Bandits

Chapter 11: Andromeda

The room was large. The whole of the rear wall was a window with intricate iron lattices dividing the panes. A large chestnut desk sat in front of the windows. The chair behind the desk was fallen on its side as if someone had gotten up in a hurry. Gideon raised his sword and looked around the room. A four-poster bed was a mess. Pillows had fallen to the floor and the blankets lay in a crumpled heap. A glass vase from the end table was shattered on the carpet. Curtains on the other side of the room partially hid two bunks and a sitting area. Gideon inched farther into the room. The only light was the muted grays and blues from the stormy sky outside.

The door behind Gideon slammed shut. Gideon spun around. A figure stood next to the door, crouched in a dueling stance. Shadows shrouded his features but what light there was glinted off a steel blade. A long slender sword with a masterfully ornate hilt was in his hand.

"Drop your sword," the figure said. "Now!"

Gideon lowered his sword slightly, but still grasped it firmly in hand. He watched the man. The figure made no move to attack. Gideon could see his opponent's muscles tense. The figure motioned at Gideon's sword with his own.

"I said drop it!" His voice was youthful. It shook slightly, as if the speaker wasn't quite sure what to do. Gideon raised his sword, watching for the young man's reaction.

"Did you hear me?" he shouted. "I'll kill you if I have to."

Gideon set his feet. He stuck his hand out behind him for balance and lifted his sword. The man lunged at Gideon with alarming speed. His blade was a blur of steel, flashing out at Gideon. Gideon desperately parried and blocked. The man pressed his advantage slashing and stabbing with lightning speed. His blade nicked Gideon's wrist.

He cried out in pain, blood already pooling and trickling down his fingers. The man lunged again, slicing at Gideon's chest. Gideon whipped his sword to block the deadly strike. The sword glanced off Gideon's blade and sliced into his thigh.

Gideon staggered back. He grabbed his wounded leg. The gash wasn't deep, but it sent searing pain shooting through him. The figure was already approaching again. Gideon hopelessly swung his sword. The man casually batted it aside.

His form was impeccable. The man fought with grace and elegance. Every move was calculated. His movements were fluid and left him completely unexposed. Even without his wounds, Gideon would be entirely outmatched. Gideon realized his only hope was to ignore form and fight unorthodox.

The man stood over Gideon. He raised his sword for the killing stroke. Just as his blade was about to fall, Gideon swung his legs at the man's. The man's feet flew out from under him, and he crashed to the floor. His sword fell from his grip, landing just out of his reach.

Gideon was on him in a flash. Adrenaline coursed through him, momentarily stealing the pain away. The man tried to regain his feet. Gideon forced the man to the floor, holding his sword to his throat.

The steel gleamed, silvery in the dark room. Gideon slowly pressed the blade harder against the man's neck until he could feel resistance from the skin and muscles. Gideon looked into his victim's face. His eyes glistened, straining to see the sword's blade. No fear showed behind his eyes. The man looked away from the blade at his throat, locking eyes with Gideon.

His stare was forceful, nearly overpowering . Gideon could do nothing but look straight back into those fearless, unblinking eyes. He could feel sweat welling up beneath his forehead, threatening to leak through onto his skin. Gideon couldn't breathe. The man just watched him. His lungs refused to cooperate as if they too were frozen by the stranger's piercing stare. Gideon eased his weight off the sword, unable to harden himself enough to finish the stranger. He lifted the blade from the man's neck and leaned back, finally able to breathe again.