block his attack as he would have any other attacker's?
'I don't know,' Kellen said at last.
'Let us see,' Jermayan said. 'Come, you have blocked my attacks often enough to see how it is done. Do to me what I have done to you.'
Easy enough to say. Kellen took a deep breath and put himself into a trance once more, gazing at Jermayan. Only this time, instead of waiting for Jermayan to hit him, he intended to hit Jermayan. Hit him, he told himself.
This time, instead of a blue ghost that moved before Jermayan moved,
Kellen saw Jermayan overlaid with a web of red. One spot burned more brightly than the rest. Without thinking, Kellen struck at it.
Jermayan blocked him, of course, but Kellen had already broken off that attack before he completed it, striking at his next red-flaring target. Once Jermayan was in motion, Kellen was always ahead of him, and no matter how many times he was blocked, he kept moving on to the next target.
Until at last Jermayan's blade was not there to block his. Kellen swung toward the undefended target with all his strength.
Wait! NO!
He could not pull the blow, but at the last moment—barely—he managed to shift the sword, so that the flat, not the edge, hit Jermayan's armor. It struck with a solid 'clang!' like a hammer hitting a muffled bell, taking Jermayan high on the left thigh.
Kellen staggered back, gasping in horrified reaction when he realized what he had nearly done.
He'd been attacking full-out, because that was the way they'd always sparred. And he hadn't expected to hit Jermayan, because he never expected anything when he fought.
But if the strike had gone home edge-first, instead of with the flat…
Elven blades were meant to cut through Elven armor.
He could have hurt Jermayan.
Badly.
Kellen stepped back, the sword falling from his hands to the ground. 'I'm sorry,' he said miserably. 'I didn't think. I could have hurt you.'
'So you could have,' Jermayan said quietly, and though his voice was calm and steady, his face invisible behind the helmet's guard, Kellen had the sense that the Elven Knight was as shaken as he. 'It was my error, Knight-Mage. I will not make it again. And so I think that in future combat, it will be better if we fight with padded blades, lest we do the enemy's work for him.'
'Jermayan—' He felt horrible. 'I didn't mean—I didn't want—'
Jermayan sheathed his sword and pulled off his helm, then managed a wan smile. 'Of course you didn't. Do you think me foolish as a babe unweaned, not to know this? It was my fault, to have urged this upon you without forethought myself, and for my folly I shall have a set of bruises to match yours. And—' he added meaningfully, '— think you. You did turn your blade in time, though in the heat of combat, and with what, barely a scant two days' true training? You acted with discipline and care. And now, that is sufficient for the morning. We should prepare to ride.
There will be another lesson at midday. In which you will learn not to drop your sword when you are surprised.'
THIS time they followed the route that Kellen chose, with a midday stop to rest Valdien and the mule and for Kellen to practice again, both his attack and defense. Before they began, Jermayan made sure that both blades were padded, with a layer of tough wadding made from a spare undertunic over each edge and the point, then well wrapped in a thin layer of leather—and for the first time, he carried his shield. Kellen discovered that Elven shields were meant to be worn high on the arm, so that the Knight could still wield his sword two-handed if he chose.
'At home, there would be practice-sheaths to protect the blades—and our armor—but alas, I did not think to bring them,' Jermayan said. 'It did not occur to me they would be needed.'
'Well, I expect you thought I'd barely figure out how to keep from cutting myself on my own sword,' Kellen offered.
'True enough,' the Elven Knight agreed, to Kellen's chagrin. 'But we shall contrive.'
