"One, two, very good!" Leon said, spinning to his backside.
He caught the slippery bastard, parrying before shuffling back.
A thrust, Leon leaped away, then swatted the blade with an open palm.
"Come on, you're faster than that!"
"Cunt!" He growled.
"Easy, remember, controlled anger," Leon said, dancing away from every strike.
Al joined in, forcing Leon to block, then parry.
They swung at the same time, him low, her for Leon's neck. A swing down, then a half step away, Leon countered them both. He stumbled forward as Al stayed firm, and she engaged alone. She forced Leon on his toes, and the two went back and forth for over a minute.
A thrust to the belly sent Al to her knees. Leon followed up with an elbow to the back of the head, and she ate dirt.
Paul brought lunch, a bit of weed which Al refused, then they'd train strength for the rest of daylight.
Overhead, he held three hundred pounds. It took six days for him to get it right, but once he did, he let out a long shout. Leon offered a small round of applause, though Al was thrilled. She managed to pick up the same log herself, though only up to her waist before she dropped it.
He tried five hundred pounds again. Twice, three times, and at least a dozen times within an hour, he lifted it to his waist. Though he couldn't muster it any longer, Leon recommended he try something heavier.
"Just try picking it up," Leon said, pointing to seven hundred pounds.
After grasping tight, taking a breath, he hoisted the log up.
It seemed the world was darkening, but he almost got it to his waist.
"Impressive," Leon said, Paul approaching from behind atop a horse.
Behind the horse was a sled, rocks atop it with ale and wine.
After unstrapping the horse, then farewelling Paul, who returned to the village, Leaon pointed at him.
"Drag it to the village end and back, then we'll have a sip or two."
He scoffed, almost refusing.
It was shameful enough, being treated like a squire boy, but to plow like a work horse? Not until Al gave him a long stern look did he throw the ropes around his waist, tighten them, and then sprint.
Whiplash threw him back, though he stayed up. Each step was like a hundred suits of armor atop him, burning his thighs. He collapsed midway to the village, though Leon tapped the back of his head.
"Up! King of the dragons won't let you nap on his mountain!"
"He's no king," he muttered, drooling.
"Then show me," Leon demanded, tapping him again, and again, until he stood.
Al took to his side.
For another hundred paces they dragged on, Al faring much better with fresh legs. Though upon reaching the village she was out of breath as well. Leon swapped out with her, then started dragging the sled, almost knocking him over.
"Let's go Sir Brute! Glory awaits the victor!" Leon cheered.
"Are you fucking daft?" He blubbered, trying to stay on his feet.
Leon laughed, then scowled, looking towards the wood line.
The lad was a different kind of mad, determined even with shaky thighs. At the halfway mark Al switched back in, and though Leon wanted to give him a rest, he refused. Neither of them fared better than the other, and they were less than a dozen paces from finishing as the sun started setting.
"A little further," Leon said, sitting atop a thousand-pound log.
Gusts kicked dirt into his face.
He cursed, looking at the mountain. Hardok had to have been watching, he knew it. If not the dragon, then the gods, maybe even his god, the lord of death and amusement. He slammed a foot down, then drove forward.
Al, cursing aloud, pushed with all her might.
They dragged the sled beyond the line of logs, then plopped on their backsides.
Leon gave light strikes to the back of their heads, demanding they stand.
"Still light out. Swords, both of ya'."
They sparred for an hour.
He didn't cross his feet. The dull blade felt a bit lighter, and he could determine what Leon was about to do just by looking at his chest. He didn't have the speed to stop it, but just knowing gave him a chance.
While sitting round one another, eyes closed, supper bells rang.
"Headed into the caves?" Leon asked as they made for the village.
He didn't answer, too exhausted from the day, and the previous few days.
"Best of luck if you do," Leon said, separating from them. "I'll see you at dawn."
They went to their hut first.
He fetched wood for a fire, then they sat across a light flame. Colder than usual for the time of year, they were silent until moonlight peaked through the windows.
"You might regain your strength sooner than expected," Al said.
He shook his head. "We've lingered here long enough."
"It's possible," she said, touching his arm, "they're already dead."
"I know," he said, rubbing his forehead. "All the good that lad thinks I did for him, he's probably rotted away naked in ditch filled with fang bites."
"Do you think Dany and Arthur are in the swamps?"
"Why would they? One of Pete's lads, Eris I believe it was, didn't, or else we'd have been four. Hell, Dany and Arthur could've been there, and we just didn't know it."
She put a hand on his cheek. "How did you know it was me?"
"Something about the way you were weeping," he said, holding her hand. "Sad lot in that shithole, but yours was something different. You were actually weeping for something, not just at your poor existence."
"Have you, ever wept?"
"Not that I can remember."
"If we never see them again," she said, laying her head into his chest, "I may not ever again."
"Why?"
She sighed, looking into the fire.
"There'd be nothing to weep for. Those three, and Nathan who grew on me, were the best thing to happen to me in two lifetimes."
Wolves howled.
So it seemed to be wolves. No pack could muster the gargle that echoed from the woods, and his sword hand twitched.
Another silent minute with Al, and they readied their gear.