Page 23 of A Dagger in the Ivy

“What might that be?”

“Have one of your friends hold the target above their head.”

“All right.” Torbin points at one of the group members. “Sam, you look strong enough to hold a haybale.”

Sam’s smile disappears. He rubs the back of his neck, his dirty-blond hair flopping as he walks over to the target. “Of course, Your Highness.”

The others in the group regard each other. I can’t tell if they are intrigued or frightened by this new development. I’m also not sure how I feel about it myself. I suppose it isn’t too different from the one-upmanship I’ve witnessed between Mylo and Isaac.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Dante says as he nears his brother. “Noarrows. We use our swords.”

He can’t be serious. Swords? I could easily hit the target from here with my dagger, but hurling long blades through the air so close to a man’s head? It seems extreme.

Torbin’s eyes widen for a moment, and then his smile expands. “I like the way you think, Brother.” He unsheathes the blade at his side. When he raises it into the air, I see that it’s no ordinary sword. A shining, silver sabre gleams in the sunlight. I can’t see much detail from where I stand, but from what I can observe, the craftsmanship is exquisite. “Sam, lift the bale above your head.”

“Happy to, Your Highness.” Sam doesn’t look happy. He hauls the bale to chest level and then grunts as he raises it above his head. At first, it seems like it’s not a difficult task, but the longer he holds the bale, the more his arms begin to shake.

“Would you like to go first?” Torbin asks Dante.

“After you.” Dante extends an arm and backs out of Torbin’s way.

My skin feels prickly, and I can’t tear my eyes away.

Torbin studies the target, positioning his feet. “Sam, keep still.”

Sam, who appears to be sweating now, does not answer.

Torbin raises his sword and points it at the target. He stretches his arm up and out a few times, measuring the weight of his weapon as he aims it.

I can barely breathe. I’m also very impressed with Sam’s loyalty.

When Torbin throws the sabre, it whips through the air at high speed. Sam wobbles back as step as the blade strikes. I release my breath, relieved that the sabre has impaled the target and not his friend. It looks like it hit six inches from the center, which is pretty remarkable.

Torbin grins and faces his brother, as if waiting for his congratulations.

“Not bad.” Dante moves into position, elbowing Torbin out of the way.

Dante takes no time at all to throw his falchion. Sam lets out a yelp as he tumbles backward and lands on his backside. It happens so fast, I have to blink. I hold my breath until I see the fallenman move his legs. Torbin rushes over to Sam, but instead of checking on the wellbeing of his friend, he inspects the bullseye.

“Shit.” Torbin rubs his chin.

Not only was Dante swift, but the falchion hit dead center.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Dante saunters over to the target and pulls out his sword.

“So smug.” Torbin releases a huff of a laugh. “You’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Dante sheathes his falchion. “No, I’mrevelingin it.”

Torbin extends a hand to Sam to help him up. Once his friend is on his feet, Torbin slaps him on the back.

“You should come hunting with me, Brother,” Torbin calls.

“I’d rather not.” Dante picks up his whetstone and leather. “What’s the old saying? A lion waits for his prey to come to him, like a patient predator.”

“Let’s have another go. Best two out of three.”

Dante walks off toward the castle, not bothering to turn around. “I don’t think you really want to embarrass yourself further, or are you a glutton for punishment?”

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