Gods and Guardians

Chapter 9: Dravan's Letter

This would be their first duel since Damian became a soldier. Damian was annoyingly calm, even somewhat arrogant in his military clothes. Nimrod drew his sword and spread his legs, poised for attack. Damian was erect, not facing Nimrod fully, sword lying placidly in the sheath. Everything was still, except the quiet howling of the wind that rustled little leaflets.

'You are fighting with sword in sheath?'

'Why don't we begin first?'

He was really full of himself. Nimrod decided not to talk anymore.

'Sword touches the ground, you lose,' he reminded Nimrod.

'That was my idea. Guard!' Nimrod warned and brandished his sword.

Damian quickly drew his sword, held it laxly in the right hand and Nimrod leapt forward with a double grip. He twirled the sword and sidestepped easily avoiding Nimrod's sword that arced for his neck. But he could see that Nimrod's neck was completely exposed. He closed in quickly and buried an elbow.

Nimrod stumbled sideward a few steps. But a quick Damian bobbed down, sweeping Nimrod's feet off the ground. Nimrod skipped a heartbeat, but spun around quick enough to land on his knees.

Damian back-stepped a little giving him space.

Nimrod shot to his feet and felt his neck briefly. Damian never ceases to shock him their duels. His long hair was loose now, hanging down his right side. He remembered what Stanley told him. As long as he could attack, he had a chance to win. He decided to use his hair as a weapon.

Damian attacked this time. Their swords met. Nimrod controlled them, winding them out of the centre and simultaneously spinning closer. Nimrod's slapped Damian with his hair, blinding him for a moment. Then he dug an elbow into Damian's side. He tried to clear Damian's legs but missed.

Damian leapt over Nimrod, accomplished a twist and landed face to face in front of Nimrod. Nimrod jumped back impulsively, rising to his feet. But Damian followed with a straight kick that caught Nimrod squarely in the chest. Nimrod could see the sky. It twisted and turned. His back hit the ground, close to the roots of a tree a few metres away. He groaned as he bounced, having surrendered completely to the force of earth.

Time must have sped, or slowed. He saw his sword floating hopelessly, and then it registered that Damian had kicked it out of his hand the moment he landed on the ground. Damian caught it above his face.

Match over. Damian has won yet another duel.

'Are you all right?' Damian asked, kneeling beside him.

Nimrod sat up, looking dazed.

'Are you all right?' Damian reiterated, worried now.

'After a hot massage, maybe,' he squeezed his chest. Then turned to face Damian. 'It was just a duel, not a death fight.'

'Well, sorry. I didn't figure it would be so hard on you.' He offered a hand to pull him up.

'Fool, you never figure anything right. My sword,' Nimrod requested, 'you only won the duel, not the sword.'

'Are you sure you are all right?' Damian handed him the sword.

'I never said I was, you fool.' He resheathed his sword.

Then they saw Stanley, Supreme General Stanley.

'I've been watching.'

Nimrod's eyes rolled.

'General,' Damian saluted, holding his sword across his chest.

'Sleep well, Damian?'

'Yes, sir.'