Free The Usurper by Rowena Cory Daniells Page A

Myrella.
    Later that afternoon, Byren was walking the camp when he heard Old Man Narrows' bellow. As the tradepost keeper had taken the maimed aside to begin training, Byren was curious. He left the track, following the sounds to the hollow where they trained, well apart from the others.
    Careful to present no silhouette against the sky, Byren stretched out on a rock scoured clean of snow and watched the clearing below where half a dozen youths watched Old Man Narrows. He held a wooden sword and faced Florin, who was half a head taller. She met his blows with a wooden sword of her own. While she had the advantage of youth, agility and reach, he had experience and formidable strength.
    'See, a left-handed man has an advantage against a right-handed warrior, who has only ever fought with a right-handed opponent.' Narrows grunted between blows. 'He won't be expecting attack from this quarter.'
    Florin obligingly left her guard down on that side and took a blow to the ribs. Byren could hear the impact of the flat of the sword from up here.
    'Now, who wants to have a go? Don't be rough on her, she's only a girl.'
    Florin grinned.
    One or two of the youths lifted their wooden swords.
    That was another thing. Their weaponry consisted of anything they could scrounge, from weapons used in the war thirty years ago, to farmyard implements. Byren didn't have enough swords to arm the warriors Orrade was training, let alone the maimed.
    'Come on,' Old Man Narrows urged. 'I'll tell her to go easy on yer.'
    They laughed.
    'It looks like I'm first,' the player said, stepping forwards. He moved lightly on the packed snow.
    Florin nodded and waited.
    His first blow was careful, testing his strength and speed, or perhaps testing hers.
    Byren frowned as he watched the player deliver his strikes. The man was a dancer. A trickster.
    As the player improved, the other maimed warriors straightened up and began calling encouragement. With a feint, the player distracted Florin, swung a leg behind her knee and tripped her.
    The maimed cheered as she went down.
    She sprang up, ready for more, but Old Man Narrows waved her back.
    'Now see that?' His deep voice carried easily to Byren. 'This battle will be nasty. Take every opportunity your enemy gives you. Trip him and run him through, if you can. He'll be underestimating you, because you're one-handed. Use that to your advantage.'
    They nodded, looking earnest and eager.
    'Right, who's next?' Not waiting for a response he chose the butcher and the scribe, setting one against Florin and one against himself.
    Byren slid off his perch and wended his way down to the hollow, coming up beside the player, who stood on the far side of the clearing.
    For a few heartbeats, they observed Old Man Narrows and Florin deflect clumsy if enthusiastic blows.
    'When are you going to tell them you're left-handed?' Byren asked the player softly.
    He grinned and winked. 'No need. Just as there was no need to tell the Merofynians.' He shrugged and nodded to the youths. 'Besides, they need to be inspired.'
    'You're not wrong there.'
    The others parted and Byren stepped in to offer a word or two of encouragement, before Old Man Narrows called up two more, leaving Vadik for last.
    Byren joined the boy, wishing his new-found Affinity could heal wounds other than his own. And he wasn't even sure if it could do that, as it seemed to be tied in with the ulfr pack. 'Show me that stump.'
    Vadik complied without hesitation. It was an affront to see a stump where a perfectly good hand had once been, but at least it wasn't enflamed.
    'A good clean wound,' Byren told him. 'No more slacking. Get to work.'
    Vadik grinned and Byren turned away to hide his pain.

Chapter Six

    Piro had endured several miserable days serving Isolt Kingsdaughter as her unwanted, ignored slave. She tried to make herself useful, but the kingsdaughter had a servant for everything.
    Every day more ships arrived from Rolencia laden with treasures stolen from her