Chapter 12

Mato’s opponent was Lars, a young man just starting his beard. He was tall and blonde, and broad across the shoulders. Erik made him look small, but he was still a full head taller than Mato, and considerably heavier.

“Speed, Mato. If you try to go strength against strength he will crush you.”

“I noticed that,” Mato said.

Erik chuckled.

They took positions on opposite sides of the circle, and someone helped Mato get his shield set on his arm properly. Lief stepped up and raised an arm. When he dropped it he shouted, “Begin.”

Lars rushed him, and Mato braced himself and held his shield up. The blow smashed the shield and sent Mato sprawling. His left arm felt like it might be broken, but it flexed properly. He shrugged, pushed himself to his feet, and went back to get another shield. Then he looked at Lars, who gave him a wink.

How was he supposed to do this? He had no training with shields. The thing just slowed him down and prevented him from using some of the forms Ezhno taught. Mato stepped forward without a shield.

“Are you certain?” Lief asked.

Mato nodded.

Lars rushed again, shield forward, sword poking over the top right side. Mato feinted toward the strong side, then went to the weak side instead. His sword crashed against Lars’ shin, and the big man grunted.

Mato danced backward, evading a couple of swings, then repeated the move and hit Lars in exactly the same spot again.

“Aarrr.”

The growl made Mato’s hair stand up, but he placed himself, then went around the strong side and whacked the other leg.

Lars growled and changed his stance to put his sword forward and his shield back. It was clear he intended to make Mato work around his superior reach.

Mato came in low, deflected the sword, spun around the shield as Lars whipped it forward, and swiped his sword across Lars’ hamstrings. As the big man tried to turn to face him, Mato tangled his feet, then dragged him over onto his back. An instant later Mato had his sword point on Lar’s throat.

“A fatal blow,” Lief said. “The match is over. Well done, Mato Stone Foot.”

Mato offered Lars a hand, and was nearly pulled over trying to help the big man up.

“Trading safety for speed,” Lars said. “Risky, but clearly effective. I will remember this lesson.”

“And I will remember the strength of northmen,” Mato said. He offered Lars a hand, and they shook.

The applause around them was infectious, and Mato smiled at his opponent, who grinned back.

The blonde daughter came to Mato and put her hand on his arm. “You have done well. Not well enough to deserve me, but I suppose luck will have to erase the difference.”

“I, uh, don’t know how to talk to a princess,” Mato said.

The redhead took Lars’ hand and laughed. “A princess, indeed. This boy hasn’t been out much.”

“Quiet, Consolation Prize,” the blonde laughed. The redhead stuck her tongue out and sphputtered at them.

Someone started playing a flute, and the blonde dragged Mato through the first steps of a dance. He did his best, and while he was far from smooth, he managed not to step on her feet.

“You must be Hilda,” Mato said.

“I am indeed.”

“You were right. I have no business dancing with a woman as beautiful as you.”

She laughed and twirled them along the edge of one of the fires. “Keep flattering me. It won’t get you everything, but it might get you something.”

Mato’s face flushed and his little spirit decided to join the party.

Her hips brushed against him, and she laughed that musical laugh. “You’re not listening, Mato. That definitely counts as everything.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and tried to let go of her, but she pulled him closer.

“You’re not getting away just because you’re embarrassed.”

“Um. I love your horses.”

She pulled his face up to her neck. She smelled of honey and apricots.

“They are magnificent. Without them this journey would be impossible.”

“Then I really love them,” Mato said.

She giggled. “Well done. That was the right thing to say. You also fought well.”

“I don’t know how to fight with a shield, and letting him hit me without a shield seemed dangerous.”

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They twirled through a lively part of the song--the music really was excellent.

“You’re right about that. Lars is the strongest of the young men, though it will be many years before he can stand beside men like Lief, let alone Father.”

“How do you get so strong?” Mato asked.

“We chop wood, carry water, hew stone, and we train for battle.”

“You too?”

“Of course. Don’t women learn to fight in Abo?”

Mato shook his head. “Not usually. Some do, but most of the guards are men. I don’t know if there has ever been a woman trail master.”

“How far have you traveled?” she asked.

Mato chuckled. “Right here is the farthest I have ever been. This is my first trip outside of Abo.”

“I like men who do not brag, and everyone starts somewhere. I am fortunate to be here on your first adventure.”

“You think you’re fortunate? How do you think I feel? First among my people to meet a northman, and then to dance with one… I’m going to be a legend.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t brag now, but you intend to once you return home?”

Mato tried to think of a good way to rephrase that, and failed. “I danced with one of the most beautiful women in the world. I have to say something.”

The music tapered off, and she leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “You’re very sweet, Mato.”

