Takedowns

This excerpt is from the middle of my WIP. Elspeth and Alec have met and gotten to know each other. Things have finally settled down for Elspeth and she is beginning to fit in, building a kiln, and it seems like Campbell has forgotten about her. She's gone out for the afternoon (I'm not sure why yet) and Alec's caught up with her. They've been talking.

"Takedowns"
excerpt from ELSPETH (working title)
Copyright 2006 Jennifer R. Clark

The conversation tapered off, and a comfortable silence settled around them. Elspeth leaned back in the grass, soaking up the sunlight and fresh air. It was an unseasonably warm day for September, but the breeze that teased a lock of her hair loose to tickle her cheek carried the tang of cold to come, and reminded her of leaf piles and hot apple cider back home. Forward home? Alec’s voice intruded on her contemplation.

“Lass, I have a thing I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Elspeth’s heart sped up. Did he return her regard? She sat up again and turned to face him where he sat with his back to the tree. “Ask away.”

“That night, the first night I met ye...I saw the three men go out of the tavern and follow you away, and when I came upon ye later I saw the attack. They were drunk, to be sure, but…how could a wee lass like yourself fight three men and come out the better for it?”

Disappointment stung, but the swell of pride she felt assuaged it somewhat. So he had seen her fight? “I’m a black belt.”

Alec grunted and shrugged. “Aye, so? I have several belts. Some black, some brown. I dinna see how the color of your belt makes a difference.”

She chuckled. “Not have a black belt, am a black belt. It means I’ve studied martial arts, and achieved a certain rank. A high one,” she added.

“Martial arts—the arts of war? Ye dinna look like an Amazon.” He eyed her with a frown. “Are the women of your time the fighters then, and the men keep the home?”

Elspeth shook her head. “I’m not a warrior, not in your sense. I’m talking about Asian martial arts. Kempo. My soke—that’s the head of our system—is American actually, but he studied under lots of different masters. As you learn you must pass tests, and you get to wear a different colored belt to indicate your rank. White is the lowest; black is pretty high...” she trailed off as she caught the glazed look in Alec’s eyes. “Sorry. I tend to ramble when I get excited about a topic.”

Alec made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “No matter. And what must you do to pass these tests?”

“All kinds of techniques. Hand-fighting, mostly, with a few weapons. We usually have to do a certain number of punches, kicks, blocks, throws, and joint locks, as well as a weapons form, an embu—practice fight—and a free-form kata.”

“Sasunnachs fight with their fists.” He fairly spit the derogatory word for Englishman. “A Highlander fights with his sword.”

“Yeah, well, in my time carrying a sword is illegal.” Alec’s eyes widened, but she continued. “Besides, this stuff is great. It gives you the element of surprise, and allows you to disable your opponent and get away. It especially helps if your assailant is drunk.” She smiled, but also felt a little qualm at the memory of the night she was attacked. Yes, she’d gotten away—but barely.

“Aye, weel, maybe I could see the value of knowin’ such things, if it were life-and-death.” He shrugged.

Elspeth knew he was really interested, but couldn’t—or wouldn’t—imagine asking a woman to teach him to fight. "I'd be happy to show you, if you’d like. But only if in return you teach me to fight with a sword." She grinned impishly at him.

Alec looked away. "Ah, lass, I canna do that. 'Twould be unseemly.”

Elspeth scoffed. "But I can already fight. You saw me handle those idiots. Fighting is fighting; I don't see a difference in 'seemliness' between doing it armed or with my bare hands. I learned several weapons as part of my training, but they aren't available here. And besides, these skirts get in the way if I'm fighting empty-handed. I can't use my legs to advantage. I'd rather be armed."

Alec folded his arms across his chest. "You can use a sghian dhu, or maybe a dirk. I willna have ye carryin' a sword about."

"Joan of Arc carried a sword and led armies. She was a woman, and…” she quickly did the mental math “she lived nearly three hundred years ago!"

"Aye, and they burned her for a witch! Listen to me, lass: the more you do to set yourself apart, the more folk mutter behind their hands. No. You'd be putting yourself in more danger from my own folk than you would be from Campbell's men, and I won't have it!"

Elspeth blinked back at him, surprised by his vehemence. She was well aware of her own attraction to him, but with his betrothal and other concerns, she had thought he felt only kindness towards her. A close friendship, at best. But now he was acting almost...protective. Proprietary. The thought warmed her. She still wanted him to teach her swordplay, though. On that she would not to be deterred.

"I promise not to ‘carry one about’. But I still think it's something I should know.” Not to mention it’s something I’ve wanted to learn for a very long time. “Look, if I can best you barehanded three times, will you teach me the sword?"

Alec stared at her, incredulous. "Lass, are ye mad? I outweigh you by a good six stone!”

Elspeth chuckled, and looked him over speculatively. “A warrior in his prime” was an accurate description of the young Scot. Despite that and the obvious height and weight differences, though, she was pretty sure a few well-timed throws would do the trick. Throws were more about leverage than size. Often, an attacker’s size and speed could be used against them. And he would probably underestimate her at first. Even if she couldn’t take him, she knew Alec would never hurt her.

"If you're so sure about it, then try me! If I lose, you've proven your point. But if I win, you teach me." Elspeth got to her feet and settled into a sparring stance: left foot forward, feet angled out at 45 degrees. She balanced on the balls of her feet and brought her hands up loosely in front of her.

