Warlord

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I was terrified.

I shifted my sweaty grip on the handle of my sword, and watched my attacker’s eyes. “Watch their eyes,” they’d told me. “The eyes will tell you their next move.”

I stared intently at him, but his eyes told me nothing. My left arm was trembling from the weight of my shield. “Look over the rim,” they’d told me. “Look over the rim, watch his eyes and react to hi—”

He came at me in an instant, rushing right for me. I managed to take his first blow on my shield and tried to stab at him with my blade, but my helmet shifted into my eyes and—

THWACK.

My arm went numb, and I cried out at the pain. My sword tumbled to the ground. Rafe stood in front of me, horrified, staring at my arm.

“That’s going to bruise,” Prest commented dryly.

Rafe groaned, looking up at the skies as if for help. “The Warlord will gut me where I stand.” He glared at me. “Warprize, you were supposed to block the blow!”

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