Dragon's Child Read Online Free PDF Page A

down into his rough tunic. ‘If she hadn’t slipped in a puddle of my blood, I’d have been worm food before I was twenty. I was very good, you see, and I underestimated her agility. It was many months before my wounds had healed.’
    ‘So what happened to the Scythian woman?’ the boy asked warily. He was making a vain attempt to imagine a female with warrior skills superior to those of Targo.
    ‘I slit her belly open as she was falling down. Damn, but she was one fine woman,’ Targo reminisced.
    Artorex saw the old man smile fondly for just the briefest of moments.
    ‘What was her edge?’ Artorex asked.
    ‘A good question, boy.’
    ‘Ow!’ Artorex yelped, as Targo cuffed him once again. ‘What was that for?’
    ‘A little pain now might make you think of my mistake at some future time when you believe you have an enemy at your mercy. I underestimated her. You mightn’t get the second chance that I received.’ As he spoke, Targo scanned the farmyard until his eyes stopped at a rough fence, some five feet high, around the field where the horses exercised.
    ‘A test for you. Your life depends on it! I want you over that fence, as fast as you can. Now!’
    The boy saw the fence was just a little too high for him to leap, and climbing was certain to make him look foolish.
    ‘It’s too late! You’re dead! The enemy has taken you!’
    Targo tripped the boy neatly and Artorex felt his bones rattle as he hit the packed sod.
    ‘But to climb that fence I’d have to use my sword hand. I’d be dead anyway!’
    ‘Your prime task is to get over the fence in one piece.’ Targo whistled between the gaps in his old teeth as he walked away. ‘And don’t you ever drop your sword again. If you do, I’ll give you three lashes.’
    ‘Oh, shite!’ the boy swore under his breath.
    Of a sudden, a simple post and rail fence seemed more impregnable than the walls of the villa.
    Artorex thought feverishly.
    He approached the fence from several angles and noticed that the rails were sturdy enough as a barrier for horses but could easily collapse under the weight of his growing body. The horses saw the fence as a solid structure, so the rails were allowed to weather and split.
    ‘Hurry up, boy. The sun is moving - and I’m tired. I don’t want to find new shade.’ Targo was sprawled comfortably under the cool cover of a young alder tree.
    The posts are the key, Artorex though desperately. But how do I use them?
    The answer came to him suddenly, so he decided to charge at the fence post before he lost his nerve.
    Artorex’s left hand hit the top of the post with a satisfying thud, and he was thrust upwards. Unfortunately, his feet did not rise quite as high as he imagined, and he clipped the rail with his foot, causing him to tumble in a wild cartwheel to the other side of the fence. He landed squarely on his backside with enough force to jar the teeth in his head.
    His developing instincts ensured that he kept his sword firmly gripped in his right hand.
    Targo laughed and leapt to his feet with far more speed than his youthful pupil was displaying.
    ‘Boy, once again you’re dead, but you now have an idea that you can work on. I want you to practise its execution until you perfect it. Forget haymaking for this afternoon - and get this task right. Consider today a holiday.’
    Artorex grew to loathe that fence before the evening meal. He realized that, unless he could raise his whole body parallel to the rail, he would continue to land on his backside or, as the day continued, on any other part of his body that he treasured.
    Targo wandered off in an unusually good humour, leaving him to charge at the fence until his left arm felt as if it would never bend again.
    Darkness had almost fallen when Artorex finally arrived at the solution.
    He realized that he would have to change sword hands to successfully complete the jump. If he moved the sword to his left hand during his run, he could use his stronger right arm in the