Hi Everyone, I am excited to share that LEGACY is live in e book on Amazon! Here is a teaser...enjoy! Prologue
A still, grey mist hung over the forest canopy, a lingering shroud of moisture from the deluge of the previous night. In the quiet of pre-dawn, the only sounds were the dripping leaves and a low chirruping of frogs hiding in the undergrowth. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the clash of steel on steel. The sharp sound echoed through the woodland valley, scaring up wood-pigeons from their roosts and sending forest creatures scurrying for cover. In a small clearing, two combatants circled each other with menacing intent, each assessing the other's next move. The taller one lunged; the other danced away, returning swiftly with an underhand strike. In a masterful counter-move, the smaller warrior rolled and another long sequence began. Similarly matched in skill and speed, they lunged and parried, swords clashing time and again, neither giving quarter. Sparks flew as sword struck sword in a relentless onslaught from both sides. With practised grace and agility, they ducked and lunged, each predicting the other's next move. Seconds became minutes; minutes became an hour but neither gained the advantage. Both adversaries used acrobatic rolls as easily as steps. The taller one advanced. The other retreated, feinting left with a backhand slash. The first counter-cut, withdrew and his thrust was avoided, as the smaller opponent rolled sideways, coming up to a perfect envelopment. They locked blades. Steel rang as they pushed-off to disengage, only to circle and attack again. Pushing past exhaustion, the opponents wielded their weapons with deadly skill, grunting and panting with the effort. At first, Ardientor dealt every blow with confident swagger, his movement calculated, fast. This assurance was slowly eroded by his adversary's skill. Each strike became more desperate. He advanced on his enemy, forcing the fight into the woodland, hoping to gain an advantage there. His overhand arc was deflected and his blade hit a tree trunk. Wood-chips flew and he swore loudly, recovering, but only just in time to meet the other's blade as it almost slashed his exposed side. Suddenly, his adversary feinted right and somersaulted sideways with uncanny speed, whacking Ardientor behind the knees with the flat of the blade. He toppled forward and slammed face-first in the wet leaves. In a heartbeat, the assailant leapt on his back with the blade at his throat. Breathing heavily, the victor demanded, “Do you yield?” Ardi gasped, desperate for air. He was trapped and disarmed. The sharp edge of the sword was a hair's breadth from cutting his throat. Mud and rotten leaves plastered his face. The weight on his upper torso held him prisoner. Livid, he rasped, “No! I will not yield!” He eyed the hilt of his sword. It was almost within reach. He dragged up his remaining strength to buck against his captor and almost dislodged the lighter warrior from his back, but the flat of the enemy blade pressed on his jugular; a quick twist of his captor's wrist would end him. He stilled, gasping with fury. He was not quite prepared to die. With a sigh of disgust, he spat the words, “I . . . yield!” It was over, and admission of defeat was a bitter taste in his mouth. He glared over his shoulder at the face of his captor, his bright emerald stare sparking with hostility. “But, you cheated . . . and you know it!” Over him, strange rainbow-coloured eyes, still glowing with excitement and the heady power of victory, returned his gaze and held it fearlessly. “No! I did not, and you know it, Ardi! And, do not try to lie to Papa, because he will see it straight away!” Espira relaxed her grip slightly. The victory was honestly hers. Still catching her breath, she removed the blade from her brother's throat, and rolled off him. As he sat up, he grinned, but his eyes still held a hint of rebellion. “So, don't even try!” She pressed the warning, with a serious look that held the undeniable truth of their father's perceptive power. Now in their early teens, the siblings had both made that mistake more than once during their childhood. Luminor gave them equal attention throughout their training, but Espira excelled. Highly skilled in all the Powers, their father was the most suitable teacher for these gifted two youngsters, a hard taskmaster, but fair. Deception was severely frowned upon. Mischief was suitably punished. Espira's eyes softened, as she regarded her younger brother. “Be careful, Ardi. Anger clouds judgement.” She reached to remove a couple of leaves still stuck to his muddy face. He swiped her hand away, glaring back as he recalled the countless times Espira's skills outstripped his. In every one of the arts, he rarely had the upper hand, even now that he had recently become a little taller and broader of shoulder—almost a man! It did not help Ardientor's present mood, to be aware that he could only read her emotion when she let him. At the moment, there it was, her air of superiority, pointing out the obvious. He sighed again. “You know, Espira, I sometimes think . . .” There was a weighty pause, his eyes became cold, his emotion shuttered. “I hate you!” He frowned for emphasis. Then he punched her arm and grinned; a playful twinkle in his eyes belied the words, even as he reinforced his mental shield against her. A vague sense of foreboding tickled Espira's awareness. Not for the first time, she felt anxious about her brother's temper. It flared too often like an unruly flame, volatile, dangerous. That he put very little effort into curbing it frightened her sometimes. She pushed the doubt aside. Perhaps he just needed more time. She shook her head in mock reproach. Ardi was incorrigible. A slow smile lightened her expression, as she sensed what would happen next. For a split-second, she thought about refusing to fight again today. As the victor, it was her choice, but something desperate in his eyes demanded another chance. The two rolled to their feet simultaneously. Ardientor retrieved his sword on the way. In less than a heartbeat, they faced each other once again, eager for another bout of swordplay. Ardientor wasn't finished. He never was, no matter how many times Espira bested him. She was a force to be reckoned with. Daily, her skill in all the arts improved and somehow he knew it always would. Nevertheless, one day – perhaps this very day – he would turn the tables! “Again!” he challenged and lunged, with a murderous gleam in his eyes. And Espira countered him with mind and sword, not quite sure why it was so important.
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AuthorAuthor of the The Fire Chronicles Series, Susi pens her fantasy worlds for others to explore. Archives
December 2021
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