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Metal sang as the cutlasses clashed. Rush clenched his teeth against his sword’s vibrations and swung again. His brother, ahead in both age and height, deflected with his blade. Lewis held out both arms in a taunting gesture and smirked. “You need to try more than that one move if you want to win.”
Rush grinned and returned to his stance. His mind bubbled with anticipation over his latest strategy to defeat his brother. He swung again, the blade coming in low, heading to Lewis’ midsection, but his brother twisted his sword around and sent the strike to the side. Rush pulled back and parried as Lewis delivered a series of vicious attacks. Batting a thrust aside, dodging a swing, he backpedaled until his shoulder blades scraped the wooden wall of his house.
Perfect.
Lewis’ sword whistled toward his head. Ducking, Rush rolled into the dirt, kicking the back of Lewis’ knee with as much strength as he could muster.
“Ow!”
Rush laughed even before finishing his roll. As he stood, a rough shove sent him into the dirt. His laugh only grew louder.
“That’s hardly proper sword etiquette.” Lewis stood over him with an amused smile and offered a hand. “You’ll be winning no ladies with dishonorable tactics like that.”
Rush wrapped his hand around Lewis’ wrist, pulling himself upright. “Who cares about winning ladies? If I’m in an actual fight, I’m more interested in staying alive. And besides, how can I know proper sword etiquette if the only person who knows it hates me?”
Lewis ruffled Rush’s hair, and the younger brother scowled. “Maybe he wouldn’t hate you if you didn’t compare his cooking to pig slop.”
“It’s not my fault the army food dulled his tongue.”
Shaking his head, Lewis laughed. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt he’ll ever like you now, especially if you keep eavesdropping on him. You’ll just have to learn from me.”
They returned to their stances and reached toward each other with their blades, the cutlasses lightly touching in salute.
Then the fight began.
Their blades twisted and turned around each other, clanging with every strike. Rush clipped Lewis’ gloved wrist with his sword’s tip and they lowered their swords.
Lewis nodded. “You’re doing better. But you have to get better at predicting“ —He lunged and stuck Rush’s side with the blade’s flat edge— “your enemy’s movements.”
The younger brother hadn’t moved his sword. He looked at where Lewis still held the cutlass at his side and back to his brother and feigned indignance. “You didn’t even salute!”
Lewis smiled. “If I’m in an actual fight, I’m more interested in surviving.”
Rush shook his head and waved his hand, brushing the match away. His arms ached from their afternoon of sparring; he sheathed the blade.
Lewis did the same as his eyes traveled past Rush and caught on something behind him. Rush turned, recognizing a girl about his age leaning against his porch railing, watching their antics. Instead of smiling, as she usually did, she stared at them with a wrinkled brow. She bit her lip and twisted her braid.
Lewis stepped forward. “What is it, Olive?”
She pushed herself off the railing and walked toward them. “Did either of you visit Fort Hast yesterday?”
Rush glanced at Lewis, and they both looked at Olive. Lewis shook his head. “I was working all day. Rush too, after he got back from school. We had extra chores to do since our parents are gone.”
She twisted her braid tighter and looked at the ground. “Then who left this inside?” Reaching into her satchel, she withdrew a small metal ball and held it between her forefinger and thumb.
Lewis stumbled back a step. “A musket ball?”
Rush squinted, stepping closer to examine the object. If that weaver’s son, Thomas, was trying to loot their fort again, there would be war. Rush had promised as much last spring. The spoiled brat probably didn’t even know what war really was.
Olive handed the ball to Lewis. “I don’t think any of our militia would touch the fort.”
“It’s Thomas.” Rush nearly spat out the name.
Olive shook her head. “Whoever it was expunged every sign of an intruder. This is all they left behind. Thomas could never be that tidy.”
All three chuckled at that. Rush’s brow furrowed with a realization. “What if it’s the turncoats?”
Lewis mirrored Rush’s expression at that but he waved his hand in dismissal. “They never come this far south. And we’re too big of a town to raid easily.”
“But the hunters said they found a fresh trail in the forest. What if it’s them?”
