The Night's Curse #3 (Waverly Stump and The 7 Realms)

Chapter 4

The brothers led Waverly up a cliff. There were pieces of finely cut rock jutting out from the side that made it quite easy to climb. Diarmaid revealed that he and his brother had carved out the rocks a very long time ago with help from an old acquaintance.

"Took two seasons because Dermot always, always got dirt in his eyes. I can't go any further because I can't see. Wimp!" Diarmaid complained, mimicking his brother's voice in an overly exaggerated manner.

At the top, the cliff was flat and carpeted with grass. On the far end of it, an apple tree stood on a thicker grass carpet with smaller trees growing around it. A long wooden bench rested under the tree, and the strong breeze made its leaves dance. Waverly mentioned that it all looked very impressive for something that was handmade.

"Thank you." Diarmaid grinned. "I did half of all the heavy work including, occassionly moving Dermot's behind here."

His brother gave him a pointed look.

"You talk too much." He muttered, shoving a spear into Diarmaid's hand.

Despite being the eldest, Dermot was an inch shorter, and he came off as more responsible than his younger. Cassiope floated toward the apple tree and stood next to it, making the landscape look even more beautiful. The air up on the cliff was clean, and the sea below them was a clear blue.

Waverly spotted Elves rowing small canoes in the water.

"Who are they?" She asked, shielding her eyes from the sunlight.

"Local fishermen going about their daily business." Dermot replied. "Come on. Let's do a little sword practice first."

He showed her where to stand then walked over to a spot where they had stacked weapons in a brown cloth.

"We knew right from when we heard you'd join the Tyros that they'd shove you into the nasty end, make you eat dirt." He continued.

A bit of embarrassment passed through her face.

"It's okay. We get it." Diarmaid comforted next to Cassiope. "We were once Tyros too. We've been there."

"Why do they do it?" Waverly asked quietly.

"To make you feel like you're the lesser one amongst them." Dermot added and handed her a thin sword carved from yew.

"They try to intimidate you in the hopes that you'll lick their boots and they would look superior in the end. Diarmaid and I got over it in less than two months. See, we made them respect us. It will be harder for you seeing as you're Human."

Her eyebrows went up. "What do you mean by that?"

"You're one hundred percent new – to everything. You haven't known yet what it's like to be a Tyro; to handle them, live with them. You're foreign, and it's easier to pick on a foreigner – someone who doesn't know what is what."

Dermot clanked his wooden sword against hers. Waverly realized that some of his hair was braided back, making him look tough, and at that moment, a lot handsomer than he usually was.

"Give me your best offense." He ordered.

She barely blinked before Dermot was standing behind her, his sword around her neck and hers pressed to her chest.

"You should never lose concentration like that." He whispered into her ear, his breath bathing her neck. He smelled of lovely fragrance, like cherry laurel.

He went to stand in front of her again. "Try again. Don't think about anything, but your opponent's blade because it's the only thing that matters."

Waverly went a second time, but lasted only a few minutes. Her sword flew out of her hands and sailed right through Cassiope who shrieked out of fright.