old man said. “Watch, boy, and learn what will keep you alive.”

“Grandpa, come on—hey!” Allie jumped back as Bucknar’s sword swished through the air where her head had been. She jerked her sword up and settled into the stance her father had taught her.

Bucknar advanced, knees bent and sword at the ready. He poked out at her a few times and then swung at her legs, forcing her to leap up and back. He followed her, keeping her off balance and listening to her hiss and grunt as she blocked or dodged his strikes. He stayed on the offensive, knocking her wooden sword aside time and again and leaving her thighs, hips, and arms bruised from strikes against it.

“Grandpa!” Allie yelped when she’d had enough.

“I’m not your grandpa,” he barked at her and drove his wooden sword towards her side.

She caught it with hers and held him at bay with a trembling arm. Her lips parted in a snarl that showed her clenching her teeth as she struggled. Sweat ran down her face.

Bucknar rolled his sword over hers as he’d taught her and jerked his wrist and elbow up. Her sword went flying up and over her shoulder, barely missing her face. Bucknar lunged in and drove the rounded point of his wooden sword into her chest.

Allie’s grunt was part scream and part air bursting from her chest. She fell back and hit the ground bottom first. Her upper back and head smacked next, causing her to bounce back up and catch herself on her hands and elbows.

“I’m an opponent who knows it’s my life or yours,” Bucknar said. He rocked back and lowered his sword to his side. In seconds, it became a cane to help him walk. “Now get up and take this serious.”

“You hurt me,” Allie whispered. She reached up to rub her chest. “That really hurt!”

“I took it easy on you,” Bucknar growled.

She clamped her mouth shut and glanced at Talwin. He was staring at her, but not at her face. His eyes were lower. She followed his gaze and saw her tunic was pulled up and left her midriff exposed. The rest of her tunic was soaked with her sweat and clinging to her chest. Her eyes narrowed. She’d thought Talwin was a friend. Someone she could rely on. Someone who cared about her.

Her father was right. He was a boy. A boy who wanted a girl for what she could do for him—cook and clean and make babies. Her dad said most men never get past that. He’d also said he used to be that way too.

Allie rolled onto her hip and then her hands and knees. She climbed to her feet and walked over to where her sword had fallen. She picked it up and swung it a few times, loosening up her muscles. “I’ll try harder,” she promised, her gaze focused on Talwin.

“What about you?” Bucknar asked as he turned to give Talwin the evil eye. “Or do I need to beat you down too?”

Talwin jumped. “No, sir! I’ll fight.”

“Like you mean it,” Bucknar growled. “Like she’s not a she, but a bandit who’s already killed your dad and wants to steal your sister as soon as he’s done with you.”

Talwin’s nostrils flared at the thought. He stiffened and caught the sword Bucknar tossed him. He nodded and turned Allie.

“Now get her. Stop her,” Bucknar ordered.

Talwin started forward and then hesitated when Allie charged him. She cried out and slammed her sword into his, knocking him back a half-step and leaving him confused and on the defensive.

Two more strikes drove his sword down and to the side before she kicked her leg out and swept his left leg across. Talwin cried out and went down under the backhand slash that smashed her training sword into his shoulder and chest. He hit the ground hard enough to make Bucknar wince.

Allie stood over him while Talwin rocked back and forth and finally managed to gasp in a fresh breath. He groaned and rolled away, but couldn’t get back to his feet. Talwin clutched his shoulder and began to breathe through clenched teeth. He blinked back the tears.

“Saints, girl, you busted his arm,” Bucknar muttered. “Back up.”

Bucknar knelt down and pushed Talwin’s hand away from his arm. He poked and squeezed, drawing gasps and cries from Talwin while he tested the injury. He frowned and shook his head before helping the pale-faced boy to his feet. “Go to Saint Leander’s shrine; they’ll do what they can.”

“Can’t afford it,” Talwin whimpered.

“Tell them I sent you. They sell faith and empty promises. Healing and a sling I’ll handle.”

Talwin nodded and turned away. Allie stepped around Bucknar and in his way, causing him to flinch. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just wanted to prove I wasn’t just some stupid girl good for nothing but cooking and making babies.”

Talwin offered a thin smile and nodded. “It’s okay. Just, um, don’t tell anyone?”

Allie frowned and then nodded. She stepped away before he could see the annoyed look on her face. She watched him stumble off and head down the road towards Saint Leander’s shrine. When she shook her head and turned back, her grandfather had picked up Talwin’s sword. “Don’t tell anyone?” she repeated.

Bucknar nodded. “Doesn’t want no one knowing he got beat up by a girl.”

She snorted. “He made me mad—the way he was looking at me, I mean.”

Her grandpa nodded. “He’s a boy and you’re a pretty girl. Prime age for marrying, too. You did good. You were mad but you kept your head and fought with skill and strength. I should have knocked some sense into you years ago.”

Allie reached up to rub her chest. She pulled her tunic out and stared down at the purple coloring that was spreading from where he’d jabbed her. She let the tunic fall back against her chest and sniffed. “Dad and you never talk about girls much. Were you ever married?”

