Away with the Faeries

Chapter Five

The blades of the swords had been significantly dulled over years of harsh use. In the event one of us did land a hit, the damage would be minimal.

"Are you ready," Marcel asked, blade still resting easily against his shoulder.

Steadying my gaze to his own, my eyes trailed over to where he donned an old scar across his brow. Silently I wondered if he received it at the end of a blade similar to one of these. Nodding, I shifted into a proper stance. Angling my back foot, leaving the other forward; I bent my legs slightly, ready to move in an instant. Keeping the sword out in front of myself quickly grew into a challenge as it was much heavier than a sabre. But I'll be damned if I lost because of my scrawny arms.

Curiously he eyed my stance, a brow raising slightly on his face. He stood relaxed, facing me with his sword now dropped lightly to his side. This was going to be easy.

"Are you ready," I echoed the question back.

When he nodded I wasted no time in leaping forward, slashing the iron weapon to the side. With a reverberating clink that sent a jolt up my arm, our swords collided. Marcel moved faster and with more grace than I'd ever seen anybody move in my life. If I blinked I would've missed it completely. He waited until my blade was inches from his side before easily lifting his own sword and blocking the blow.

With a huff, I quickly retreated. If I wanted to win this I had my work cut out for me. A slight smirk fought at my lips; it was looking like I had my work cut out for me. Making the same move, I was closely aware and watched intently at how Marcel blocked the blow. In an instant he shifted, widening his stance and throwing all his weight to his back foot. Dark velvet shimmered as his muscled arms snaked out from under his thick cloak, lazily he met the flat of his blade with my own.

Not a muscle ticked on his face, he had the audacity to look bored. Retreating once more, my brow furrowed as I mentally burned the plan I had composed in my head. Marcel fiddled with his sword before me, aimlessly slashing at nearby flora with the tip. He was competent with a sword, so what? I was also capable of wielding a blade, technically a sabre but it was close enough. If you asked my nieces I was also very capable at wielding pool noodles and faery wands, I'd bet you Mr. Big And Brooding couldn't do that.

"What are you waiting for," I called out, Marcel glanced up from the strange wispy-looking flower he'd just decapitated, "Make your move." It was a taunt, a dare, an invite.

An amused gleam flashed through his amber eyes; "Trust me, love," he said his tone serious, "You would much rather I be the one defending."

A chill seized my spine at his words. I couldn't land a blow if he was playing defense but the way he easily moved as if he was born with a sword in hand told me that offense was my safest option. I needed to find his weak spot. Everyone had one; I would exploit it and use it to my advantage. Adrenaline danced through my veins; the taste of victory practically covered my tongue. But my opponent was clever and capable and it would be a mistake to underestimate him.

As the thought flooded my mind I watched Marcel distractedly toy with petals that bloomed gracefully off a low-hanging branch of the tree we stood under. Clever, I could've laughed. Taking advantage of his distracted state I bounded forward, raising my sword high before slashing it down in an angled motion. Marcel nonchalantly lifted his own just in time to block the rough metal from making contact with his shoulder. His eyes never moving from the strange flora.

"What is a University," he questioned as he pushed with a gentle force on his blade, sending me stumbling.

University? Where the hell did this come from?

"You mentioned it earlier," he continued, "In fact, you mentioned many strange words earlier."

Jutting forwards again, I swung my blade low aiming for his stomach. I threw my weight into the swing, our bodies shifting together as Marcel blocked the hit.

"University," I grunted as he pushed his blade, sending me stumbling; "Is a big fancy school for really smart people who love being in debt."

The corner of his lips tilted; "If you consider yourself so smart Dame de la forêt, then I am sure you must have figured out by now that you are not going to best me in this fight."

Excuse me? A dry laugh escaped my lips. It was one thing to poke an open wound by calling me a lady. But now we were breaching entirely new waters by questioning what I was capable of. He was so dead. Heat flooded my body; rage trickling down into my fingertips, shaking my hands. Snow crunched underfoot as Marcel stumbled away from me.

"Rayne," he asked carefully. Voice steady, eyes held fast to my own.

Slowly I sauntered up to him, as a predator to their prey. Only I'm not sure I knew which of us was which.

"Dame de la forêt," he asked once more, the words only adding fuel to the fire.

In a solid motion, I swung my blade low, as Marcel went to block I changed my plan. Whipping the sword back up and swinging high. I threw my weight into the swerve of the motion, I was aiming for the crown of his head but was confident he would block. As my blade neared the fine velvet of his hood that's when I saw it, his weak spot, an opening. Going to block my blow Marcel's left shoulder had strained. A smirk drew at my lips at the discovery, my mind so preoccupied that I hadn't noticed how close my face was to Marcels.

He held his sword in both hands above his head, easily holding back the weight of my own weapon atop his. I shifted, throwing more pressure onto the left side of his blade. Marcel grunted the muscles in his jaw tensing, his brow furrowing. I couldn't help the grin that wiped my face. His left shoulder was injured, this only proved my discovery. I finally had an opening.

"What are you smiling about," he muttered through clenched teeth.

Marcel's deep eyes bore into my own, his tanned skin seemed darker from beneath the heavy velvet cloak draped around him. I could see the scare more visibly now, the jagged look of torn flesh ran in a deep cut across his brow. I desperately wanted to know how he got it. Marcel's long dark hair fell messily across his sculpted face. I could feel his breath tickle my cheek, his body heat radiating upon me. My arms began to ache from the straining position.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I said, flashing a wink.

Pushing off from Marcel's blade I spun, swinging my blade with a gentle force to his left shoulder. My arms shook as the blade made contact with his large shoulder. Marcel's body tensed, an unearthly rumble sounded in his chest as his free hand shot to the blade. His fingers curled around the dulled sword, where it had landed painfully on his shoulder. Ripping the weapon from my hand with an unruly strength, Marcel flung the blade into the woods beyond.

A burning sensation filled my now raw hands where Marcel had forced the sword from my grip. Mouth agape I slowly moved from Marcel who took heavy breaths before me.

"Sweet Seven Kingdoms," he cursed, rubbing his shoulder with a tender touch. Leaves rustled as his blade slipped from his hand, falling to the ground. After a moment his breathing steadied, Marcel bent picking up his blade then continued into the forest to find where he had lost the other one. "I'm impressed, dame de la forêt. No one has landed a hit on me since I was a child." His voice was filled with amusement but as he spoke there was a subtle, underlining tone of something bitter.

As Marcel came back he handed me the blade by the hilt, a smirk on his lips; "We'll make a warrior out of you yet."

Accepting the sword with a smile I had no idea then just how true those words would soon be.