“If it’s them, we’ll be fine. The militia will handle it.”
This eased Rush’s worries slightly, but Olive seemed even more distressed with this news. She opened her mouth to protest.
Lewis spoke first. “How about we go check the fort? Maybe we’ll find more clues.”
She nodded, straightening her posture and squaring her shoulders.
Rush patted the cutlass at his side. “If we find any rebels in the woods, I’ll give ‘em a piece of my mind. And by mind, I mean sword.”
Olive frowned. “They will have muskets, Rush. Your sword won’t accomplish anything. It’s not even sharp.”
Lewis stepped forward and put one hand on each of their shoulders. “If we run into any trouble, we’re coming back here, not fighting.”
Rush made a face.
“I’m glad you agree. Let’s go.”
Usually, the forest teemed with life and sound. But today, it was as quiet as a graveyard. The trees gossiped, a breeze carrying their rumors from branch to branch. Rumors of an attack, Rush suspected. Almost as if the forest creatures knew something they were too scared to tell.
He stepped over a root, ducked under a branch, and surveyed the woods. The shadows plotted against him, providing ample space for his imagination to conjure up images of armed marauders riding fearsome beasts. He wondered if the legends were true, if they really rode house-sized monsters into battle. Olive’s eyes were wide; whatever phantom enemies Rush could picture, hers doubtless had twice as many teeth.
A ten minutes’ walk from the town, they came into a clearing. In the middle sat a ramshackle miniature wooden castle surrounded by stumps of the trees that now formed the fort. The walls, made of horizontally stacked logs, rose a few feet higher than Rush’s head, and the front formed into an archway filled with a salvaged house door. A sign over the arch read, in messy lettering, FORT HAST. The door remained closed, as usual, to keep forest critters out, but a simple lock on the exterior let people come and go. Lewis pushed aside the wooden deadbolt.
Rush gripped his cutlass hilt.
The door squealed open on rusty hinges.
The older brother poked his head inside and glanced around. “It’s all clear.” Rush and Olive followed him in. The castle’s single room was open to the sky and daylight streamed in. A few chests and barrels sat to one side, and a round table with three rickety chairs adorned the center. They had stuffed various odds and ends—treasures from their adventures—on shelves here and there.
The three spread out, checking every nook and studying every cranny, looking in barrels and under chairs and behind shelves.
It was spotless.
It’s almost…too clean, Rush thought. Not even he was particular enough to straighten up the fort like this. The oil lamp had been refilled, the floor swept.
Rush blinked. Swept?
As Lewis continued poking around and Olive shifted from one foot to the other, Rush stepped outside, careful not to touch the ground just in front of the door. He squatted and studied the dirt.
“Huh,” he muttered. “Nothing.”
Bending even lower, he held his nose to the earth and took a deep whiff. His heart stopped at what he smelled.
“Rush?” He popped up to see Lewis and Olive staring at him. His brother squinted. “What…are you doing?”
“Black powder.”
Both friends’ eyes widened.
“I smell it. They swept it outside so we wouldn’t know.”
Olive bit her lip. “You really think it was the rebels?”
“I don’t think Royal Arcian infantrymen would reload their muskets inside a playhouse.”
Lewis rubbed his face. “We need to tell the captain immediately. They’re probably still around here.”
Rush pulled his cutlass from the metal sheath with a flourish. “I’ll cover the back. You two go.”
Lewis simply nodded and withdrew his own sword. Rush shuddered at that—Lewis never obeyed his younger brother. Especially without argument. His heart pounded in his ears and his grip on the sword hilt could have strangled a man.
“Olive, stay beside me. If anyone comes at us, run back as fast as you can and get—”
The wind carried a sharp crack to their ears, faint but unmistakable.
Olive paled. “That sounded like…”
Lewis’ face hardened. “It is. And I don’t think it’s a hunter.”
More gunshots rang from the direction of the town. Rush’s heart lept into his throat.
Taking on an expression of pure fury, Lewis raised his sword toward the sounds of battle. “Run. Now.”
They ran, even as the gunshots became ever louder.
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