J.T. cracked his neck and rubbed his eyes as he walked from the warmth of the main tent toward Matt’s forge up the hill. For the first time in weeks, he wore his claymore strapped across his back. In his right hand, he carried a pair of kendo sticks. His breath steamed in the chill of the bright morning, the third in a stretch since the others had dragged Phelan home. Maybe it was an omen. He didn’t think so.
“So he’ll live to do something idiotic on another day.”
J.T. snorted at the sound of Ériu’s ghostly voice. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since the day she’d left to find Phelan more than a week ago. “Apparently so. Seems that he’s made a promise not to pull any more stunts like that one, though, and the girls seem to believe it.” He shrugged slightly. “I’ll believe it when it happens. Or doesn’t happen, as the case may be.”
“As will I.” She hovered above the crust of snow, her ghostly steps leaving no trace of her passage. “The only reason I can forgive him is because no harm came to anyone here in his—or my—absence.”
He gave the ghost a wry smile as he climbed the hill. “We did try not to stir up trouble while you were out. It was surprisingly easy, considering we were all too worried to stir up much of a ruckus.”
“You tease me.”
“Of course,” he said. “It’s the only way I stay sane.”
He ducked into the forge to find Matt working on melting down some scrap into ingots. The younger man glanced up at the sudden brightness that flooded the dark space, raising a brow.
“Morning, Jay. What brought you up here?” He eyed the claymore and the kendo sticks. “I’m not sure those would handle the heat very well.”
“They don’t always handle the cold very well, either.” J.T. shook his head. “I know that Thordin’s been working with you to learn how to swing a battleaxe and that’s fine. But before he showed up, you asked me to help you learn swords and I said I’d teach you. Time for a lesson.”
“Now?”
“Right now. Can what you’re working on stand a break?”
Matt glared at the crucible and the scrap piled in it. “Yeah,” he said, his voice flat. “Ambient temperature outside is making it harder to melt shit down right now. Maybe if I wait for afternoon it’ll get a little easier. Even a few degrees might make a difference.”
“Could be.” J.T. flipped one of the kendo sticks toward Matt and nodded when the younger man caught the bamboo stave. “Come on. I’ll put you through your paces and let off some steam myself. It’ll probably be good for me.”
“Stressed?”
J.T. shrugged as he turned and shouldered open the door into the cold sunshine. “A little. I’ve been holding other people’s lives in my hands too much and it makes me ornery. Come on. Out into the sunshine. I’ll try not to hit you too hard.”
Matt smiled, following him out the chill, his tone wry. “Thanks.”
His companion shot him a lopsided grin. “You’re welcome. If we’re lucky, Thom will show up and kick both of our asses—well. He’ll try to kick mine, anyway.”
“He did say he’d be up here later.”
“Good.” J.T. gave Matt an evil smile. “Let’s get warmed up, then. Once he shows up, we’ll show you what a real sparring match looks like.”
“Jacqueline’s going to need to slather a bunch of salve on your bruises by the time you’re done, isn’t she?”
J.T. laughed. “Quite possibly. Probably.”
It felt good to laugh and not give a damn about what would be happening in the next few minutes, hours, days. At least for a little while, he could have that.
He was going to take every advantage of the downtime that he could—starting right now with ignoring the baleful look that Ériu’s ghost shot him.
It was high time he had a little fun.
I hope they get a rest but, the way things go for them, they probably won’t.
Thanks for the new post. I enjoy this story immensely.