A knock came from the two massive solid oak doors that blocked everyone from entering Master Gaza’s private workshop. It reverberated through the stone chamber, a hollow kind of noise that one felt more than heard. Gaza sat up from his work bench and glared at the door, as if he could will the person on the other side to burst into flame. He could, of course, being a master wizard, but sometimes, burning other people for no other reason that they knocked at your door was seen as bad manners. He sighed, and waved his hand almost dismissively. The doors swung outwards on their own, creaking as they did so.
“Master Gaza?” came a timid voice.
Gaza sighed again. The voice belonged to Dimon, a skinny young man who always seemed on the verge of falling over from fright. Gaza had agreed to take him on as a student, as the University of White Magic would only agree to give him this workshop if he actually taught someone. Dimon was the first applicant at his door, and thus the first accepted. He was also the only one accepted, as Gaza was not about to teach a whole class.
“What is it, Dimon?” Gaza said, pulling up his glasses and squinting at his quavering apprentice.
“Well, M-master,” the younger man stuttered, “It’s time.. er.. for my… lesson. Master.”
Gaza blinked. Then, he looked at the fairy clock that lay on his desk. It was all crystals and rocks with, but a shadow cast by an invisible sun showed the time. A gift from Titania, from a younger, more passionate, time in his life. Sure enough, his apprentice was correct. Damnation. He was in the middle of some important research. He spared a regretful look at the book he was reading, and sighed again. Then, he picked up his short, thick pipe and rummaged around for his tobacco. After a few seconds of fruitless searching, he snapped his fingers and a small silver box flew across the room into his hand.
“Ah,” he said, stuffing his pipe and lighting it with a small burst of flame on his index finger. After a few long, slow drags, he reclined in his chair and studied young Dimon.
“You were working on an alchemy project, as I recall,” he said.
“Y-yes, Master,” the young man said. “Y-you said to f-find a cure for s-some common a-ailment.”
“And,” Gaza grumbled, “it is due today.”
“Yes, M-master,” Dimon said.
“Well, let’s go see what you have,” Gaza said, and stood, waving the boy towards the alchemy table.
The table was covered in tubes and glass bottles. Small magical flames burned under some, causing the liquid inside to bubble without burning the table it rested on. Boxes of herbs, roots and crystals lay scattered about, and in the small work bench next to it was a little leather covered book, quill and inkwell. The boy had been taking notes as we went along. Gaza nodded. He had taught the lad one thing, it seemed.
Dimon sat at the table and opened the book. Then, he pulled out several small vials and showed them to Gaza.
“T-these,” he said. “uh… these a-are the s-steps I took to r-reach the final product.”
Gaza stared at the vials. He would have to do something to stop the young man from stuttering if he was to continue to be his apprentice. Looking carefully, he saw some unusual looking combinations of herbs in there. He pulled the boy’s book of the table and examined it, then looked back at the vials.
“Those are some interesting mixtures you have there,” Gaza said. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen some of these herbs used together before.”
“N-no, Master,” Dimon said. “I had to d-do a lot of re-research to figure out which ones to use.”
Gaza noted that the more the boy warmed up to his subject, the less he stuttered. It’s possible that Dimon’s fear of him was actually causing the issue.
“Go on,” Gaza said, not wanting to stop this progress.
“W-well, Master,” Dimon said, excitedly pointing to the book. “These notes indicate where I got my research, and these here indicate my initial tests. That’s these two vials here. This last vial is the one that succeeded in my tests. At least, on a dog.”
Gaza looked down again at the vials, specifically the last one. It was some kind of paste, a pale green in color, and had the smell of charcoal and sweet lemon leaf.
“A poultice?” he asked, and Dimon nodded.
“And where does one apply it?” he asked.
“To the scalp, Master,” Dimon said, pointing to his own cap covered head.
“The scalp?” Gaza said. “Exactly what ailment have you cured with a poultice that is placed on the scalp?”
“I think it’s best if you see it in action,” Dimon said. He stood up and started to reach for Gaza’s own long blue hat. “If I may, Master?”
Gaza glared at him, and the young man started to tremble slightly again. He sighed. He really did need to work on that.
“Very well,” he said.
Dimon took the cap of his master’s head and placed it on the table. Then, he grabbed the vial with the poultice in it, put a liberal amount in his hand, and started to rub it into the older man’s bald head. Gaza grimaced at the scrubbing, but after his apprentice was done admitted his head did feel better.