By way of assent, Alec stood and moved off a few paces. The causal way he did so gave Elspeth the impression he was humoring her, making her all the more determined to best him.

The first attack came quickly, a running rush. She captured his extended wrist between her hands and twisted it, applying all his forward momentum back into his arm. He was on the ground blinking up at her in the space between heartbeats.

Elspeth bent over him and offered him her hand up, smiling sweetly. "That's called kotagaeshi. It means ‘cross-hand grab’. Care to try again?"

Alec ignored her hand and stood on his own, resolutely brushing the dust off his plaid and rearranging the drape over his shoulder. Without warning, his right arm shot out, reaching for her again. She blocked it, stepped forward, and pivoted—backing up against him and tossing him over her right hip. Once more she grinned down at him and offered her hand.

"That one's o goshi. It means 'big hip throw'. It's actually one of the first techniques I ever learned. Once more, and you teach me the sword."

Again he stood without her assistance. The blue gleam in his eyes and the slight quirk of his lips told Elspeth he wasn't angry. They also told her that now he meant business.

Alec circled her, on guard this time. Elspeth guessed he wouldn’t make the mistake of extending an arm to her again. She affected to look nonchalant, still balancing her weight on the balls of her feet, ready to move at an instant’s notice. He was off to her left when he made his move—a lunge and grab with both arms, meant to pin her own against her body and envelop her in a bear hug. That is, if she’d given him the chance.

As he lunged, she quickly dropped to her right knee, skirts flaring around her. Catching him at shoulder and thigh, she used her left shoulder as a fulcrum to his lever, pinwheeling him over her head to land flat on his back once again. She felt a brief frisson of awareness as her hand met bare skin; all of her ukes—practice partners—had worn gi pants, not kilts.

Elspeth fought the urge to look over at him, in case his kilt had been displaced in the fall. Curiosity almost won out. She was fairly certain she knew the answer to the age-old “what do they wear beneath” question, but as a scientist she wouldn’t accept it until she had experiential evidence. Besides, even in her ‘maidenly state’ she could appreciate the masculine form, and Alec—being a prime example—was sure to live up to expectations.

In the end, modesty prevailed and she turned away from him as she stood, dusting her skirts and readjusting her bodice. She put a hand to her hair and tried to finger-comb it back into some semblance of order. Behind her, she could hear him getting to his feet.

“Kata garuma. ‘Shoulder wheel.’ In case you’re interested.” Turning back and finding his garments in respectable order, she dared to meet his eyes. They held a mixture of amusement, annoyance, and…respect.

“All right, lass. I dinna think I ken exactly how you managed it, but I’m a man of honor and my word given is my pledge. Tomorrow week we’ll begin your sword lessons—but someplace no one will see, mind!—on one condition.”

Elspeth’s temper flared. “Our agreement was three takedowns, and you teach me. No other conditions.”

“Wheest, mo phiseag, settle down a bit. I’ve been tossed about enough for one afternoon.” His grin reached his eyes and they sparkled a beautiful, clear blue. “I only meant to ask ye to teach me some of your ‘kem-po’ in turn. Fair’s fair, aye?”

“Aye.” Grinning, she looked him over and finally noticed the smears of dust and grass stains on his shirt. Bits of twig and leaf tangled in his hair, which had come loose of its leather thong and danced about his shoulders in the breeze. He was an intensely powerful, attractive man and she felt a wave of desire for him, remembering that brief intimate contact of her hand on his thigh. That thought led to another realization. “Dear God, but you look a mess. I’m sure I don’t look much better. What will people say when we go back, together, looking like this?”

Alec studied her appearance, eyes moving from her unkempt hair to her dust-streaked and rumpled clothing. He frowned slightly. “Aye, they’ll think we’ve been out for a roll in the heather, and although I’ve done a bit of rolling here today,” he nodded at the flattened patch of grass that had been his last landing place with a wry grin, “I’ll not have people think I’ve taken advantage of ye.” Glancing down the hillside, he continued. “We’re not so far from Glenstrae here; we should separate and each return alone. If I can, I’ll find someone, Iseabail or Mairi maybe, and send them out so you can ‘chance’ to meet them and come back alongside.”

Elspeth nodded. “That sounds like a plan. You go on ahead—I’ll just stop by the stream, um…burn, and wash my face and straighten up a bit. If anyone does find me, I’ll think of something to tell them. Maybe a rock rolled under my foot and I fell. But don’t worry, I’m fine now.” She smiled mischievously up at him and made shooing motions with her hands. “I’ll see you back in Glenstrae. Tomorrow week, don’t forget.”

Alec nodded and headed off down the hill, back towards the river that flowed through the glen. She watched him go for a few moments, admiring his rear aspect and graceful, catlike movements over the rough terrain. The burn she had mentioned was just over the edge of the hill in the opposite direction, and finally she stood and turned that way.

The cool water felt enormously refreshing as she splashed it on her flushed face. She scooped some more up and this time let it dribble down the front of her dress between her breasts. She quickly picked the worst of the twigs and leaves out of her hair, dragged her fingers through it, and braided it back away from her face again, using a still pool at the edge of the stream as a mirror. Already her bangs were growing out, and Elspeth decided she liked the look. It seemed more mature. She stooped once again—this time to drink a double-handful of the clear, fresh water. The sound of a twig snapping behind her caused her to look up, but before she could turn and identify the source of the sound she felt a heavy blow to the back of her head, and her world dissolved in darkness.