Page 15 of Witchcraft and Fury (Chronicles of the Divided Isle #1)

Solar glared at him, infuriated at the implied slight that she couldn’t handle herself as well as a boy, but then she saw Bear’s grin.

She punched him lightly on the shoulder.

‘Just a girl who’s twice as good as you with a sword!

That was some pretty impressive manipulation you did back there, with the flames.

I bet even Pingot or Oswald couldn’t pull off magic like that. ’

‘I know, right? It even took me by surprise. I suppose it was do or die, wasn’t it?’

They finally reached Loveday’s camp and stood on the edge of the glade, making sure the coast was clear. ‘Do you think they’ll track us here and attack?’ asked Bear.

‘I don’t think so. They know where we are; in fact, they’ve been following us ever since I left Falcontop, but Earl Archdale wouldn’t dare attack a royal magic encampment, and I reckon he and Grubber are terrified of Loveday.

They’ve been waiting for their chance to catch me alone. Tonight, I almost gave ’em it.’

‘Something tells me this won’t be the last time I find myself in a scrape because of you. You chose a tough life when you decided to become Ashwood’s only witch enrolled in formal training. But you knew that when you signed up, didn’t you?’

Solar didn’t reply, but a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

Bear noticed, and soon the two were clutching their sides with silent laughter.

They didn’t know quite why they laughed.

Perhaps it was the exhilaration of the night-time flight through the trees.

Maybe it was the thrill of the fights with Grubber and Hroth Archdale.

Or perhaps it was because, in that moment, they were no longer an aristocrat and a commoner, but rather the unlikeliest of friends.

‘Come on,’ said Bear, ‘let’s brew the potion before that swine Oswald wakes.’

*

‘So what you’re saying is, if someone tries to strike me, my reflexes will be so swift that I’m guaranteed to parry it?’ asked Pingot doubtfully.

‘Exactly,’ said Bear. ‘And if you allow yourself to relax, and trust those reflexes, we’re hoping you’ll be able to launch a fairly formidable offensive, too.

Just don’t crow too loudly about it, or the others will know something is up.

We don’t want them to suspect the drink you had at lunch was something other than elderflower cordial. ’

Across the campfire Cal, Oswald and Wyman were silently shovelling food into their mouths and eyeing their sparring opponents with suspicion.

‘How do I know this isn’t a trick of yours?’ asked Pingot.

‘Easy,’ said Solar, and she threw a powerful punch at Pingot’s nose. He rolled off his seat with uncanny speed, and Solar’s fist flew through thin air, right where Pingot’s face had been a shadow of a moment before.

‘Umm, is that meant to happen?’ Solar asked Bear doubtfully, looking down at where Pingot now lay face down in the mud. ‘I know he evaded my punch but … well, look at him! He’s still a bit ungainly.’

But Pingot got to his feet, a look of triumph on his face.

‘Ungainly?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘That was amazing!’ He saw Bear jerk his head warningly towards their classmates, and so he continued in an excited whisper, ‘I didn’t even have to think!

My body just rolled out of the way of its own accord! ’

‘And splat into the mud. I think you’re still going to have to put effort into being light on your feet,’ said Bear wryly, then he lowered his voice so that only Solar and Pingot could hear. ‘Don’t let Dusk’s Delight do all the work for you, because I don’t think it will.’

Before they had time to discuss the potion and its effects any further, Binns’ voice cut through their conversation.

‘Lunch is over, ladies. Get up off your lazy backsides and pick up your swords. It’s sparring time.

’ The master-at-arms looked at Pingot, his face purple and swollen from the week’s previous bouts.

‘That means you as well,’ he said in a low, menacing growl.

‘I’ll make a man of you yet, even if it means your classmates beating your face into a blackberry first.’

Wyman gave an appreciative chuckle and cracked his knuckles.

Soon the six of them were facing each other across the sparring ground. Oswald was licking his lips in anticipation, his eyes fixed on Pingot. Cal was sizing Solar up, clearly trying to assess whether the gruelling week had taken a toll on her stamina.

‘Not looking your best today, hag,’ he goaded in an undertone that just carried to where she stood. ‘Have you been losing sleep since our little duels began?’

‘Shut up, Cal. Let your sword do the talking,’ replied Solar.

She raised her weapon and bent her knees into a fighter’s stance.

She felt what was now a familiar tingle at the thought of duelling Cal begin in her stomach and radiate through her entire body, and the simple thrill of those arrogant eyes locking with hers mixed with the desire to see him get the punishment he deserved at the hands of Pingot.