“I am not ill,” Gaza said. “Exactly what am I supposed to be feeling now.”
Dimon did not answer, but instead stared at Gaza’s head. The older man glowered. Apprentice’s should answer right away. What was he looking at anyway?
“Well?” he growled, but still Dimon did not answer.
Gaza had just decided to slap some since into Dimon when the boy’s eyes went wide, and then a smile crossed his face.
“Master, feel your head,” he said.
“What?” Gaza said, but put his hands up to feel his scalp. His own eyes flew wide open when he felt… hair. Actual hair. Not much, maybe a few inches growth, but his entire scalp, wherever the boy had rubbed that tonic, now had hair. Gaza quickly snapped his fingers, and a mirror flew across the room. Looking into it, he saw short, stiff white hair all over his head. He smiled. Then, he laughed.
“My boy,” he said, clasping Dimon on the shoulder. “I have seriously underestimated you. With work such as this, you will one day be a famous wizard.”
“Yes, Master,” Dimon said, his own smile getting bigger.
“Tell me, lad, “Gaza said, still looking into the mirror. “What made you think of baldness as an ailment in need of a cure?”
“Well,” Dimon said, then removed his cap to reveal a shiny scalp underneath.
Gaza laughed even harder.
The End
Showing posts with label Fantasy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fantasy. Show all posts
Friday, May 20, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Flash Fiction Friday: The Hunt, part 2
I don’t normally do a sequel for my flash fiction stories, but Tuesday’s piece really cried out for more. I mean, what would a magical duel between two non-humans look like using a billiard’s game as the battlefield? I had to know. So, I wrote this. Enjoy!
The Hunt, part 2
Jin stared across the table at the hound finished setting up the table. Everything was set. He could feel the magical energy passing from him into his pool stick. He nodded towards the wall, and she pulled a random stick from it, not even bothering to check it. She also infused her with magical energy. She had to pause for a second before doing that, though. It had been a long while since she had a magical duel, dealing with most of her targets through more… direct means lately. The hound, however, was not her target, and she didn’t need him dead. In fact, dead was bad. She needed information. And the billiards game before her was how she was going to get it.
“Straight billiards?” Jin asked, and the hound shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal to him.
It was to her. Straight would be an easier game for the magical duel to take place in. He waved towards the table and moved aside to let her shoot first. She took position, bent over the table and struck the cue ball. She could feel the energy leave her stick and enter the ball. When it caromed off the racked balls, she saw the energy leave the cue ball and fly to the hound. He smiled. It was a light tap, as most breaks were. Now it was his turn.
He shot a few times in a row, hitting multiple balls each time, and each time, it felt like Jin were being punched in the guts. Or in the head, once. But she could take it. She ordered a beer. Alcohol usually helped in these kinds of matches. He frowned at her, but she shook her head. They never discussed rules. Of course, that was difficult with a room full of humans watching. And they were watching. Even this early, there were humans gathering around to watch them play, drawn, though they didn’t know it, by the energy being used.
A few more round went by, and it was hard to say who was winning. Sure, she was winning the game, but the duel was pretty close. If she were honest with herself, she would admit, in fact, that she was losing. He was clearly better at these kinds of things than she was. She needed an advantage. That was when she noticed the crowd.
A few of the men were cheering her on, clearly admiring her slender form. Even some of the women were cheering her on. She had forgotten the affect elves had on humans. It was a very long time since she actively dealt with a non-magical species. She grinned wolfishly. This would be her advantage.
Before he next turn, she unzipped her hoodie and took it off. She quickly moved her hair around and magically put it in place to hide her eyes, but now she was in only jeans and a tank top. The men really took notice of her now. She shrugged her shoulders and moved back to the game. She shot a few normal shots, getting a few scores but not enough to really put him down. Then, she drew on the humans around her.
Elves, like lots of fairy races, feed off human imagination, and lust was an easy way to spark said imagination. She drew on the fantasies that the men around here were having. She used that lust to power her, and when she made her next shot, the balls not only were struck by her cue ball, but they also bounced around the table, hitting other balls as they went. She saw the hound stagger. Sweat sprang up on his fore head. She inhaled, drawing in more energy. She shot and struck more balls, causing more energy to fly to the hound. He actually grunted.
She smiled. The energy was filling her to the brim. She not only felt alive, she felt… randy. The energy from the men was turning her on. A side affect of lust induced imagination, but she wasn’t complaining. She struck again and again, each time causing more and more energy to fly to the hound and strike home. It was euphoric.
