The Sword of Wisimir

Chapter 6: Small Victories (Part 1)

Malthus lit a torch and led them along the city wall. Jack wondered briefly where they were going, but decided to keep quiet, as he'd soon find out.

After a few minutes, they moved away from the city and out into the dark. They walked a little way down a slope and through some trees, then stopped.

Jack waved a hand in front of his face. He could hardly see it. "How am I supposed to fight if I can't see?"

In response, some distance away a bright light appeared, illuminating Malthus against the night sky. He was standing next to a stone pedestal that held a large lantern. "This is Ath Trium, the place where city nobles go to beat on each other when they've nothing better to do," he explained and walked over to a second pedestal, lighting that as well. Four lanterns brought a warm glow and revealed a woodland clearing.

"How far from the city are we?"

"Far enough to be outside its laws," Baylen replied. A scraping metallic sound echoed in the night and Jack saw he had drawn his sword. "That means we're answerable to no-one about whether you come back or not."

As Baylen advanced, Jack glanced at Malthus who shook his head. "Y'best get out your blade, Key. We've dragged him out 'ere and he'll kill you if only for the missed sleep."

Jack eased the old sword out of its scabbard. Baylen's weapon was much lighter and he moved with practiced ease. A better duellist than Estorin, Jack guessed.

"Where'd you get that antique?" Baylen asked. "I don't remember seeing you check it in."

"I kept it for him, s'why he didn't tell you anythin' before I came back," Malthus lied quickly before Jack could reply. "And s'why he's no good with the practice staves."

Baylen crept forward, blade extended, but held loose and low, knees bent. Jack imitated his guard position, but felt awkward, so switched left shoulder forward and brought his sword up, level with his chest.

Baylen stalked around, his eyes flicking over him. The Sergeant never joined in with the recruits during drill. Jack guessed he didn't want to intimidate them.

The thin blade flicked towards his face. Instinctively, Jack brushed it aside with his. Again it whipped in, faster, at a lower angle, but again Jack parried, although he wasn't sure how.

"Quicker than anything you did on the practice ground," Baylen said and frowned. Jack said nothing, but gripped his sword hard. He felt strangely light headed, even though they'd only been at it for a minute or two.

Baylen approached again, this time angling towards his left, but Jack could tell it was a feint and held his ground, blocking the lighter blade again as it danced towards him.

"I told you!" Malthus crowed. "What use is that little pin anyway?"

"He hasn't done anything but show me some footwork," Baylen spat in reply and closed again. This time, Jack read the attack easily and noted the Sergeant was favouring his lead foot. He realised he'd seen it before; Baylen limped a touch as he walked, not much, but just enough to betray a weakness.

This time when the sword came towards him, he blocked in an arc, driving it downwards until the point met the ground. The move forced Baylen to keep his weight on his front foot, drawing a small gasp of pain from between his clenched teeth. Jack stepped in as well, ensuring the swords would not disengage, then butted him full in the face.

Baylen's nose broke with a crunch and his legs gave way leaving him sat in the dirt, a stupid expression on his bloodied face. The thin sword clattered on the stones as it fell from his hands.