“And you’re the opposite. Small, light…” The hard light in his eyes began to fade at that, doubt creeping in. “Same with me. Being a woman, I’ve always been smaller, lighter than pretty much everyone I crossed swords with. They act the way he does, to a man.” We both looked at the other boy who was chatting with some of his closest cronies. “I put more than my fair share on their arse.”

“Yeah?” There was a curious combination of challenge and hope in Owen’s voice.

“Yeah.” I smiled down at him. “You’ve got to use the thing they prize against them. Their strength, their greater reach, their weight. You can move faster, get under his guard and strike him down before he even raises his arm.”

That had his attention. The two of us hunkered down then as I drew some instructions in the sand beneath our feet. Owen nodded along, even when I said it might not work at first, but it would once he built his skills. Then we stood up and he went to face the bigger boy.

“Ready for another beating?” he sneered, lifting his practise sword.

“Be aware of what your opponent is doing,” I’d told Owen, “but don’t be directed by it. If he sets the terms of the fight, you lose.”

Owen squared his shoulders, then fell into a loose fighter’s stance, something someone else had obviously taught him.

“He’s overconfident and relies on his reach and power to just bludgeon through his opponents. Don’t let him. He’s beaten you enough times to know how he’ll attack, right?” The boy nodded. “Well, anticipate and answer that. Be where he expects you to be.”

Owen raised his sword and the other boy grinned as he did the same.

“Then slide sideways before he can strike. He’s slow.” Owen had snorted at that. “He is. You’re faster. Slip to one side—”

“I don’t back down from a fight,” he’d asserted.

“We can all see that. Now we need to see you win one. Slide to one side.” I drew a line in the sand. “And while he’s over-committed, directing all that power at an opponent that isn’t there anymore, you strike. Stab upwards and into his ribs here.”

I observed Owen process what I was saying, almost able to hear the cogs of his mind whirring as he did, but then he looked up at me, eyes wide, then nodded.

“C’mon, boy…” I hissed to myself as I watched the two of them face each other down, my mates joining me.

“Why do I feel like we should be putting a wager on the small fella?” Weyland asked with a grin, but I ignored him.

After some skiting that so many bullies seemed to need to indulge in, the big lad attacked and Owen, gods bless the little bugger, did exactly as I’d said. Not fast enough though, he caught a glancing blow on his shoulder, but he didn’t let that stop him. He spun around, stabbing his wooden sword into the bigger boy’s ribs with a vehemence beyond what I’d instructed, but I guess he was determined to press his advantage. As I had expected, Owen’s opponent dropped to the sands with a great groan, as if he’d been stabbed with a bladed weapon, not a practice one.

“Well done,” Rath said with a smile. “Perhaps I should have the Lady Darcy down working with the boys. We try to teach them how to fight based on their abilities, but…” He turned to me, his eyes twinkling. “Perhaps the lesson is more palatable from a much prettier face than mine or my men’s. Now, there’s someone else I think you’d like to see.”

“Del!” I choked back my cry as I saw the boy in the midst of his training, but it was hard to swallow my distress. He was just a little stripling of a thing, his limbs too long and skinny, more colt than boy, so seeing him toting a wooden weapon and shield was a gods-awful shock. I took a step forward, ready to march over there and strip him of them, to herd him back to Lannie and Jan. A hand landed on my shoulder and when I glared up, Axe shook his head.

“Don’t take this from the boy,” he said, then eyed the boys at work, practising their strikes, shooting arrow after arrow into targets. “Going through what he did, this would be a blessing.”

“Makes him feel strong, proficient,” Weyland agreed, nodding his head. “Makes him feel like he has a chance to protect his family after…”

His words failed him and so did mine, dying in my throat as I turned back to watch the boy train.

My reaction wasn’t a rational one. Nordred had done much the same for me at a younger age. Oddly, my family’s privileged position made it easier for a girl to learn to be a warrior. We had enough money to afford the spare time to spend training with weapons, something Del’s family was unlikely to have. But whatever was lacking in his training before this, he seemed a capable student. He moved like the wind, performing the almost ritualised exercises a young person was forced to memorise before they could start actually fighting.

“He’s very promising,” Rath said, drawing closer. “His tutors have been very complimentary. Let’s see Del in action, shall we?”

He clapped his hands and the adults who were working with the boys looked up, then nodded. They directed the boys and, as one they formed a circle, their shields forming a wall. Men spoke to Del and another boy and the shields parted to let them in. As soon as they stood in the space between, the other boys started to bang on their shields with their wooden swords like the savage wargen my people spoke of. My head whipped around and my mates smiled at the way my eyebrows jerked up.

“Young Del’s about to get seasoned like a side of beef,” Axe said with a chuckle, and that sound did nothing to settle me.

“C’mon, Del!” Weyland shouted. “Put him in the ground!”

Put him in the ground? Both boys were ten, maybe eleven at best. Why the hell would they be putting anyone in the ground? They weren’t even grown yet. At least young Owen had some of the muscle he would sport as an adult on his spare frame. But these boys? All I could see was the baby softness of their skin, their cheeks, even as their jaws firmed and they raised their swords.

You must’ve looked the same, I thought fiercely as I watched them shuffle around the other, shields kept up with an almost religious fervour. That was never going to work. They didn’t want to get hit, that’s why they were clutching the handles so tightly. You did the same, I reminded myself. So I saw all of my own zeal in their faces, teeth bared, mouths pulled into grimaces as each boy eyed the other.

The beating of the swords on shields seemed to pick up in pace, or was that just my heart? But it didn’t relent, not when Del ineffectually stabbed at his opponent over the top of his shield. He couldn’t hide behind the fucking thing, something Nordred had told me over and over until he refused to let me use one on the training grounds.

“C’mon, lad!” Axe shouted. “Stop hiding and smack the bastard.”