She was about to make another shot when the hound put his hand on her arm.
“Enough,” he said. “I give.”
There was an audible groan from the crowd, but she smiled. She released the energy she had stored in her, and it felt like she shrunk two inches. Still, it was easier to focus on where she was when she wasn’t on a high like that.
“Take me to see your boss,” she said.
The hound nodded, thoroughly beaten. She smiled again. Not all the lust had left her yet, and returning to the hunt was a sure way to sate it.
The Hunt, part 2
Jin stared across the table at the hound finished setting up the table. Everything was set. He could feel the magical energy passing from him into his pool stick. He nodded towards the wall, and she pulled a random stick from it, not even bothering to check it. She also infused her with magical energy. She had to pause for a second before doing that, though. It had been a long while since she had a magical duel, dealing with most of her targets through more… direct means lately. The hound, however, was not her target, and she didn’t need him dead. In fact, dead was bad. She needed information. And the billiards game before her was how she was going to get it.
“Straight billiards?” Jin asked, and the hound shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal to him.
It was to her. Straight would be an easier game for the magical duel to take place in. He waved towards the table and moved aside to let her shoot first. She took position, bent over the table and struck the cue ball. She could feel the energy leave her stick and enter the ball. When it caromed off the racked balls, she saw the energy leave the cue ball and fly to the hound. He smiled. It was a light tap, as most breaks were. Now it was his turn.
He shot a few times in a row, hitting multiple balls each time, and each time, it felt like Jin were being punched in the guts. Or in the head, once. But she could take it. She ordered a beer. Alcohol usually helped in these kinds of matches. He frowned at her, but she shook her head. They never discussed rules. Of course, that was difficult with a room full of humans watching. And they were watching. Even this early, there were humans gathering around to watch them play, drawn, though they didn’t know it, by the energy being used.
A few more round went by, and it was hard to say who was winning. Sure, she was winning the game, but the duel was pretty close. If she were honest with herself, she would admit, in fact, that she was losing. He was clearly better at these kinds of things than she was. She needed an advantage. That was when she noticed the crowd.
A few of the men were cheering her on, clearly admiring her slender form. Even some of the women were cheering her on. She had forgotten the affect elves had on humans. It was a very long time since she actively dealt with a non-magical species. She grinned wolfishly. This would be her advantage.
Before he next turn, she unzipped her hoodie and took it off. She quickly moved her hair around and magically put it in place to hide her eyes, but now she was in only jeans and a tank top. The men really took notice of her now. She shrugged her shoulders and moved back to the game. She shot a few normal shots, getting a few scores but not enough to really put him down. Then, she drew on the humans around her.
Elves, like lots of fairy races, feed off human imagination, and lust was an easy way to spark said imagination. She drew on the fantasies that the men around here were having. She used that lust to power her, and when she made her next shot, the balls not only were struck by her cue ball, but they also bounced around the table, hitting other balls as they went. She saw the hound stagger. Sweat sprang up on his fore head. She inhaled, drawing in more energy. She shot and struck more balls, causing more energy to fly to the hound. He actually grunted.
She smiled. The energy was filling her to the brim. She not only felt alive, she felt… randy. The energy from the men was turning her on. A side affect of lust induced imagination, but she wasn’t complaining. She struck again and again, each time causing more and more energy to fly to the hound and strike home. It was euphoric.
She was about to make another shot when the hound put his hand on her arm.
“Enough,” he said. “I give.”
There was an audible groan from the crowd, but she smiled. She released the energy she had stored in her, and it felt like she shrunk two inches. Still, it was easier to focus on where she was when she wasn’t on a high like that.
“Take me to see your boss,” she said.
The hound nodded, thoroughly beaten. She smiled again. Not all the lust had left her yet, and returning to the hunt was a sure way to sate it.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: The Hunt
So, once again, I am posting my entry into the 5MinuteFiction contest, this week hosted by R.B. Wood on his blog. The prompt today was Pub, and this is what I came up with. Enjoy!
****
The Hunt
The sounds and smells of the pub wafted on the breeze to Jin’s ears and nose. People chatting and laughing, corned beef and bitter, and a slight undercurrent of tension. It made her sigh. She hated going into public places like this to get her job done. These were just folk, trying to unwind after a day’s hard work. The clacking of billiards struck her next. She paused. That might make a good cover. She nodded, and concentrated.
