Skout's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Skout found her spot in the line of recruits. She kept her father's plain dagger tight in its wrap. The master-at-arms circled the yard, calling pairs to the first bout. She breathed slow. She had a place. She only had to hold it. Then a voice cut across the line. "I know you." A young recruit stepped out, thick through the shoulders, a farm boy's sunburn on his neck. He pointed at her face. "You're from my village. You're the smith's granddaughter." He said it louder. "That's a woman. She has no place here." Heads turned. The line broke into muttering. The master-at-arms stopped walking. His hand settled on his belt. Skout felt the yard tilt under her. One name from a stranger, and the whole test could end. Gareth moved before she could speak. He came off the fence where he had waited, the wrapped dragon blade still at his side. He walked straight to the recruit, slow and sure, the way a guard walks a crowd back. "You're loud for a boy who hasn't drawn steel yet," Gareth said. The recruit swallowed but held his ground. "She's your daughter." Skout's heart pounded. Her father could not lie his way past this. She would not let him fall for her. She stepped forward instead. "He's right," she said. The yard went still. The master-at-arms turned his full weight toward her. Gareth's face went white. "I'm a woman," Skout said. She pitched her voice so the whole yard caught it. "And I'll fight him for my place. Right now. If he beats me, I go home. If I beat him, I test with the rest." The recruit laughed. The master-at-arms did not. He studied her a long moment. He looked at the recruit, red-faced and loud, then back at Skout, still and ready. "A wager, then," the master-at-arms said. "Practice blades. First man down loses." His mouth twisted. "Or first woman." Gareth grabbed her arm. "Skout," he said low. "Don't." "You gave me my place," she whispered. "Let me keep it my way." A guard tossed her a wooden sword. It felt light and wrong after real steel. The recruit swung hard and early, sure of his size. Skout gave ground, read his shoulder, and slipped inside his reach. She hooked his knee and drove her blunt point to his throat. He hit the dirt. Silence. Then the master-at-arms nodded once. "You fight," he said. "That's more than most." He raised his voice for the yard. "She tests with the rest. Any man who won't stand beside her can go home now." No one left. Skout lowered the wooden sword, her arms shaking. Gareth let out a breath. But his eyes dropped to the wrapped blade at his own hip. The whole yard watched her now. And every knight would watch her father's side, where the dragon sword still waited, in plain view.