Hero Wanted! by Mark Powers

Author:Mark Powers
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781526648686
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2024-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

‘Are you feeling flustered, annoyed and confused, by any chance?’ asked Petronilla. ‘Are you sweaty and uncomfortable? Is your heart beating a million miles an hour?’

‘Yup,’ admitted Grace. ‘Pretty much all that.’

‘Then that’s how you should practise fighting. Enemies rarely come at you when you’re feeling your best.’

Grace had to admit there was a certain logic to what the bird had said. ‘Did you say you were a dodo?’

‘Aye. What did ya think I was? King o’ the sparrows?’

‘No, sorry,’ said Grace. ‘I thought dodos were extinct, that’s all.’

‘Maybes tha’ sleepy bunch on the Mainland have died out,’ said Petronilla, ‘but not here. And maybes if them others were half as good as me at wieldin’ a sword, they’d still be breathin’ today, eh? Speakin’ o’ which, draw your weapon, my lass! Let’s see what ya got.’

‘Oh. Yeah. Right.’ Grace fumbled with her scabbard and heaved out the sword Swickstipe. ‘There. Bit slow, I suppose.’

‘Bit slow!’ bellowed Petronilla. ‘If I were a venom goblin I’d have ripped your throat out with ma talons by now. You’re an absolute lemon!’

‘Hey, I can handle myself,’ said Grace, bristling. ‘A boy once pinched my ice cream when I was at the beach and I chased him for half a mile and eventually tripped him up and made him eat sand until he handed it back. OK, he was five and I was nine but I was really proud of the way I handled the situation.’

‘Ya little softie,’ spat Petronilla. ‘Ah sense you’ve sailed through yer Mainland life without true hardships of any kind.’

‘You say that, but I was really looking forward to that ice cream.’

The dodo snorted through her bulbous beak. ‘That right? You’re a disgrace. You know that? Look at the way ya hold Swickstipe. Yer arm all limp like yesterday’s asparagus. ’Tis an insult to the sacred blade. It’s like you’ve never even been in a sword fight afore now!’

‘I haven’t,’ said Grace. ‘Sword fights aren’t a big thing on the Mainland any more.’

Petronilla cut in impatiently. ‘Wait. Ya mean ye never had a sword-fightin’ lesson in yer whole life?’

Grace shook her head. ‘Nope.’

‘That’s preposterous!’ said Petronilla. ‘Every creature in Brokenshire gets sword-fightin’ lessons when it’s a child. How am I supposed to teach ya the finer points of this great art when ya don’t even know the basics?’

‘Beats me,’ admitted Grace.

‘As will every opponent you’ll ever face,’ said Petronilla gloomily. She sat back heavily on her scrawny, feathered rump. ‘By ’eck! What are we gonna do with ya, lass? Soros’s prophecy says you’ll lead us to victory in the Worthy War wieldin’ Swickstipe. But in reality – first hint of trouble and you’ll be sliced in half before you’ve even got your sword in ya hand.’

‘I can’t help that, can I?’ said Grace, turning away with a hopeless sigh. ‘I didn’t write the stupid thing.’ She reached out and gently touched the weathered surface of the gravestone. ‘Did you teach this Grace sword fighting?’

‘Grace-o’-the-Sunlit-Slopes-o’-the-Cantankerous-Mountain? Aye, I did. I taught most o’ the Graces.

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