She checked herself in the reflection of the darkened window. The disguise spell wasn’t perfect, but it hid her sharp elf ears enough. She never did understand the human fascination with denim. It was nowhere near as comfortable as soft leather, she though. Still, it did allow her to fit in, and the human males always liked to see her in it. She nodded again, then entered the pub.
The few patrons by the door stopped their conversations briefly to look at her, then quickly returned to them. Just another thirsty worker on her way home. She headed to the bar to order a pint, then acted surprised as she saw the billiards table. She took a subtle breath in, and could smell what she was looking for in here, but couldn’t see it anywhere. Hopefully, the overwhelming smells of the place that prevented her from getting a good read would disguise her as well.
She took her pint, headed over to the table, and threw a twenty pound note into the middle of it, causing the two men playing to stop and look up at her.
“Can a lady join in?” she asked.
For a brief second, one of the men’s eye’s flashed a deep purple, then returned to the blue they were before. He smiled at her, his canine teeth prominent and glinting. A hound. Her target was here, and this man was it’s bodyguard. And no doubt he now had her sent and knew who she was.
“Of course,” the hound said, pushing the human he had been playing with aside.
He started to rack the balls. This game was going to be interesting, she thought.
****
The Hunt
The sounds and smells of the pub wafted on the breeze to Jin’s ears and nose. People chatting and laughing, corned beef and bitter, and a slight undercurrent of tension. It made her sigh. She hated going into public places like this to get her job done. These were just folk, trying to unwind after a day’s hard work. The clacking of billiards struck her next. She paused. That might make a good cover. She nodded, and concentrated.
She checked herself in the reflection of the darkened window. The disguise spell wasn’t perfect, but it hid her sharp elf ears enough. She never did understand the human fascination with denim. It was nowhere near as comfortable as soft leather, she though. Still, it did allow her to fit in, and the human males always liked to see her in it. She nodded again, then entered the pub.
The few patrons by the door stopped their conversations briefly to look at her, then quickly returned to them. Just another thirsty worker on her way home. She headed to the bar to order a pint, then acted surprised as she saw the billiards table. She took a subtle breath in, and could smell what she was looking for in here, but couldn’t see it anywhere. Hopefully, the overwhelming smells of the place that prevented her from getting a good read would disguise her as well.
She took her pint, headed over to the table, and threw a twenty pound note into the middle of it, causing the two men playing to stop and look up at her.
“Can a lady join in?” she asked.
For a brief second, one of the men’s eye’s flashed a deep purple, then returned to the blue they were before. He smiled at her, his canine teeth prominent and glinting. A hound. Her target was here, and this man was it’s bodyguard. And no doubt he now had her sent and knew who she was.
“Of course,” the hound said, pushing the human he had been playing with aside.
He started to rack the balls. This game was going to be interesting, she thought.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Tiny Tales Tuesday: A Gnome named Man
So, while trying to come up with a name for a villain in my WIP, I ran across a fantasy name generator. I showed it to a twitter friend, who discovered that one of the names it comes up with for Gnomes was Man, and thought that was funny. I thought it would make a good story, the adventures of a Gnome named Man. So, here's my take on that idea.
****
A Gnome named Man
Before you ask, yes, I am a Gnome. No, not a lawn gnome, those are little figurines that were made by humans with no clue as to how culturally insensitive they were being. No, real Gnomes (with a capital G) are fairies; earth spirits who travel underground collecting gems. It’s difficult to explain beyond that.
Now that that stuff is out of the way, let me introduce myself. My name is Man.
Yes, Man. Go ahead and laugh. I’ll wait.
Back? Good. See, my parents thought they were being funny. In the ancient tongue, not really spoken by Gnomes anymore, Man means hero. If they had known how much trouble that name would get me into… on second though, they would still have named me that. My ten brothers and nine sisters were named similarly. My parents are just masochistic like that.
So, why am I telling you all this? Well, I just saved the human race, and I figured I disserved a little credit for it.
What? You didn’t even know you were in danger? Typical humans, you are so unaware of what is really going on in your world. Here, I’ll just sum it all up for you.
About a thousand years ago, an elf wizard messed around with things that mortals were not meant to know, and went insane. He came to believe that some kind of dragon was trapped in the middle of the Earth, and wanted to destroy the world to free it. Thankfully, a group of elven, dwarven and gnome heroes stopped him. They locked him up in this magical tree, there to stay for all time.
If you really must know, it’s a tree in Kansas, that ended up being in someone’s backyard, and had a tree house built in it.
