Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

managed, his young voice surprisingly low and rasping.
      “Den you cho ose to fi ght?” Kwaku challenged, his face inches from Padric’s.
      “I… I…” Padric swallowed and quickly glanced to Dallan who stood breathing hard. His face and hair were covered with dust, his right shoulder badly bruised and bleeding. His body, Sark and kilt covered with sweat and even more dust. John watched intently as Dallan smiled at Padric with his eyes. Hmm…
    Padric looked back to Kwaku, blew his blonde hair out of his face and pressed his lips fi rmly together, his lower jaw jutting out slightly. “I’m not afraid of you!”
    Kwaku raised a wide brow at the boy and snorted. “You choose to fi ght den, eh little bro-dar?”
    Padric jumped to his feet and assumed a warrior’s crouch, the same John had seen Dallan perform the past few days. Of course, Dallan did not usuall y begin hopping about like a fl ea as Padric was now doing. “I’m not afraid of you, you big bully! Go ahead! Give it your best shot!”
    “ Ohhh ,” Lany began with a smile. “This is gonna hurt somebody.”
      John nodded, his eyes intent on the scene unfolding before them.  “I believe you’re right.”
    Padric quickly glanced at Dallan who silently mouthed a single word to him. Now.         
    Padric off ered a barely perceptible nod and continued to hop about in front of the Time Master who followed the boy’s movements with amusement.
    “Den a fi ght is what you shall have my little bro-dar!” Kwaku took a step back and raised the quarterstaff over his head.
    With the most blood curdling scream anyone in the arena, or the woodbins for that matter, had ever heard, Dallan charged. With his own quarterstaff rocketing straight for Kwaku’s head he suddenly yelled through his warrior’s cry, “Now laddie!”
    Padric promptly dropped onto the seat of his pants as the Weapons Master changed positions and brought his staff well over the boy’s head to block Kwaku’s own quarter staff . Dallan, his opening made, spun himself and smacked his weapon squarely against the most vital part of Kwaku’s anatomy, hitting so hard the pole actually broke in two, the free half fl ying into the weapons racks to knock shields to the ground with a clatter.
    Lany grinned. “Beautiful. A work of art.” He quickly followed John into the arena to survey the damage.
    Kwaku, still bent over in pain at the unexpected contact, his ebony face locked with indecision at whether to be angry or amused, began to chuckle. Sort of. Padric jumped at the sound and was off like a shot, running for the arena’s main doors as fast as his spindly legs could carry him.
    Kwaku began to laugh painfully at the boy’s retreat, while Dallan stood, half a quarterstaff still in hand, as John and Lany approached.
    “Time Master,” John began with as much seriousness as he could muster. “How dare you i n volve a child while training! ” He quickly glanced to his assistant.
    Lany took the cue. “Eaton, calm your self. Th ere was no harm done.” He shot a look in the Time Master’s direction and smiled. “Except to Kwaku, and I’m sure he’ll recover in no time, won’t you, Kwaku?”
    Kwaku, still chuckling, looked from one man to the other before letting his gaze fall upon the Scot who, half smiling, sto od transfi xed. The shock that his pride had been fed for the day had yet to wear off. Kwaku stood gingerly and began to laugh much less painfully.
    John ignored him and turned to Dallan, grimacing in empathetic pain as he took in the sight. “ Ohhh ,” he winced, then gave Dallan a stern look. “You are done for the day. Get cleaned up and meet me in the same place as yesterday. W e’ll continue where we left off .”
    Kwaku’s laughter got louder.
    Dallan’s eyes narrowed on the Azurti who was now laughing so hard he had to lean on his own quarterstaff for support. “What’s so bloody funny?’
    Kwaku walked toward the three and unexpectedly slapped the