Restart Again: Volume 1 by Adam Scott (motivational books for women TXT) 📗

to engage the left group. Ground the commander, deal with the bowman, and then engage the commander head on.

Windstep. Greater Agility. Blunted Blade. A beautifully synchronized ring echoed across the empty street as Lia and I drew our swords in unison. She can do this. I gave her one last look over my shoulder, watching as she lowered into her practiced combat stance with her sword held out at the ready. Even in the midst of a battle, I felt a great surge of pride in how far Lia had come in such a short time. She can do this.

I spun to face the two men on my right, rushing them with unnatural speed. Both of the guards had begun to draw their weapons when Lia kicked her first target unconscious, but I closed the gap between us before the blades had left their sheathes. I took the first man in the side of the head with the flat of my blade, sending him careening towards his partner. The force of the impact threatened to topple them both, but the second man was able to disentangle himself from his injured comrade and fully draw his weapon as I advanced.

Unfortunately for him his stance was sloppy, with his feet far too close together for efficient movement. His first easily dodged swing set him off balance, leaving me a perfect window to slide into close range and loop my sword arm up under his armpit. My free hand flew up to his forehead as I kicked out the back of his knees, sending him cartwheeling past me. The torque on his pinned shoulder dislocated the joint with a sickening pop as he fell. He screamed as he crashed hard onto his face and toppled head over heels into a crumpled heap.

My mind raced as hundreds of important bits of information accosted me from all sides. My first target was unconscious, and the second wouldn’t be rising in time to see the end of battle. Swords clashed from where Lia engaged her two targets, but her steady breathing and the sliding of her feet across the marble informed me she was in control for now. Three pairs of heavy footfalls headed my direction from the street, and the captain was shouting at his bowmen to open fire.

I heard the two small clicks followed by the whir of bowstrings as I dove forward, rolling in a tight arc on my shoulder. The bolts whizzed past me to clatter angrily against the wall of the inn far to my rear. They’re reloading. Window open. With the ranged threat momentarily out of play I took to my feet and sprinted to meet the approaching group head on. The two in front both sent overhead blows at my face while the man behind them stumbled, unsure of how to leverage a clean blow at me without hitting his friends.

Supporting the flat of my blade with my free hand I caught both swings above my head simultaneously. I leaned hard to the right, letting both blows slide off the end of my weapon, using the momentum from the deflected strikes to spin past my attackers to the man behind them. My blade whirled in a horizontal arc as I spun, catching the third man by surprise. It completely crushed the side of his breastplate as the full weight of the blunted weapon connected, sending him to the ground with a ragged gasp.

The men turned to catch me, lashing out with their longswords. I narrowly avoided the blows with a quick backstep, watching a blade hiss by my face deadly fast. I could hear the bowmen scrambling to reload their crossbows, wrenching against the heavy draw levers. Eleven seconds. Lashing out in a wide arc, I opened enough distance between myself and my current attackers to draw the practice sword in my offhand. “Is five on one not good enough odds for you?” I taunted cockily. “Why don’t you try actually hitting me this time?”

My goading proved successful as both men roared out a frustrated battle cry and doubled their assault. I parried each blow in turn, waiting for an exploitable mistake. Six seconds. Finally, the error came: The guard to my right overextended himself with a brutal two-handed strike that sent him stumbling past me. Catching the other man’s attack on my training blade, I dropped my bastard sword into a reverse grip and punched him hard in the face with the crossguard. A brilliant red spray painted the flawless marble behind him as his nose and mouth exploded with blood.

Capitalizing on my advantage, I turned and slashed down with both weapons at the unbloodied guard. He tried to catch the attack on his sword but was instantly overpowered, which sent his own sword smashing down onto his forehead. I saw his eyes roll into the back of his head as the blow knocked him out cold. Three seconds. The bowmen were throwing their levers to the ground and attempting to load a bolt into the weapons. Not enough time. New plan.

I could hear Lia fighting somewhere behind me, now in a one on one match with the last remaining guard. The captain was closing in on me now, apparently tired of watching his men fail in their efforts to put me down. In the back of my mind I heard an odd scraping sound coming from near the inn that I couldn’t place, but I didn’t have time to look back, so I filed it away to process with the less important sensory input. With a flying leap I punched the last standing guard a second time just as he regained enough composure to face me again. A wet squelch came from his ruined face as he fell still onto the bloody marble.

Sheathing the practice blade quickly I gripped my manasteel sword in both hands. The captain beat his mace against the side of his shield as he approached, most likely an attempt to intimidate me. Time’s