So, anyway, about a year ago, the humans that lived in this house decided to cut down the tree, and, as you can guess, freed him. Sadly, the heroes that defeated him last time were all dead now (we’re not as long lived as you’re stories would have everyone believe. I blame Tolkien myself). I got involved because the people in that house were my family.
No, my human family.
Look, stop interrupting. It’s not my fault you know nothing about Gnomes. See, in adition to collecting gems, we also like to adopt certain human familys that we see as worthy, and gift them with good luck. Turns out, I’m not very good at that. Or maybe, I just picked the wrong family. Whatever, they released this bad guy into the world.
I didn’t notice at first, I was just doing my usually rounds, wandering by the humans invisible and granting luck to them. The boy gets luck for his math test, the girl gets luck with that boy she likes, mom gets luck in getting that job she really wants. Dad gets luck with mom when she comes home that night. That sort of thing.
I’m passing by the boy, who was playing with the tree stump, when I see the evil elf’s head popping out of it. I didn’t recognize it for what it really was at first, I was just freaked out. So, I zapped it. Turns out, he was still partially trapped, and I killed him in the first go. That was when I noticed who it was.
So, there you have it. The story of how a Gnome named Man lived up to his name and saved the world. Now, say thanks so I can go back to my family. Dad needs some extra luck tonight.
The End.
****
A Gnome named Man
Before you ask, yes, I am a Gnome. No, not a lawn gnome, those are little figurines that were made by humans with no clue as to how culturally insensitive they were being. No, real Gnomes (with a capital G) are fairies; earth spirits who travel underground collecting gems. It’s difficult to explain beyond that.
Now that that stuff is out of the way, let me introduce myself. My name is Man.
Yes, Man. Go ahead and laugh. I’ll wait.
Back? Good. See, my parents thought they were being funny. In the ancient tongue, not really spoken by Gnomes anymore, Man means hero. If they had known how much trouble that name would get me into… on second though, they would still have named me that. My ten brothers and nine sisters were named similarly. My parents are just masochistic like that.
So, why am I telling you all this? Well, I just saved the human race, and I figured I disserved a little credit for it.
What? You didn’t even know you were in danger? Typical humans, you are so unaware of what is really going on in your world. Here, I’ll just sum it all up for you.
About a thousand years ago, an elf wizard messed around with things that mortals were not meant to know, and went insane. He came to believe that some kind of dragon was trapped in the middle of the Earth, and wanted to destroy the world to free it. Thankfully, a group of elven, dwarven and gnome heroes stopped him. They locked him up in this magical tree, there to stay for all time.
If you really must know, it’s a tree in Kansas, that ended up being in someone’s backyard, and had a tree house built in it.
So, anyway, about a year ago, the humans that lived in this house decided to cut down the tree, and, as you can guess, freed him. Sadly, the heroes that defeated him last time were all dead now (we’re not as long lived as you’re stories would have everyone believe. I blame Tolkien myself). I got involved because the people in that house were my family.
No, my human family.
Look, stop interrupting. It’s not my fault you know nothing about Gnomes. See, in adition to collecting gems, we also like to adopt certain human familys that we see as worthy, and gift them with good luck. Turns out, I’m not very good at that. Or maybe, I just picked the wrong family. Whatever, they released this bad guy into the world.
I didn’t notice at first, I was just doing my usually rounds, wandering by the humans invisible and granting luck to them. The boy gets luck for his math test, the girl gets luck with that boy she likes, mom gets luck in getting that job she really wants. Dad gets luck with mom when she comes home that night. That sort of thing.
I’m passing by the boy, who was playing with the tree stump, when I see the evil elf’s head popping out of it. I didn’t recognize it for what it really was at first, I was just freaked out. So, I zapped it. Turns out, he was still partially trapped, and I killed him in the first go. That was when I noticed who it was.
So, there you have it. The story of how a Gnome named Man lived up to his name and saved the world. Now, say thanks so I can go back to my family. Dad needs some extra luck tonight.
The End.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Flash Fiction Friday: The Games
Bryn rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck in preparation. The boy across the room, for boy he was despite his massive frame, at not more than sixteen summers, scowled at him and raised his blade. It was wicked, curved and serrated, but the boy held it in an unsure grip that said to Bryn he had little, if any, experience with it. And more importantly, he had seen a glint of fear in the boy’s eyes. Bryn smiled. This fight was already won.
