The weapons clashed together again and again, their movements almost too fast to follow. They traced silver lines through the air as they moved through their intricate patterns; strike, parry, block, strike. One of the silver blurs slipped silently past the other, and the sound of metal hitting soft flesh replaced the constant clang. Lying on his back, looking up at the tops of the pine trees swaying in the wind, Estarfin struggled to catch his breath. The blow had caught him in the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs and leaving another bright line of pain across his skin.
"That is six to three Estarfin. Get up. If you are not too tired..."
A flash of annoyance ran through Estarfin as Nirhen added those final words, but he bit back a retort and pulled himself into a sitting position. Slowing his breath, he pulled his dark hair out of his face and wiped the sweat from his brow. Seeing his sword lying on the damp grass, he reached over, picking it up whilst bringing himself to his feet. Nirhen was watching him, taking the opportunity to have a mouthful of water and catch her own breath. She held her own sword at her side, the blunted blade reflecting the dying light of the Sun. Grinning at Estarfin; she brought the bastard sword to a ready position, throwing him a mocking bow as she did so. Controlling his temper, Estarfin mirrored the movement of her sword and bowed deeply. Hearing the sound of her sword hissing through the air as he bowed, he twisted, bringing his own sword up sharply and feeling it connect with her midsection as her own sword passed harmlessly to his side.
“Six to four Nirhen” he corrected her, failing to supress a grin as he did.
Sweeping his eyes from Nirhen lying prone on the grass to the pile of training weapons, he thought quickly. She had bested him with the dagger and shield, whilst he had emerged triumphant from the contest of the staff. The sword would decide the victor of their training session. Estarfin had the reach advantage, and greater weight and strength, but Nirhen was faster and much more agile. Dressed in their padded vests, soaked through with sweat from their constant sparring, covered in cuts and bruises, the two warriors looked a world apart from their usual pristine appearance. There was a savage look to both of their faces, all friendship forgotten in their quest to best the other. Picking herself up from the wet ground, Nirhen shrugged off the padded top, revealing her alabaster skin covered in livid bruises and small cuts. Standing in front of him, she appeared smaller, less threatening. Thrusting his sword point into the ground, Estarfin pulled off his padded training vest as well, marvelling at the sensation of the cool evening breeze on his skin. Stretching his arms behind him once, Estarfin pulled the sword from the ground and strode forward.
With gritted teeth, Estarfin swung the blade hard, but the sword passed harmlessly through the air as Nirhen darted out of the way once again. Letting out a snarl, he stepped forward, swinging the blade through the air again. He pressed forward, forcing Nirhen back a step at a time, her sword returning to the guard position a little slower every time. With a great overhead smash, Estarfin’s sword hit Nirhen’s, but she was ill-positioned and was thrown to the ground by the force of the blow.
“Six…..five” panted Estarfin, his hand on his knee as he tried to catch his breath.
Nirhen sat up, blood flowing from a gash just above her hairline. Frowning at the blood, Estarfin reached a hand out to help her up, but Nirhen slapped it away angrily.
“Last point Estarfin. Ready yourself.” The contests had been set to twelve points, and this was his last chance to draw level. She stood up slowly, wiping blood from her face with the back of her hand. Raising an eyebrow at the pronouncement, he held his sword aloft, readying himself for the last battle. Nirhen surged forward, throwing the last of her energy into the furious assault. Surprised, Estarfin was almost overwhelmed, but managed to keep his footing and step back. Parrying and blocking the increasingly desperate swings, he suddenly took a step forward, catching her slender wrist in his grip, forcing the sword sideways, until with an almost silent gasp of pain Nirhen dropped the sword. The smile of victory was wiped from his face as Nirhen cracked her bleeding forehead into his nose. Eyes streaming, he took a hasty step back, tripping and falling backwards. He had not released his grip on Nirhen, and as much as she resisted, she too was dragged down, landing heavily on top of him. The breath was driven from his lungs as she landed awkwardly on top of him, his vision suddenly full of her bloody face and dark hair. There was a moment of hesitation, and then Nirhen scrambled off of him. Seizing the brief opportunity, Nirhen snatched up her sword again. Shaking his head to clear his vision, Estarfin stood and brought his sword to the ready position once again.
As the last rays of the Sun faded, the two warriors faced each other. Both were exhausted; tested beyond their limits by the vicious sparring. Blood flowed freely from the nose and mouth of Estarfin, and Nirhen's face was covered in drying blood from the wound to her scalp. With leaden arms, the warriors of Hammer held their swords, waiting for the other to make the opening move. Estarfin lunged forward, swinging his sword in an upward arc. Nirhen sidestepped it, bringing her own sword round level with his temple. Turning the sword as it swung, Estarfin blocked the blow, pushing the blade away and launching his own strike at Nirhen's head. Using the guard of the sword, she caught the blow and used the momentum to push herself away, opening the gap between them again. Realising a way to end it, Estarfin thrust his sword straight at her breast. She parried it as expected, but he pressed on, and began to slide the blade around hers. In response, Nirhen gritted her teeth, spinning her own blade. The two swords were locked together, circling each other with the sound of grinding metal. Estarfin growled and began to spin his blade faster, his forearm beginning to burn with the effort. Nirhen had no choice but to match the speed, and it was clear to both of them that this was it, the pivotal moment of the fight. Sparks flew from the blades, and the combatants stared into each other's eyes. With a cry of triumph, Estarfin flicked his sword, sending the blade of Nirhen spinning from her hand. His blade was almost instantly at her neck.
"Yield" he said, staring into her angry eyes.
She tried to take a step back, but he followed her, the sword still pressed tight against her neck.
"Yield" he repeated, increasing the pressure on her throat gradually.
Finally, with a look of anger and resentment on her face, she nodded. Letting his sword fall to his side, he let out a deep breath. "Six all. Then it is a draw." They gathered up the training weapons and their padded jackets, carrying them back to the Vanimar armoury in silence. Night had fallen, and the light of the stars was shining upon them as they walked back in exhausted silence.
