The outcome of the battle was in little doubt. Lizzie had waited six years for this moment, and she could outthink Sean three times over. Kevin wasn’t quite so easy to outmaneuver, but he had a soft spot for Lizzie that would likely keep his enthusiasm for defeating her in check.
And Lizzie had a secret weapon, although she wasn’t aware of it yet.
Moira watched as the dueling forces staked out their turf. The rules had been decided, the moats cleared of a couple of stray alligators, and a rather sizable audience assembled. And one small healer, on the cusp of her first battle, was bouncing so hard she was going to end up wet before a single blow was meted out.
It was Marcus who did Moira most proud, however. He stood about six feet behind saber-waving Lizzie, dressed in black, glowering, and generally frightening the populace while doing very little. A soldier supporting his general.
A quick whifting sound warned Moira of incoming company. Aervyn grinned, waved, and took off running for the drawbridge, leaving a trail of bubbles in his wake.
Nell unfolded a chair and sat down, chuckling. “He was having a bubble bath when the news arrived. I don’t think he did the world’s best job of rinsing himself off.”
Moira watched him wave an imaginary sword through the air. “Looks like he’ll be joining the battle.”
“Nope.” Nell shook her head. “This is Lizzie’s show. He’s going to help Jamie with the new armor spells.”
Now that was interesting. “Tweaked them, has he?” Realm had a series of carefully coded spells that players coated themselves with before battle. They allowed for wild and unruly fighting with little risk of harm, and very accurate scorekeeping.
“He might be talked into letting you beta test.” Nell grinned. “In case a sword fight or two is in those mysterious plans of yours.”
Moira grinned. They just might be-an old witch needed to be crafty to move up the Realm ranks. She turned back to the drawbridge, eye caught by a stir in the crowd. “Oh, good. My little gift has arrived.”
Nell scooted her chair closer to the edge of the ramparts. “What are you up to?”
“Just a wee leveling of the playing field.”
“A legal one?” Her companion chuckled. “Or am I going to have to report you?”
“Entirely legal.” Game rules stipulated very clearly that no magical assistance could be offered to the duelers. Which was full of all kinds of loopholes, if you were clever witch.
Warrior Girl, dressed in full battle regalia, walked toward Lizzie. The drawbridge was silent, all eyes on the solemn-high approach. Ginia stopped, her words amplified by a thoughtful spellcube. “Lizzie Donegal, I bring you three gifts, in the tradition of women warriors everywhere.”
Moira grinned-that part had been her idea.
Lizzie’s eyes were as big as plates.
I take it this is your idea? Moira jumped at her nephew’s wry mindvoice. She didn’t bother to reply-he’d know the answer soon enough. And a little pomp and circumstance never hurt anyone.
Ginia pulled the first item out of a resplendent purple velvet sack. “To strengthen your feet, my very first pair of shiny purple boots.”
Nell laughed in quiet surprise, eyes glued to the activity down below. “I haven’t seen those in two years.”
“Aye.” Little feet grew out of even the most treasured footwear. “But when they fit her, she never took them off.” Moira remembered tucking Ginia into bed, shiny boots and all, the birthday eve they’d arrived.
Ten-year-old fingers laced Lizzie’s feet into the boots, their audience waiting patiently. Moments of import couldn’t be rushed.
A moment later, Ginia stood again and pulled out a second bag, much smaller this time. “For courage and strength, an armband hammered with a mighty stone of agate.” She slid a wide silver band, clearly Elorie and Sophie’s work, around Lizzie’s non-sword arm.
Nell chuckled again. “Somebody studied Realm’s rule book very carefully.”
Indeed. They’d checked with Kevin-there was no rule against objects born from magic. “The true power of that armband is the love that made it.”
“Mmm. Pretty soon we’re going to need a lawyer witch around here.” The edges of Nell’s eyes crinkled. “It’s a great idea-I’m glad someone thought of it.”
Ginia reached for one last bag, hanging from her waist. “For wisdom and long life, and generosity in victory, this simple hair clip.”
Lizzie leaned forward, her nose almost in Ginia’s hands. Moira knew what she saw-a small and nondescript bit of metal, tarnished by time and age-old use.
“What on earth is that?” asked Nell quietly.
“Just a wee hair clip.” Ah, an old witch could still confound the best of them. She watched in satisfaction as mystified whispers spread in the waiting crowd.
Ginia pinned it in Lizzie’s hair. “Worn by a woman known only as Aife.”
Moira grinned. Ginia had delivered the line exactly as instructed. Now they’d see who’d really been paying attention in witch history lessons.
It pleased her mightily when Nell was quick to laugh beside her. “Family heirloom, is it? That explains a lot.”
One of her most precious, even if the legend wasn’t true.
Nell leaned over a little further. “Look. Kevin’s eyes just doubled in size. I think you’ve given Lizzie the advantage you intended.”
Kevin whispered in his twin’s ear-and then two sets of eyes stared at Lizzie with significantly more respect.
A puzzled six-year-old stared back, and then turned to the man in black behind her. “Who was Aife, Uncle Marcus?”
“She was Irish.” He paused a beat. “The greatest Irish sorceress and warrior who ever lived.”
Moira waited as several thousand years of Irish mythology came to rest on the simple pin in Lizzie’s hair. And watched in pride as her youngest student turned back to her foes-eyes fierce and hand on her sword.
Sean and Kevin were in a wee mite of trouble.
Sophie tried hard not to grin as Lizzie turned, a warrior ready-with shiny purple boots, Darth Vader sword, and the pin of an ancient Celtic druidess in her hair.
Battle referees were supposed to be impartial.
Do witches even know the meaning of that word? Marcus spoke inside her head, his face showing no signs of his clear amusement. She’s going to cream them.
Given the way Lizzie was waving her sword around, that was entirely possible, especially if Sean and Kevin didn’t stop gaping long enough to actually defend themselves.
Give them a moment, said Marcus dryly. They’ve just been ganged up on by half the womenfolk of witchdom.
It’s boots and a little jewelry. Sophie was well aware he was right, but there was something entirely unnatural about agreeing with Marcus. We’re just making sure Realm’s newest female warrior gets a little respect.
And given his silent stance as the metaphorical holder of her cloak, they weren’t the only ones. Which was just plain weird.
Sophie surveyed her battle participants-this was an awfully long time for Sean to stand still. “Everyone ready?”
It took a second, but when Sean picked up his sword, the gleam of pirates flashed in his eyes. Not entirely easy pickings. “Ready!” Kevin stood at his shoulder, silent and watchful, saber at half mast.
If Lizzie was smart, she’d be a lot more worried about Kevin.
“Fight fair!” Sophie raised the rainbow flag of Realm. “And-GO!”
Lizzie’s mad charge toward Sean’s belly wasn’t a huge shock. Marcus hot on her heels, sword at the ready, was.
Surprised pirate tangled with warrior priestess, magic singing off their armor spells. Sophie winced. Someone should have added reinforcing spells to the swords.