This week's except is from the second novel in the Highland Gardens time travel series. Just Once in a Verra Blue Moon. Finn has a sword fight...
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Alexander leapt from the stoop and
swirled around into a fighting stance, his claymore extended, pointing toward
Finn’s eyes. Their gazes locked. Held. Tension escalated.
Finn ran through his mind the hand and foot positions he’d practiced. Mastered. Move by move.
His right hand under the cross guard, his left just above the pommel, he stepped forward with his lead foot into the on-guard position, holding the cross guard at head level and the blade pointing diagonally upward. As they circled, he dropped the blade to a forward position to ward Alexander’s first cut with the flat of his blade. The impacting vibration sizzled over Finn’s bulging arm muscles, and he twisted his wrists to counterstrike.
The crowd surged as Finn and Alexander fought around small obstacles and avoided a loaded cart.
The dance flowed. Finn’s feet slid over the stone paving in patterned moves. He leapt, swinging his hips, giving power to each strike. The cling and clang of steel against steel reverberated in the small courtyard with chops and cuts and wards. Rolling from one blow to another, the zone possessed Finn, thrilled him, until his arms and legs grew weak.
Too late, he realized Alexander’s tactic. The man held back, pretending ineptitude, allowing Finn to tire, and then swooped in on the offensive. An excessively aggressive cut whistled along the edge of Finn’s sword. He lost his balance and stumbled.
The next cut came from the side. Finn rolled his hips back to avoid getting sliced across the belly. A near miss. He barely warded the next blow.
The crowd roared.
Finn would die. Damn. He hadn’t meant for things to end this way.
Alexander’s next chop arced from above. Finn bounded out of the way, laboring to breathe. The force of the downward momentum imbedded the blade into the wooden frame of a water trough. Alexander struggled to free the sword, his chest heaving, giving Finn time to gulp air, catch his breath.
A flash of light on metal distracted him and he reluctantly flicked his gaze away from his opponent, fearing someone else joined the fray. What the hell? Caitrina stood to the side, at the front of gaping warriors, holding Finn’s claymore, its embedded moonstone glowing. She grinned and tossed the sword.
The blade spiraled in slow motion, end over end, through the air.
He jerked his gaze back to Alexander. The man stared at the whirling sword with lust.
Finn read the man’s intent, dropped the borrowed sword he held and lunged for his claymore. Before either he or Alexander grabbed hold, a most beautiful blond woman appeared out of thin air and snatched the spinning sword out of their reach.
She glared at Caitrina. “The mortals must finish without magic.”
Finn ran through his mind the hand and foot positions he’d practiced. Mastered. Move by move.
His right hand under the cross guard, his left just above the pommel, he stepped forward with his lead foot into the on-guard position, holding the cross guard at head level and the blade pointing diagonally upward. As they circled, he dropped the blade to a forward position to ward Alexander’s first cut with the flat of his blade. The impacting vibration sizzled over Finn’s bulging arm muscles, and he twisted his wrists to counterstrike.
The crowd surged as Finn and Alexander fought around small obstacles and avoided a loaded cart.
The dance flowed. Finn’s feet slid over the stone paving in patterned moves. He leapt, swinging his hips, giving power to each strike. The cling and clang of steel against steel reverberated in the small courtyard with chops and cuts and wards. Rolling from one blow to another, the zone possessed Finn, thrilled him, until his arms and legs grew weak.
Too late, he realized Alexander’s tactic. The man held back, pretending ineptitude, allowing Finn to tire, and then swooped in on the offensive. An excessively aggressive cut whistled along the edge of Finn’s sword. He lost his balance and stumbled.
The next cut came from the side. Finn rolled his hips back to avoid getting sliced across the belly. A near miss. He barely warded the next blow.
The crowd roared.
Finn would die. Damn. He hadn’t meant for things to end this way.
Alexander’s next chop arced from above. Finn bounded out of the way, laboring to breathe. The force of the downward momentum imbedded the blade into the wooden frame of a water trough. Alexander struggled to free the sword, his chest heaving, giving Finn time to gulp air, catch his breath.
A flash of light on metal distracted him and he reluctantly flicked his gaze away from his opponent, fearing someone else joined the fray. What the hell? Caitrina stood to the side, at the front of gaping warriors, holding Finn’s claymore, its embedded moonstone glowing. She grinned and tossed the sword.
The blade spiraled in slow motion, end over end, through the air.
He jerked his gaze back to Alexander. The man stared at the whirling sword with lust.
Finn read the man’s intent, dropped the borrowed sword he held and lunged for his claymore. Before either he or Alexander grabbed hold, a most beautiful blond woman appeared out of thin air and snatched the spinning sword out of their reach.
She glared at Caitrina. “The mortals must finish without magic.”
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Just Once in a Verra Blue Moon
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Hope you enjoyed this wee snippet from Just Once in a Verra Blue Moon, a Highland Gardens Novel.
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