Page 14 of The Timeless Vigilante

“I wonder who murdered him,” Ainsley said, staring off in wonder.

Sophia shook her head. “Again, not my problem. That’s under the jurisdiction of the leader of the Rogue Riders—Dwayne Stone.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BREAKING POINTS

The Expanse, The Gullington, Scotland, United Kingdom

The sword sliced through the cool, damp air, making a whistling sound. Gen’s breath clouded before her as she faced the invisible foe on the cold, unforgiving grounds of the Expanse of the Gullington. Her boots pressed into the frost-hardened earth with each maneuver.

The wind howled around her, a wild chorus that matched the fierceness in her heart, whipping her hair and the fabric of her attire into a frenzied dance. She lunged forward, her sword slicing through the chill air, an echo of battles long past vibrating in her grip. With each thrust and parry, her movements were fluid yet sharp, honed by years of discipline and the raw emotions churning within her from her abrupt plunge through time.

The metallic trace of the blade cut through the wet scent of the Expanse, grounding her in the moment, even as her mind roiled with the dissonance of centuries. She could hear the distant clash of steel on steel from memories that clung to her like shadows, guiding her hand in a ballet of aggression and control.

Gen spun, her sword arcing gracefully yet deadly, as she imagined striking at the heart of her confusion and frustration, battling the invisible enemy that mirrored her own turmoil.

The sky above was a tumultuous canvas, reflecting her internal storm, with clouds racing across as if fleeing from unseen pursuers. Her every breath was a defiance, a claim to her strength and resilience, each exhale visible in the cold air as if casting out the specters of her dislocation.

As she halted, standing amidst the quieting winds, Gen’s chest heaved, her sword lowering but her spirit undiminished, the silent moors bearing witness to her unyielding resolve.

“You can fight, but that’s no surprise,” Sophia said, having snuck into place around a table of weapons, giving Gen a coy smile.

With ragged breath, Gen lowered the sword and shrugged. “My father taught me when I wouldn’t shut up. He said women should be pretty and I said, I’d rather cut bad men. I won in the end.”

“You’re a legend in the making,” Sophia observed. “We just need to find you the right weapon. Which is why I’ve enlisted an expert to help.”

“A gnome who is the breathing and beating force of this land?” Gen pretended to ask. “Or a stoic warrior who knows everything about what a dragon is feeling by looking at them?”

“My husband,” Sophia answered with a sly smile, holding up her hand to the grounds where a dashing tall and dark-haired gentleman dressed in armor strode out. He was both modern and old-world in appearance. “His name is Wilder and you’ve met his boss, Subner, the Protector of Weapons, who lives with Father Time. And, of course, he’s also a rider for the Dragon Elite.”

“Of course,” Gen agreed with a nod. “And I have met Subner. He is the unhappy type.”

Sophia chuckled. “He’d wear that like a badge of honor. And yes, Subner presides over all weapons and my husband, Wilder, is his assistant.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” the man with piercing blue eyes full of old wisdom said when he neared Gen, wringing her hand.

“So what does it mean that you’re the assistant to the Protector of Weapons?” Gen asked, watching as the dragonrider, with a grace to impress, pivoted, making his way over to the table of weapons.

He withdrew a sword, testing the balance in his hands and then turned around, smirking. “It means that I feel and know every experience every weapon has ever been through just by touching it. This is a blessing and a curse. I can see through time, to histories not told. I can see death when I touch a blade. But I also know the strengths and weaknesses of every weapon and how they failed the one who wielded them, or rather, how the one who held them failed.”

“That’s chilling,” Gen said, when Wilder handed her the sword he’d picked. She exchanged it for the one she’d been exercising with. “So what would you have me do?”

“Practice,” he answered. “We’re going to find the weapon that matches you. The one that will play to your strengths while minimizing your weaknesses. I’m sure, as a Beaufont, this won’t be hard. They all seem to magnetize to weapons, about like how you and Sophia magnetized to unhatched dragon eggs, which I shouldn’t have to tell you is quite rare.”

“I’m glad you did tell me,” Gen said, giving Sophia a pointed look. She swung the sword through the air a bit, testing the blade’s weight, deciding how she’d like to use it. Then she neared the wooden post meant for sparring and wheeled around in a full circle and brought the sword across the wooden pole. The beam didn’t give, the metal blade did, shattering in two, ricocheting through the air.

Everyone froze, looking around at the aftermath of what had just happened there. Then Wilder threw up his hands, a wide grin on his face as he laughed with surprise.

“Did you just break the sword?” Wilder asked, a look of shock and amazement on his face as he regarded Gen.

Her gaze jerked down to the sliver of the sword that had broken off the top of the weapon. “I’m sorry. Maybe the metal is brittle from age.”

“It’s a giant-made sword,” he pointed out. “They only get stronger with age.”

He leaned over and picked up the piece of the sword, inspecting it. Then he glanced back over his shoulder at Sophia, grinning as he held up the piece of broken metal. “She broke the sword.”

“It happens,” Sophia said with a laugh. “Maybe that just means a sword isn’t the right weapon for her.”

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