‘Now remember,’ growled Binns. ‘Stay light on your feet. Look after those at your side…’

‘You’d better put on a good show, Pingot,’ Solar muttered out of the corner of her mouth. ‘I could’ve bought myself a castle with those dusk bush leaves.’ She had felt a momentary twinge of regret when Pingot gulped down her valuable potion.

‘… stay in formation and fight smart,’ continued Binns. ‘Hotheads are always the first to fall on the battlefield. Begin!’

Oswald dashed forwards in a few long strides.

Pingot stood alert before him, knees slightly bent, sword raised.

Oswald’s sword came at his midriff in a wide sweep, his unshakeable confidence lending speed and momentum to the attack.

Solar heard Pingot swear loudly in alarm, but he wore an unwavering look of concentration.

With just a moment to spare before the sword landed, Pingot sidestepped with uncharacteristic speed.

And then he tripped. The sword slashed through thin air and Oswald found himself losing his balance, carried by his weapon’s unchecked momentum. Pingot sent him sprawling with a well-aimed kick from where he lay on the ground.

‘How do you like that, you crud?’ shouted Pingot, leaping to his feet, but any further gloats were cut short as he raised his sword to parry a blow Wyman had directed at his neck.

Wyman was so stunned that he just stood there, looking at the locked blades.

Pingot disengaged and stepped neatly to one side, striking his assailant’s midriff as he did so.

Wyman threw down his sword in disbelief and stormed off to the side.

Solar, Bear and Pingot closed in on Cal, their last opponent standing.

Pingot, drunk with success, aimed a cut at Cal’s sword arm but it was parried with ease.

Then Bear thrust at Cal’s chest. The older boy swatted the blade away and threw Bear back with a kick to the stomach.

Cal then returned his attention to Pingot, bringing his sword down in a two-handed strike and with a mighty roar.

Pingot sidestepped. Cal’s sword slashed through thin air and into the dirt, and Solar stepped swiftly in and placed the tip of her sword at his throat.

‘Yield?’ she asked in a whisper.

Cal looked at her in disgust, unable to believe what had happened. ‘Again,’ he said.

‘I can’t fight with these cheap wooden swords,’ protested Wyman. ‘If we were duelling with real steel you wouldn’t fare so well, Pingot. ’

‘My father would say that a poor workman blames his tools,’ shot back Solar.

‘Oh, please let’s not start quoting craftsmen, such renowned fountains of wisdom,’ drawled Oswald sarcastically.

‘He’s wiser than you idiots, believe me,’ Solar retorted.

‘Enough!’ shouted Binns. ‘Take up your positions.’

Oswald and Wyman returned to Cal’s side and raised their swords again. Solar and Bear clapped Pingot on the back before taking up their stances, exchanging gleeful smirks.

‘It’s working!’ Bear whispered triumphantly.

‘I know, now shut up and fight!’ Solar hissed back.

‘Begin!’ came the order from Binns.

Pingot parried Cal’s first strike in good time. The subsequent exchange of blows was dealt with in a less controlled manner, but Cal was soon on the defensive and Pingot managed to step inside his guard and land a winning blow.

Oswald and Wyman came next. Oswald’s blade missed its mark by millimetres, and Pingot stepped elegantly behind him to strike his unguarded back.

Wyman hacked at thin air as Pingot ducked, clearly trusting his reflexes more and more. Solar and Bear were left with clear strikes at their distracted adversary.

‘Begin!’ called Binns.

Pingot parried Oswald and sent Wyman sprawling, and Cal tripped trying to land a blow.

‘Begin!’

Pingot struck Wyman’s chest, swiftly manoeuvred round Cal’s blade to hit his side and deftly disarmed Oswald. Solar and Bear had little to do but flank Pingot defensively, ensuring that he had no more than one opponent to deal with at once.

‘Begin!’

After ten bouts Cal, Oswald and Wyman were breathing heavily, sweating, their flesh raw where they had suffered blows.

Binns yelled curses and worse at them, trying anything to spur them into their usual form, but it was to no avail.

Pingot, with Solar and Bear supporting him, was simply untouchable.

Bear howled with laughter when Wyman aimed a blow at Pingot’s head, missed, and fell into a pile of mule dung at the side of the duelling ground.

At last Binns bellowed, ‘Final bout! Cal, Oswald and Wyman, you’ve disgraced yourselves, allowing a bloody witch and graceless weakling to get the better of you. Now is your final chance to redeem yourselves. Begin!’