Chapter 3

"Good evening, Mistress Miriam. I wasn't aware these parts are dangerous enough for you to answer the door thus." Adrian smiled mirthlessly, his teeth flashing in the dim moonlight.

Miriam returned a cool one, but didn't put her sword away. "A lone woman ought to be prepared to defend herself. What brings you back here, sir?"

Jordan couldn't stand the charade any longer. How dare the woman lie to them? They, the king's most trusted advisors! She plays the game even when she knows her trickery has been revealed. He drew his broadsword and charged through the door, growling through gritted teeth, "Dirty witch! We'll bring you to the king whether you're willing or not!"

Adrian did not stop him. A woman who grips a broadsword so effortlessly obviously can defend herself. He would have to give his prized Swordsmaster another lecture on the importance of obedience. He stepped into the cottage, mindful to scrape his boots carefully outside the house. The clinking of the swords intensified as each became familiar with the opponent. Adrian noted that what Miriam lack in sheer strength was compensated by deftness. As Swordmaster Jordan roared and swung heavily, Miriam dodged as many blows as she could to save her energy, but looked for any openings to retaliate. Jordan's merciless strokes forced her to back into a corner. Miriam ducked as Jordan's blade swung close, possibly severing several strands of unruly hair. His blade bit into the heavy oak of the bookshelves, toppling heavy volumes of books. As he struggled to free his blade, Miriam scrambled out of the corner. She attacked from behind just as Jordan freed his sword to meet her blade. She took advantage of his recovery, showering him with a flourish of deft strokes, driving him back. Adrian kept a hand on his own broadsword, ready to replace Jordan if need be. But Jordan was hammering his sword against Miriam's. Even under the dim light, Adrian could see her perspire with the effort. Her blade trembled, slowing down considerably. She was tiring, and they all knew it.

In a flash, Miriam's blade sneaked out of the web of silver Jordan had woven around her. Before the men could react, she extinguished the candles on the table. All was dark. Adrian froze, fearing a mere breath could give away his position. Before he could react, he heard a grunt, then a thump. His ears sought out the darkness, probing for any sounds that would give away Miriam's position. A weak stream of moonlight broke out of the clouds and through the curtained windows. He could barely make out Miriam's position before the twinkle of light on her sword charged his way. His blade met hers briefly, then shied away. He leaped away from her, keeping his balance easily on the balls of his feet. The moonlight disappeared again. He could hear Miriam's panting, but did not want to initiate the attack for fear of killing her. They each hoped their ears could penetrate the darkness.

The light came so gradually that at first Adrian thought his wishful eyes had conjured it. He inched toward the light source silently.

"Miriam?" Isaac's voice called out from the hall.

Miriam's shoulders tensed. She had no choice but to answer. "I'm not injured, Father. Please go back."

Adrian's blade shot out as soon as the words left her mouth. She fended off the blows seconds before it was about to strike her. They battled each other's vague outline, relying more on the hiss of the slicing blades than on their eyes. Miriam backed away from his attack, the hearth behind her. While her right hand swung the blade, her left reached behind to find the flint hanging by the brick chimney. Her fingers skimmed the rough masonry. She grasped the familiar object in her left hand as hot pain shot up her right arm. The blade clattered onto the floor. She clutched her injured forearm, cradling it against her breast. Her left hand could feel the warmth of the blood, but her right could not.

"Oh God, Miriam! Did I hurt you?" Adrian's voice spoke urgently.

" Miriam!"

The light grew stronger. Isaac's frail body appeared in the hall. He braced one hand against the wall for support. As soon as he can see again, Adrian sheathed his sword and stepped towards Miriam.

"Where's the bandage?" he asked.

Miriam gritted her teeth, nodding towards the medicine bag by the door. "It's in that canvas bag. There's a roll of bandage in a little pocket on the inside."

Adrian took the bandage and tied it tightly to her arm to slow the blood flow. It wasn't a deep wound. Miriam staggered to the bag to find the special ointment she used on wounds. They sat on the wooden bench as Adrian helped her bandage her arm. He had seen enough wounds to know. Isaac hobbled to them carefully, Max following dutifully.

"Don't worry, Father. It's just a surface wound. Nothing serious," Miriam reassured.

Isaac bent down to check on Jordan, who was lying unconsciously on the floor.

"He's fine. He will have a bit of a headache when he wakes up, but he will survive."

Adrian sighed with relief. He did not want to lose his prized Swordsmaster. "Are you the Healer of Rae, sir?" he asked.

"I was. The title belongs to my daughter now," Isaac said. He sat down wearily on next to them. Max settled down at his feet, his eyes followed Adrian's every movement suspiciously.

"I was sent by the king to seek you. He has a sickness that none can cure."

Isaac smiled wryly before replying, "And he expects me to forget the rift between us."

"He killed my mother," Miriam spat viciously. "I was five. She hid me in a neighbor's attic. I saw the soldiers dragged her out of the house by her hair, made her kneel in the mud while they looted our possessions. I heard her scream as they raped her. Then they took her to the royal dungeon where she died of typhus."

Adrian's face softened. "I am truly sorry for your loss. The king persecuted the Healers for the wrong reason. He has been repenting of his rash action every day since the end of the Great War. He wishes to apologize to you personally, Issac of Rae. He admits that the late Queen and the Princess did not die because of your negligence."

"And it took him fifteen long years to realize his mistake?" Miriam snorted disdainfully. "Sir, I do hope you have another Healer on your list to seek. We will not be persuaded easily."