He chuckled. “I had my share of romances, but nothing lasted.”

“Wait—what about Dad? Weren’t you married?”

Bucknar cursed. “He never told you, did he?”

“Told me? What?”

Bucknar sighed. “My sister was your dad’s mom. I took care of her when her man was killed fighting splisskin.”

“You’re not my real grandpa?” Allie gasped. “What happened to her?”

“Fever got her,” Bucknar said. “Your dad was almost four by then. Far as he knew, I was his dad. I didn’t bother telling him until you came along.”

Allie nodded and plucked at her shirt to fan herself with the hot air. “He doesn’t talk about Mom either. I got him to admit they weren’t married once, but that was all he’d say.”

Bucknar glanced around and turned to the house. He saw her padded tunic on the ground and nodded at it. “Best pick up your things and get cleaned up.”

“Grandpa—”

“Thought you said I wasn’t your real grandpa?”

She waved his comment aside with a hand. “You’re as real as can be,” she said. “Nobody else, not even Dad, would have knocked me on my arse like that.”

“Hey,” Bucknar growled. “Watch your tongue!”

She nodded. “Sorry.”

“Good, now get to it. I’ve got to wander through town and check on a few things. My joints will be hurting by then. All this fighting is for younger people like you. We’ll have supper when I get back.”

“Grandpa,” Allie said, freezing him in place as he started to turn away. “Why won’t either of you tell me anything about my mom? She was my mom—I should know about her.”

Bucknar’s cheeks clenched as he bit down. “That’s not my story to tell.”

“Why not? You knew her, didn’t you? Is she really dead, or did something else happen?”

“Oh, she’s dead all right,” Buckner said and then sighed. “Look, Allie, she died in a fire. That’s near all I can say about it.”

Allie’s eyes widened. “All you know, or all you can say?”

Her grandfather looked away and then stared up at the sky through slitted eyes. He shook his head. “This isn’t my job,” he muttered.

“Grandpa—”

Bucknar spun on her. “I’ve got things to do. Almont can get by without me, sure, but I need some time to think and figure things. You do what I told you and do some studying in them books of yours. Tonight we’ll talk. I don’t know what we’ll talk about, but I’ll say what I can.”

Allie’s breath caught in her throat. She nodded and bit her lip before rushing to him and hugging him. When she let go a moment later, she saw his scowl fading. He sighed and shook his head. “Get cleaned up. Hugging you is like squeezing a sheet in the wash.”

Allie nodded. “I’ll head up to the river and wash up north of town.”

Bucknar frowned. “By yourself?”

“Of course!”

“You be careful. Damn careful.”

“Grandpa!” Allie chided him. “I know to watch for snakes and such. It’s the middle of the afternoon. None of the desert cats or even the giant sand crabs are out.”

“I’m worried about the animals on two legs,” Bucknar said. “You’re in your prime, girl.”

She made a face. “I’ll take my real sword then.”

“That thing wouldn’t cut butter fresh off a churn. Get my blade out of my room; it’s in the trunk.”

“Your sword?” she gasped.

He nodded. “Go,” he snapped. “And whatever else you need.”

Allie grinned and rushed inside, jogging to the house and then moving into her grandfather’s small bedroom. She flipped up the latch on the trunk at the foot of his bed and opened it, and then lifted his aged leather armor out and set it on the floor. She found his sword and two daggers beneath, but only took out the sword and the matching belt it hung from. Allie replaced the leather and shut the trunk before standing up and girding the sword on her waist.

She grinned again and pulled his sword out, admiring it. She could smell the oil on the curved blade and knew better than to test the edge. It looked sharp enough her father could shave with it. That was good enough for her. She sheathed it and rushed up the ladder to the small loft where her bed was at. She dug through her pack to fetch out fresh clothes and then hurried down and back out of the house.

Bucknar was gone. She looked around but couldn’t see him. Her padded armor was hanging from a nail in the wall of the shed, reminding her she hadn’t done as he’d asked. Yet. She had time after she cleaned herself to do his bidding. With that thought in mind, she took off at a run to the north, heading along the road and out of town until she could veer to the left and make her way to the edge of the Silverflake River.

Allie wandered upstream, her hand on the hilt of her grandfather’s sword but her mind elsewhere. She didn’t know about the fire. Her father had spoken so little about her mom she wasn’t even sure of her name. Once he’d called her Cassandra and said that her name, Allisandra, came from her mother. But he’d never uttered it again and seemed to ignore it when Allie had used it to speak of her.

What was so bad about her mom that her dad wouldn’t talk about her? If she’d died in a fire, maybe that was part of the answer. Had her dad been unable to save her? Was he away guarding a merchant at the time? Or maybe the fire had been so bad he hadn’t been able to get to her and rescue her. Or worse, had it been his fault?

Allie gasped and jerked to a halt. Would that make him refuse to speak of it? Was her dad ashamed? Was he guilty? Did he feel like he’d ruined her life?