His arms ached with every motion. He'd trained for it. Adapt his movements, focus on moving the hips and torsos, use your arms only for guidance.
His sword swung wildly towards the right. It was an unpredictable, deftly fast blow. To anyone else, it would be a clean kill. He almost instinctively prepared the customary honours: a raised sword for salute and a somber "well fought."
The warrior he faced was not so easily cowed. He parried with minimal effort, following with an immediate riposte.
So it continues. . .
YOU ARE READING
The Duel
Historical FictionA fateful meeting between former comrades. The same side of opposing coins. A brisk tale of introspection, narrated through violent action. Short story, totaling ~3000 words.
