The Sword Maiden

After All This Time

I'm not sure I'm breathing as I lurchingly crawl on hands and knees to this last tent.  

I looked back at Redwar.  He's watching me, and he shakes his head no.  He has not found Derrek.  

This tent is our last chance.  

As I raised my dagger for one last ripping, I thought about how ironic it is that the tent of my enemy is the one I'm hoping so hard will hold what he tore away from me months ago.  I stabbed the dagger through the white cloth and sliced it more savagely than I had any of the others.  

I almost don't look under it.  If he wasn't there...  I pulled it back and looked under. 

The tent is stuffy inside, and smells faintly of smoke.  The fire pit in the middle is the reason for that.

But I don't register any of this.  

Because, laying against the side of the tent, bound and gagged, looking at me with wide eyes, is my brother.  

"Derrek!"  

He lets out a muffled cry against his gag and starts trying to wiggle his way towards me.  I start to try to duck under and reach him, only to realize my hole is too small.  

I withdraw and cut the hole of the century in my frustration.  Then I roll under.  And I lunge on hands and knees for my brother.  

It's probably a miracle I don't slice my own brother as I hastily cut through his bonds.  "Derrek.  Derrek."  I keep saying his name over and over. 

I cut through his gag last and then drop the dagger to wrap him in a choking hug.  "Derrek.  Derrek."  I'm crying.

"Ravine.  Ravine, is it really you?"  

His voice is raspy and hoarse, but it is his voice.  "Derrek, it's me.  I've been searching for so long Derrek.  So long..."  

The shock finally fades a bit and he hugs me back with more strength than ever before.  "I thought you were dead or Corban's slave," he whispers.  

I shook my head.  "No.  No, I'm not." 

"But you're fixing to be."  

My body tenses as I push away from Derrek and turn.  

Corban is on the outside of the tent looking in with his sword drawn.  He's got a cocky look on his face, similar to when he was leading the raid on our village.  But it's not as sure as before.  

And other things are different too.  I see a long faint scar on his face, which seems older and more mature.  I know that's from my fingernails.  He's thinner.  In general, he seems more... worn.

"It'll be quite a prize to have captured two SwordCleavers instead of one."  His eyes were taunting me.

I shift my weigh back.  My hand is reaching for the dagger I dropped.  My father's dagger.

Corban sees it.  "Come now, Ravine, none of that.  If you come along peacefully, I might just let you see the rest of your family."  

I don't waver, my hand still reaches.  "I have no reason to trust you.  I will go down fighting before I surrender."  

"And we both know how that's going to end."  His eyes narrow.  

I give him the thinnest of smiles.  "Enjoying the new scar on your face, Corban?"

His face contorts with fury, but I don't give him a chance to respond.  My hand is on the dagger now. 

With an unearthly screech I didn't know I possessed, I lunge across the tent floor towards him.  He takes a step back and raises his sword.  If I had been lunging for his upper body, I would have been mortally wounded.  

But I'm not.  I go for his lower legs with a pointed dagger in one hand, using my other to balance and propel myself.

My aim is a bit off and doesn't stab his calf like I'd planned. Instead, it slices through his pant leg and delivers a deep slice.  Another scar from me.  You're welcome, Corban.

A howl erupts from him as I coil my legs back under me and spring again, this time for his waist.  It's clumsy, but I manage to wrap my arms around him and pull him down with me.  

We land in a mess of flailing arms and legs.  Sand spews upward and gets in my mouth again.  Ugh.  

I'm on top of Corban, and I could pin him down.  I could add more scratches to his face.  But I'm experienced now.  I don't need to do that.  

With a grunt I push off, kicking him for good measure.  I must rise before he does.  The sand is even hotter against my palm as I backpedal frantically.  

I grab a handful of it and throw it at him.  Less than half of it actually reaches him, but he has to put his arm up to block it.  And that gives me the moments I need.  

With a mighty heave that threatens to throw me down again, I'm up.  Bound comes free from its sheath.  I set my fighting stance as Corban rises and wipes a hand across his face to remove grains of sand.  

He squints at me, his grip tightening on his sword.  It's the same one that rained blows on me months ago.  The same one that overwhelmed me with the cleverness of its strikes. 

But not today.  Not today.

Corban advanced slowly, but almost as if he was a cat bidding his time to pounce on a mouse.  He handled his blade a little loosely, although not quite carelessly.  

His first strike was a basic one, one that I even in prior times could block easily.  But then he countered with a twist of his blade, intending to catch mine in the hand guard.  Apparently he wanted this engagement over with quickly.  

But I deftly avoided his trap, pushed against his blade, and retreated in a guarded manner.  I used my eyes to throw a challenge across to him.  Try me.   

The scar on his face scrunched as he pondered me.  Finally he was beginning to realize that something was different this time. 

This time his blow as more probing.  I could tell he was planning to counter again when I blocked.  

So, I frustrated his plans.  I went on the offensive and launched a series of slices, making sure that I kept myself well guarded.  Each time he blocked, each time I withdrew before he could counter.  

Finally I ended my flurry and stepped back, watching to see what he would do with this new information.  

"You've improved,"  His voice held a wonder in it, but not an astonished wonder.  

"Go ahead and state the obvious."  I readjusted my grip on Bound. 

He tilted his head to the side, his mind figuring.  

"No.  No, it is more than that," he murmured to himself.

Suddenly he lashed out with another strike.   However, I was ready for it.  How many times had Redwar lulled me into complacency during out duals by talking?  

Too many, I'm ashamed to admit. 

AN:  This chapter probably won't be my best work because I wrote a good chunk of it in between watching the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice with my mother.  Multitasking, people, multitasking.