“What’s your plan?”
“Oh, just a friendly competition.”
“Ha. Friendly. You, with the Fae?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“Doubt it.”
Solveig led them along the street, away from the fighting ring.
“Where are you going?” Gerrie asked.
“If they’re going to try to take my title, might as well do it in a public space.”
She led them towards the centre of the camp, near the training ring where most of her people congregated after they finished supper.
Silence fell as she walked through the crowd. Those who hadn’t seen her yet today took in her black leathers and the warpaint on her face. They bowed as she passed. She hated being bowed to.
When she reached the centre of the camp, she pivoted to face the Fae who had followed.
There was silence.
Clouds swirled above their heads, the wind picking up. Solveig took a deep breath in, counting to three as the Fae spread out around her. She let the feel of the wind caress her flaming skin. Her magic stilled in her veins.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked. They unsheathed their swords and Solveig followed suit. But none of the Fae made the first move.
She sighed. “Are you waiting for me to attack you?”
“Well ... yes. We’re here only as protection. We were ordered not to initiate a fight,” the male she’d been speaking to in the dining hall said.
Warning bells went off in Solveig’s mind. Would it be a mistake to take the first swing? She was just about to sheath her sword, pride be damned, when she changed her mind. She walked over and poked Conalle with the point of her sword, causing the lord to yelp in surprise.
“Oops,” she said, managing to keep a straight face. “It looks like your lord has been attacked. What are you going to do about it?” she taunted.
They looked at each other and all at once, they attacked. Six Fae came charging towards her from all sides. Her sword was ready in one hand, the other armed with the stolen hammer.
Sliding through the legs of the first male who came close, she popped up behind him and shoved him into two others barrelling towards her from the other direction. Her sword met the swing of another’s and she threw her hammer at the approaching Fae on her left. It knocked him to the ground before he could dodge it. These Fae were strong and fast, but Solveig was Asgard’s general for a reason.
She may have been Vanir, but her strength and speed were unmatched, even amongst most Fae.
They twirled and twisted in a violent dance of swords and daggers. Solveig retrieved the hammer from where it had fallen, liking the weight of it in her hand. It came in handy when she needed the extra force.
She had to give it to these soldiers—they were holding their own. Solveig was starting to tire, so she had to end this as quickly as possible. She could not show an ounce of weakness.
Conalle watched with pride, most likely because they were lasting so long.
Picking up the hammer, she threw it again, knocking one of the soldiers to the ground. He didn’t get back up right away. Solveig looked to Gerrie, who immediately tossed a spear into her still outstretched hand.
Wielding the spear and the sword made her arms burn, but she pushed through. She swung her sword and disarmed another Fae. Holding the spear horizontal, she used both ends to knock the wind out of two more.
Four down, two to go.
They came at her head-on and she dropped the spear, hitting one in the face with the butt of her sword and parrying with the last Fae standing. He was a good swordsman, matching her blows—her arms ached with the effort.
Magic rushed through her veins and for a moment she flashed back to the cave, to a hallucination she’d had of Fear fighting her like this. In the hallucination, she’d frozen in her panic. She’d been unable to move to protect herself, chained as she was to the ground, as he approached her, sword raised for a killing blow.
The vision cleared as quickly as it had come, but the fear and terror were fires in her veins as her magic seared through her.
