“Are you going to run all day? Or are we going to fight?” Oreius asked quietly, narrowing his eyes.
Relam lunged forward and struck from the side, pulling the blow at the last moment. Oreius’ blade slammed into his own with immense force. Relam used the old man’s power to spin a complete circle and whip his own sword around at head height. His blade met Oreius’ yet again though, less than a foot from his grizzled head.
“Not bad,” the old man observed. “Timing was a little off though. Let’s see how you handle this!”
The warrior launched a powerful overhand cut, which Relam sidestepped neatly, retaliating with a thrust. Oreius deflected it then struck from the side, forcing Relam to parry awkwardly. As Oreius continued to attack, flowing from one stance to the next effortlessly, Relam took his sword in a two-handed grip. He was able to parry the blows faster this way, but he was also more restricted in his range of retaliatory strikes. All the time, Relam was giving ground, backing slowly around and around the garden, desperately trying to hold the warrior off.
Finally, they fought their way back to the stone bench, right where they had started. Relam jumped up on the seat, then to the narrow back, still parrying blows from Oreius. Then, he dropped down behind the bench, putting it between them to achieve a moment’s respite.
Oreius nodded and sheathed his sword. “Not bad,” he said, sitting down calmly. “Not bad at all.”
It took Relam a moment to realize the fight was over. He blinked in surprise then, still breathing heavily, he sheathed his sword and walked around the bench to face Oreius again. The old warrior was still breathing lightly, and had not even broken a sweat.
“You were toying with me,” Relam growled.
Oreius looked up at him and raised one eyebrow. “Well, obviously. Otherwise you wouldn’t have lasted but a few seconds.”
The prince scowled. He could feel a burning rage building within him. He was about to speak again, when Oreius beat him to it.
“If it makes you feel any better, few would have lasted that long, even though I was toying with you.”
Relam stopped, frowning.
“I needed to know how skilled you were,” Oreius explained. “What your potential was. And, to some extent, your character.” He looked Relam up and down. “Not a classic warrior build,” he observed, poking Relam in the chest. “No brutish strength here. More of a whipcord feel. Like me, like Tar. Very interesting. Handy with a blade. May I see your sword, Relam?”
The prince drew his blade and handed it over wordlessly. Oreius took it and examined it, paying particular attention to the hilt. “No jewels?” he asked.
Relam shook his head. “No. They’re worse than useless in a real sword. Mess up the grip and the balance.”
“Precisely,” Oreius agreed. “A hand-and-a-half sword, hmm? That’s a peculiar choice, your highness.”
“It comes in handy,” Relam said shrugging. “That way I can fight one or two handed as needed.”
“Which you just did against me,” Oreius said, nodding. “Yes, I noticed that little detail. You spent most of your time on one-handed technique with Tar, yes?”
“Yes,” Relam agreed.
“I thought as much. That is his usual approach and your two-handed work needs practice and refinement. You tended to leave yourself open to backhands. I could have killed you a half-dozen times in as many seconds with those openings.”
Relam said nothing, merely stared straight ahead, determined not to rise to the sword master’s bait. After a long moment, Oreius looked up, smiling slightly, and handed Relam’s sword back to him.
“And even-keeled. Very unusual for a noble. My compliments, your highness.”
“Thank you,” Relam said graciously, sheathing his sword. “Have you reached a decision?”
“Oh, not remotely,” Oreius said, waving the question aside. “There is still much to do in that regard.”
Relam sighed, losing patience rapidly. “The mission I have been sent on is time critical, sir. I must be there and back within the week and the location is two days’ ride from the capital if all goes well.”
“You misunderstand me,” Oreius replied. “I will accompany you on this mission of yours. I want to see you in action, see how you hold up in rough circumstances. If you wish, I will advise you and help you with your battle plan. But I will not do it for you. Have I made myself clear?”
Relam frowned. “Except for the part about not having reached a decision yet.”
“I have not decided yet whether I will agree to train you long term,” Oreius said, standing and stepping into the sward overlooking the river. “That is not a commitment I make lightly. And it has been a long time since I had a candidate remotely worthy of consideration. But, you come recommended from Tar and he thinks highly of you. Very highly actually. And given your other options . . .” Oreius’ voice trailed off and he began murmuring quietly to himself. “Yes, yes, I think it is the right thing to do. Must be done, perhaps will be done. We will see, I suppose.”
“Sir?” Relam asked hesitantly.
Oreius turned back to face Relam, looking surprised to see him still standing there.
“Was there something else?” he asked mildly.
Relam shrugged, not sure how to respond to that question. “I . . . don’t know.”
“Well, I think that’s everything. And if we are leaving tomorrow you had better get your forces together and prepare for the march ahead, yes?”
Relam opened and closed his mouth several times, at a loss for words. “I- yes,” he finally managed. “Tomorrow morning. At dawn. West gate.”
“Splendid,” Oreius said, turning back