“Get your lecherous hands off of my daughter!” Erik roared.

Mato leaped backward, holding his hands out where Erik could see them.

Erik doubled over laughing, then after a wheezing minute he walked over to Mato and put a hand on his shoulder. “Not you, boy. Lars. He was getting a bit familiar.”

“Intruder!” someone screamed from the forest. The sounds of running and branches breaking ensued.

“If there’s one, there are more!” Erik bellowed. “Get out there and find them.”

About half of the men scattered into the bushes, making a rather noisy effort to find more spies.

“That should take care of that,” Erik said. “If Lief can’t find them, they deserve to learn something.”

Erik turned to Ezhno. “It seems my people are a little behind. Care to try a game of shields?”

“I would,” Ezhno said.

“Excellent. Winner to dance with my wife, Thyra.” He lifted a hand and gestured toward the third tent.

The woman that exited had blonde hair in a thick braid to her ankles. Her eyes were ice blue in the firelight, and she had the finest figure Mato had ever seen.

“Close your mouth, you’re drooling,” Hilda whispered in his ear.

Mato shut his mouth and glanced at Ezhno. He saw the twitch in the side of his teacher’s eye. There was no way Ezhno would risk dancing with that woman. He was clearly going to throw the match against Erik.

“Don’t you have beautiful women in Abo?” Hilda asked.

“Of course. My mother is highly thought of.”

“Then why are you so clumsy around us?”

Mato looked at his boots. “I, uh, am not very smooth with the ladies at home. Plus, you have such enchanting hair and eyes. All of us have black or brown for our hair and our eyes.”

“You should learn to step up to new challenges, not faint before them,” Hilda said. Erik snorted, and Mato looked up at him.

“It’s good advice,” Erik said, spreading his hands.

When the circle was ready again, Ezhno and Erik stepped in. Ezhno clearly had some experience with a shield. No one had to help him seat it on his arm. Then Thyra started the match.

The sword and shield looked comical on Erik’s massive arms, but despite his bulk he moved easily.

Ezhno feinted and Erik moved one leg out of the way. Ezhno approached, and Erik responded with a swing much like Lars’. Ezhno bent backward, and the sword flashed over him.

Gradually the two men sped up, working their way around each other, attacking and defending. And then Erik leaped forward. His sword whistled in the air, and Ezhno’s shield exploded.

Mato’s eyes widened. “Ezhno!”

Ezhno picked himself up from the dirt and flexed his arm experimentally. “Don’t worry, Mato. All part of my plan.”

Erik smirked at him. “Perhaps you need a better plan.”

“That is possible.”

They circled again, but Erik pressed him, and soon Ezhno was circling backward at nearly a run. Then the sword connected again, and Ezhno went down. This time he rolled with the blow, and though his shield was broken, it wasn’t in a hundred pieces.

“I don’t think I quite have the hang of this yet,” Ezhno said as he went to get his final shield.

“You’re learning fast,” Erik said. “I think I need to hurry before you figure me out.”

Ezhno got himself set, then tapped his blade against his shield.

“Hold on,” Erik said. “I’m not quite ready.” He set his sword down, then took off his shield and switched it to his right arm. Then he picked the sword up in his left hand. Tap. Tap.

Ezhno tried to rush, but Erik was faster with his left hand. They traded blows a few times, then backed apart. Ezhno closed in again, and Erik’s sword whipped forward. Ezhno ducked, and the sword passed over him, but Erik’s massive boot slammed into his shield and sent him flying.

The people around the fires clapped and cheered, but Mato went for Ezhno’s sword, then ran back to his teacher.

“You look hurt.”

Ezhno took the sword in a shaking hand. “Broken ribs.”

“You have healing on your blade?” Erik asked as he squatted next to them.

“Yes. Water of life.”

“Bring him a cup,” Erik said. A few seconds later Freya joined them and handed Ezhno a copper cup.

“My apologies,” Erik said.

Ezhno waved him off. “No need. I wanted that bout at least as bad as you did. It will be some time before I want another though.”

Erik laughed gently. “I think I have your measure. You’re a good man. I can especially see it in your student.”

“You too are a good man,” Ezhno said. “Better than I. You have my word that I will keep your secrets, and do everything in my ability to keep peace between our people.”

They clasped hands. Then there was a few minutes of small talk while Ezhno drank eight cups of healing water.

As beautiful as Freya was, Mato found himself wishing she would stand back and let him focus on Hilda. They were both lovely company, but something was different with the younger sister. A feeling very like understanding had passed between them.

When he was finished dosing himself with water, Ezhno thanked their hosts, and they walked back toward Nambe.

Mato checked on his teacher every few steps, but Ezhno did what he recommended and figured out how to walk without apparent discomfort.