Garenes hesitated, then tossed his helmet to Knet and stripped off his padded jerkin. “I don’t want anyone complaining that it wasn’t an even fight,” he said, smiling thinly. “Especially when you lose.”
“You are ready, then?”
Sebast nodded, raising his blade.
“Begin,” Relam said.
Predictably, Sebast attacked first. The lordling wanted to assert his dominance, and the best way to do that was to win the fight quickly and decisively. He came after Relam using the practice patterns Tar had taught them all as cadets. It was a precise, powerful attack but not a particularly skilled one. Relam could see, thanks to his time with Oreius, that Sebast’s timing was slightly off and that his blows were not achieving maximum effect. Relam parried calmly, standing his ground, not retreating so much as an inch.
Sebast continued to attack and continued to fail, foiled at every turn by Relam’s blade, deflecting his thrusts, parrying his cuts, blocking his overhead strikes. Finally, Sebast locked his blade with Relam’s and they shoved back and forth, each trying to gain the upper hand. Sebast, realizing that he was not making up any ground, disengaged eventually and backed away.
Relam held his sword loosely in one hand, watching Sebast. So far, there hadn’t been anything he couldn’t handle. But there was a chance, albeit a slim one, that Sebast could get lucky. Relam needed to go on the offensive to make sure that didn’t happen. The prince advanced slowly, holding his sword point down and slightly out to the side.
Sebast raised his own practice blade and shuffled his feet uncertainly, faltering before Relam’s implacable stare. The prince continued to move forward at the same pace, perfectly calm and at ease with the situation. Sebast meanwhile was clenching his sword in both hands and his eyes were darting everywhere, waiting for an attack.
As he drew within striking distance, Relam lashed out with a thrust. Sebast deflected it, then ducked as Relam’s sword whistled through the space where his head had been. He parried an overhead cut next, then clumsily blocked another cut.
All the while Relam kept up his unwavering stare and outward calm. He and Sebast circled for a moment, trading places. Then, Relam attacked again, using the patterns that Tar had taught him. But he did them at Oreius’ speed.
The prince lunged forward, thrusting and hacking, his blade there one moment and gone the next, too quickly for the eye to follow. Sebast tried to parry, but rarely made contact with the wooden practice sword. Relam pulled all of the blows though, just as he would if he were doing the patterns as part of a drill. The practice sword came close to striking Sebast, but not too close. And it was always moving, appearing and disappearing, striking and withdrawing, a brown blur that came from everywhere and nowhere. Sebast looked around wildly, trying to understand what was happening. Relam did not look around but kept his eyes calmly fixed on Sebast.
Finally, the prince decided it was time to end the fight. He executed the tenth pattern at top speed, then lunged forward, sliding his blade along Sebast’s until it struck the hilt. Then, he twisted his practice sword and ripped Sebast’s from his grip. The lordling looked up stunned as his practice sword spun through the air, landing in Relam’s outstretched left hand.
For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, pandemonium broke out as the cadets burst into applause and cheers, chattering to each other excitedly. The other lordlings did not react so exuberantly. Knet and Delan were wide-eyed, silent observers, and even Cevet looked a little taken aback by the speed and skill Relam had displayed. But Relam watched Sebast. The young Garenes was breathing heavily, but in his eyes Relam saw shock and disappointment. Then, the other boy’s shoulders slumped.
Relam set the two practice swords aside and extended his hand. Sebast hesitated, eying it, then shook decisively, grimacing and closing his eyes as though it pained him. Then, shaking his head, the lordling scooped up his practice gear and stepped out of the spotlight to lick his wounds.
Relam turned and found the other lordlings practically on top of him. “We move forward today,” he announced, shaking hands with each of them. “As friends. And allies.”
Knet and Delan nodded, bowing slightly. Cevet inclined his head gravely, then grinned, unable to contain his exuberance. Jatt nodded ponderously, and enveloped Relam’s hand in a crushing grip. The prince had to check and make sure all of his fingers were still intact when he finally extricated himself from the handshake. As he did, Tar Agath stepped forward.
“Well done,” he said quietly. “All of you,” he added, looking around the circle of young faces. “A year ago, I would not have believed this day to be possible. You’ve all come very far in that time.”
The lordlings murmured their thanks. “Now, get going,” Tar said, grinning.
The lordlings laughed and started for the gate that led out onto the River Road. Relam hung back, not wanting to change everything too suddenly. Better to give them time to get used to it all, he thought. He glanced back at Sebast, and saw that the young heir of the Garenes house was slumped dejectedly on a bench, Tar Agath standing beside him. As he watched, Tar sat beside his former pupil and said something quietly. Sebast looked up, disbelief and surprise written in every line of his expression. He spoke tentatively, a question perhaps, and Tar responded with a grave nod. Then, to Relam’s amazement, Sebast stood, bowed to the sword master, and made for the exit, nodding to Relam as he went.
“What did you tell him?” Relam asked as Tar Agath stood once more.
“I told him that I am proud of the courage he displayed, to put aside the past,” Tar replied.