He tossed the ball in his left hand up once and caught it, never taking his eyes off the boy. Try as he might, Bryn’s opponent could not take stop from flicking his eyes towards the movement. That was all Bryn needed. He threw the ball across the room, and the boy raised his arm up to deflect it automatically. Bryn scowled as he crossed the room in three long strides. This boy was not only young, but stupid as well. That was a rookie mistake, the kind that got men killed in the games. That ball was made of stiffened pigs batter, like the kind used in children’s game. It wouldn’t hurt someone in armor, like the two of them were. It almost disgusted him how easy a kill this kid would be. Almost.
He had his own sword, a stout broad sword held in both hands now that they were both free, swung down, but the boy surprised Bryn, being quicker than his muscular arms would suggest. His curved blade was up instantly, blocking Bryn’s blow. The two stood there for a moment, pushing their blades against each other, and Bryn could see himself in the shine of the other blade, his scarred bald head and broken nose above a sneer that would cause the most hardened veteran of war to question attacking him.
Then the boy surprised Bryn again. He stepped back a pace, dropping his blade as he did so, causing Bryn to step forward off balance. Before the boy’s blade could complete a swing, however, Bryn continued to fall forward, rolling on the floor several steps away from the other man. He stopped considering him a boy. He may be inexperienced, but this man knew how to fight. Bryn smiled again. This might be a challenge.
He stood in time to block a charge from the other man, swinging his left arm around and punching him in his unprotected left side. The other man steped back a step, but kept his guard up. Not well enough, though. Bryn slammed his massive blade into the curved one, again and again, pushing the other man back until, at last, he slumped against the wall, and Bryn got a good slash against the man’s sword arm. He dropped his blade, and a look of surprise and fear crossed his face before steeling in determination to see his fate through.
Bryn smiled again. This time, it was in satisfaction. He dropped his own blade and grabbed up the other man in a rough bear hug that caused the younger man to exhale in surprise.
“Well don, son!” Bryn said. “Well done. We’ll have you trained up for the games within the month, you’ll see.”
“Thank you father,” The young man said, and he smiled at Bryn. It was almost as terrifying as Bryn’s was, including a few missing teeth from brawls he had been in. Almost. Once combat training was done, Bryn thought, he would have to teach the boy about intimidation.
He tossed the ball in his left hand up once and caught it, never taking his eyes off the boy. Try as he might, Bryn’s opponent could not take stop from flicking his eyes towards the movement. That was all Bryn needed. He threw the ball across the room, and the boy raised his arm up to deflect it automatically. Bryn scowled as he crossed the room in three long strides. This boy was not only young, but stupid as well. That was a rookie mistake, the kind that got men killed in the games. That ball was made of stiffened pigs batter, like the kind used in children’s game. It wouldn’t hurt someone in armor, like the two of them were. It almost disgusted him how easy a kill this kid would be. Almost.
He had his own sword, a stout broad sword held in both hands now that they were both free, swung down, but the boy surprised Bryn, being quicker than his muscular arms would suggest. His curved blade was up instantly, blocking Bryn’s blow. The two stood there for a moment, pushing their blades against each other, and Bryn could see himself in the shine of the other blade, his scarred bald head and broken nose above a sneer that would cause the most hardened veteran of war to question attacking him.
Then the boy surprised Bryn again. He stepped back a pace, dropping his blade as he did so, causing Bryn to step forward off balance. Before the boy’s blade could complete a swing, however, Bryn continued to fall forward, rolling on the floor several steps away from the other man. He stopped considering him a boy. He may be inexperienced, but this man knew how to fight. Bryn smiled again. This might be a challenge.
He stood in time to block a charge from the other man, swinging his left arm around and punching him in his unprotected left side. The other man steped back a step, but kept his guard up. Not well enough, though. Bryn slammed his massive blade into the curved one, again and again, pushing the other man back until, at last, he slumped against the wall, and Bryn got a good slash against the man’s sword arm. He dropped his blade, and a look of surprise and fear crossed his face before steeling in determination to see his fate through.
Bryn smiled again. This time, it was in satisfaction. He dropped his own blade and grabbed up the other man in a rough bear hug that caused the younger man to exhale in surprise.
“Well don, son!” Bryn said. “Well done. We’ll have you trained up for the games within the month, you’ll see.”
“Thank you father,” The young man said, and he smiled at Bryn. It was almost as terrifying as Bryn’s was, including a few missing teeth from brawls he had been in. Almost. Once combat training was done, Bryn thought, he would have to teach the boy about intimidation.
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