Once a Warrior by Karyn Monk Read Free Book Online

fight if you stop every time you inflict one little bruise?” growled Malcolm impatiently.
    “I hit him harder than I should have,” explained Andrew, casting Duncan an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry.”
    “Tell him you’re bloody sorry afterward, but get on with it! And you,” he continued, scowling at Ariella, “I’ve seen children of four summers fight with more conviction. Hit Gavin like your life depends on it.”
    “I don’t want to hurt him,” objected Ariella.
    “You won’t hurt me, lad,” Gavin assured her cheerfully. “Go ahead. Give me your worst.”
    Ariella hesitated.
    “Do it,” commanded Malcolm, “or I’ll fight you myself. And I vow I won’t be nearly as easy on you as Gavin has been.”
    She gave him a withering look.
    “Imagine Gavin has come to attack your home,” Malcolm instructed harshly. “He has already butchered two of your clansmen. Now he is about to cut you in half with his sword. After you’re dead, he will ransack your home, brutalize your clan’s women and children, and set everything afire. You have no weapon. What are you going—”
    Rage was surging through Ariella long before he finished. Overwhelmed with hideous memories, she flew at Gavin. He waved his sword before him, but Ariella already knew how to deal with the weapon. She scooped up a fistful of dirt and hurled it at Gavin’s eyes. He blinked and shook his head, his sword lowered, and Ariella rammed her knee into his groin. Gavin gasped in pain and dropped to his knees. Panting, Ariella turned to look at Malcolm.
    “Very good,” said Malcolm, masking his surprise. “Except you should have taken his sword and run him through.”
    Gavin groaned. “I think that’s enough training for today,” he suggested, his voice strained. “The boy can run me through tomorrow.”
    Malcolm felt the corners of his mouth twitch. “Help your opponent to his feet, Rob. I think poor Gavin has discovered you are a more formidable adversary than your size indicates.” He began to limp away.
    Ariella went to Gavin and offered her hand. “I am truly sorry, Gavin,” she apologized. “I did not mean to hurt you.”
    “That’s all right, lad,” he said, rising to his feet. “It was worth it.”
    Ariella frowned. “Why?”
    “That is the closest I’ve seen him smile in over three years,” he replied, looking almost jubilant. “And for that, I’d gladly let you knock me down again.”
                      
    Warm light grazed his face, rousing him. His familiar enemy was there to greet him, hacking through muscles, stiffening his back and limbs. But his head was oddly clear, allowing the cloak of sleep to be torn away despite his exhaustion. He opened his eyes and frowned at the sunlight drifting through the branches above, wondering why he was not experiencing his customary morning haze. Then he remembered there had been no wine for him last night. That was why he was so tired. He had lain awake for hours on this damp, hard ground, battling his pain as he fought to enter the refuge of sleep.
    He needed to find some drink soon.
    The camp was empty except for young Rob, who was occupied with laying the morning meal. Malcolm watched as the boy carefully spread a cloth upon the ground, smoothed out the wrinkles, and adjusted the corners. He then neatly arranged a loaf of bread, a chunk of cheese, some dried herring, and a pitcher upon it, and placed some wooden cups around. The lad frowned at the result, cut the loaf, and rearranged it amongst the other food, intent on making the meal look pleasing. Then he produced a kerchief and wiped the inside of each cup. It was clear the MacKendricks were an unusually fastidious clan. Malcolm scowled with impatience. Their time would be better spent turning their young men into warriors.
    “Where are the others?” he demanded, rising.
    Rob looked up, startled.
    “This evening we will be reaching my home,” he said, shoving the kerchief into his saddlebag.