The God Warriors by Sean Liebling Read Free Book Online Page A

whistle overhead before slashing him in the thigh, then rolling backward out of range, not wanting him to take advantage of her position. Elsa smiled at Gunnor, then winked. He in turn scowled at her and proceeded cautiously forward, using an upright guard position. As he neared, he quickly feinted a blow to her head before spearing his sword forward, trying to take her in the stomach.
    Watching his eyes, she knew exactly where his primary strike was aimed and did not fall for the feint. If they had been using real swords, it would have been a killing blow. Even with practice swords, it would still probably have broken ribs. Rotating her upper arms and shoulders while sidestepping in a lightning-quick move, she rapped his knuckles hard enough to cause him to drop the sword. Without slowing down, her body twisted one-hundred and eighty degrees, presenting her other side, her blade rushing through the air like a club to hit his head with a resounding thunk of wood against metal. Instantly, Gunnor dropped to the ground, dazed and bleeding from a head wound beneath the helm.
    The crowd stared in shocked silence as she relaxed her ready state to salute the commander with her sword, pommel down, blade to forehead and watched as he nodded back while her father grinned like a maniac beside him as he spoke.
    "I told you I trained her since she was five. She can beat me most times, unless I pull every dirty trick in the book and then some."
    She saw the commander nod and others of the guard moving forward to help Gunnor, but she was closest. Striding forward, she grabbed him under the left armpit with her free hand and helped him to his feet, while he simply stared at her. This time, his eyes locked on hers. Elsa winked again before walking over to her father, handing the sword to the Sub-Captain, who took it, looked at it, then at her, and asked:"That was an unusual guard position you used with the short sword. I assume it's something your father taught you?"
    "No, Sir. Well, yes, Sir, but mostly I developed it on my own. With no bracer or shield the two handed grip allowed me more leverage and a faster response." The commander and the other officers nodded in understanding.
    The rest of the morning passed as almost anticlimactically when Elsa was taken around the back of the barracks to the practice field for more testing. Presented with a bow, she proceeded to put three in the bull's eye out of five. With a spear, she was able to place all three in the center at the same distance. Apologizing for her lack of accuracy with the bow, she blamed it on the different heft and pull than the one she was used to, a remark the commander simply waved off as inconsequential as he approached her.
    "Congratulations. You're in! Any questions?"
    With a squeal of delight, she turned to her father, jumping at him and hugging him tightly. He hugged her back just as powerfully, laughing. After kissing him on the cheek, she turned back to the commander and asked.
    "Only one question, Sir. Why does everyone call my Da, Mad Dog?"
    They never did answer the question that day, but she found out later it was because of her father's penchant to jump into the middle of a group of enemies and attack them mercilessly, often leaving his own men behind.

Chapter 3
     

~Onias~
    Falling into a crouch, Onias swung his two-handed sword in a silver arc, neatly cutting through the legs of the two barbarians facing him, just above the kneecaps. Their screams of pain were music to his ears. He stepped on the thrashing neck of one, lunging forward to take a third in the stomach, splitting the man’s boiled leather armor. Then, yanking his sword from the falling body, he blocked a strike with his shield before beheading the next to face him.
    His and the other two companies were carrying the day, though Onias knew all three had suffered heavy casualties. Moments before, he heard the horns of more companies coming to assist them and knew they only had to hold out a short