“That does not seem to cause them much concern,” Michael replied, his gaze intent on the circling combatants.
Aedan shook his head as he watched them engage, blades flashing, then spring apart again. “It is foolhardy to take such risks,” he said.
“What are they trying to prove?”
“Perhaps they are not trying to prove anything,” said Michael without taking his eyes off the match inside the ring. “The intent may simply be to recreate the conditions of real combat as closely as possible.”
“Which increases the possibility of a very real injury,” said Aedan.
Even as he spoke, Sylvanna parried an attacking stroke, deflected a knife blade with her own, pivoted, and brought her sword around in a tight arc, opening a cut on her opponent’s upper arm. He gasped, and Aedan sprang to his feet as he saw the blood flow.
“Well struck!” the male elf said, and bowed to his opponent.
Sylvanna inclined her head toward him, acknowledging the compliment, but displaying no alarm or even any regret over having wounded him.
“Let me help you,” Aedan said. “I have healing ability.”
The elf simply shrugged. “It is of no consequence,” he said. “A minor cut is all it is. It will remind me to keep more on my toes the next time. But I thank you for your offer, just the same.”
Aedan stared at him as he walked away. What sort of people were these elves? The way they had been going at each other with no protection other than steel breastplates, one of them could easily have been seriously wounded, even killed. However, he saw what Sylvanna had meant when she stated without rancor that he had provided her no challenge. He had held back, because she was a girl, but now he saw that Michael had been absolutely right.
He had rated himself too highly and her not highly enough. She was better than he was. Much better.
He watched as another opponent moved into the ring to take her on.
Sylvanna stretched a few times and swung her blade about, then took her stance.
She was about as tall as Aedan, with a typically elvish build-wiry and lean. However, her shoulders were broader than those of most young women Aedan had known, and the muscles of her back gave her a figure that tapered to her narrow waist. Like her brother, Sylvanna had long black hair streaked with silver highlights. She had gathered it in a ponytail for weapons practice, to keep it out of the way.
Elven women were not buxom as human females often tended to be, and Sylvanna was no exception.
She was long limbed and small breasted, but Aedan did not find that unattractive. Sylvanna was not as voluptuous as Laera, but she moved with the smooth litheness of a cat, and Aedan liked the way she bore herself.
He was surprised to find himself suddenly comparing her with Laera.
They were completely unalike in almost every way. Laera was beautiful, while
Sylvanna was merely pretty at best, and took no pains at all to enhance her appearance. Laera was flirtatious and seductive; Sylvanna was unassuming and direct. Laera was soft, with smoldering dark eyes; Sylvanna was lean and muscular, with striking gray eyes so light that they seemed like cut crystal.
But as he found himself comparing the two, Aedan realized Laera was found wanting.
The clang of steel against steel filled the clearing as the two opponents circled each other in the practice ring. The elves who waited their turn at practice, or simply watched, clapped their hands and called out encouragement at well-struck blows. If he hadn’t known better, Aedan might have thought the two were fighting in earnest.
However, as he watched, he realized they took care to aim no cuts or blows at the face or neck, or at the legs. The target areas were the protected chest and the unprotected arms and shoulders, but any cuts aimed at the latter were carefully controlled. The blades were lighter than those used by most humans, and consequently quicker in action. A first cut ended the combat, but it was clearly not the object of the exercise. The idea was simply to penetrate the opponent’s defense. A light hit upon the steel breastplate was counted as a killing stroke and ended the match.
Sylvanna was not the only female who came to practice. Among humans, females did not generally participate in combat. Sometimes tomboys like Ariel played at war while they were young, but as they grew older, they usually followed more ladylike pursuits. Among the elves, things were apparently quite different. The women trained along with the men, and though most of them would have lacked the upper body strength to wield broadswords effectively, they seemed equally adept with the men in the use of the lighter, faster elvish blades.
Sylvanna defeated her second opponent with a touch to his breastplate, and he saluted her in acknowledgment as the next opponent stood up to take his place. Aedan marveled at Sylvanna’s strength and endurance.
A short, unsatisfactory, aborted match with him, then two matches with full-grown male opponents, and she hadn’t even cracked a sweat. She used the blade as if it were a part of her and was clearly commanding of respect among her peers.
“I would not have thought a woman could fight as well as that,” said Michael as he watched her with admiration. “She is at least the equal of the best swordsman in the house guard.”
“Yes, she is very good, indeed,” Aedan agreed, nodding emphatically.
“After watching her, I feel foolish for holding back. On my best day, I would stand no chance against her.”
“The lesson here, I think, is not to underestimate
