Guardians of Magessa (The Birthright Chronicles Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

over at
Jothnial and extended a tendril of magic toward him. His vital signs were
strong, so the commander settled back for the journey to headquarters.

 

One
    Senndra used the shock from the blow to
spin in a tight circle on her heels. As she finished the move, she ducked under
the inevitable slash aimed at her upper torso. Jumping into a standing
position, she parried a blow aimed at her legs and returned a slash at her
opponent’s head. Her attacker struck her blade near the hilt, partially jarring
it from her grasp. She managed to hold onto the weapon, and her opponent lost
no time in pressing his advantage. He swung at Senndra’s head, and she wasn’t
able to get her sword up in time. Instead, she dove under the blade and rolled
past him. She rolled onto her knees and spun around, swinging her sword at her
opponent’s knees. He easily jumped over the poorly-aimed swipe and brought his
sword down at Senndra’s head. Senndra used her sword to deflect the blow then
brought the hilt around and slammed it into her aggressor’s stomach. He avoided
most of the force of the blow by leaning backwards; however, his breath was
still knocked out of him. Senndra jumped to her feet and aimed a quick slash at
him. Despite the fact that her opponent was on his back and that he hadn’t even
gotten his breath back, he was still able to block the blow and return one. The
counter attack caught Senndra off guard, and she barely stopped the blow from
smashing into her stomach. Her attacker’s blade bounced down her sword, hopped
over the hilt, and slashed across her hand. Senndra could tell that the injury
was only a flesh wound, but the pain was still enough to cloud her reaction. She looked down just in time to see her opponent
hook his sword into her pant leg and jerk. The motion threw Senndra off
balance. As she toppled, she lost her sword, and the next thing she knew, she
was on her face and could feel the cold steel of a sword on her neck.
    “Do you yield?” he asked.
    Senndra rolled her eyes. “As if I had a
choice. You beat me again.”
    She rose slowly to her feet and finally
raised her eyes to meet those of her opponent, Lemin, her sword fighting instructor.
He had elf blood though how much no one knew for certain and it could hardly be
discerned from his looks. He was about six feet tall, with short, cropped black
hair and the beginning of a beard and mustache. Senndra knew that it would be
gone before it got even a quarter of an inch long. As if its sole purpose was
to mar his otherwise good looks, a scar of five or six inches, normally white
but now red after the exertion of a sword fight, stood out on his left cheek. 
He held Senndra's sword out to her, and she took it and slid it into its
scabbard.
    “You’re dismissed to have that cut taken
care of,” Lemin told Senndra. “It doesn’t appear to be more than a flesh wound,
so don’t expect to get out of class tomorrow,” he added with a twinkle in his
eye. “I want you here bright and early so that I can beat you again.”
    “Not tomorrow, I’m afraid, sir,” Senndra
answered as she wrapped her hand in a cloth that Lemin handed to her.
    “What do you mean?” Lemin asked as he
glanced at Senndra quizzically. “Do you have something more important to do?”
    “No, sir,” Senndra answered. “Tomorrow I’m
going to beat you.” She waved to the rest of the class and turned to leave.
    “Whatever you say,” Lemin called after her
as she started down the trail that led to the medical station. “Just be here
tomorrow, and we’ll see who beats who. And remember that the swordplay
competition is tonight,” he added.
    Senndra grinned to herself as she broke
into a jog. She really did like Lemin, though he seemed to take delight in
beating his students every time he fought them in the ring. And he always did
beat them, usually in under a minute. As usual, Senndra had held her own for
more than three minutes, but had finally been bested by her