The Thieves of Otar

The Duel

Zia glared at her opponent, snowflakes falling down all around her. The steam coming from her exhalation marred her vision slightly, but she remained focused on the tall, armored figure before her. His sword was in his hands, his feet shoulder length apart, mirroring Zia's own stance. He was loose and comfortable, almost lazy in his position, but Zia didn't let that fool her. She had been trained to size up her opponent quickly and accurately, and she did this now. She was confident that she could hold her own against this man.

Heath watched from the sidelines as Jay and Zia circled around each other, each looking for a hole in the other's defense. The wait was beginning to lengthen, and Heath knew Zia well enough to know that she would attack soon if Jay hesitated much longer.

True to Heath's prediction, Zia took advantage of Jay's prolonged hesitation to make a speedy attack. Quick as thought, she lunged her sword out at Jay, and the Captain responded just as quickly, blocking her swing with one easy motion. He responded with a swing of his own. The blade moved faster than Heath could see, but Zia blocked the blow that would have taken her head from her shoulders as easily as Jay did hers.

From that moment there was no longer any hesitation. The blows went left and right, back and forth, to and fro faster than Heath could comprehend. He wasn't all that skilled with a sword, so Heath couldn't fathom how the two could keep up with each other.

Lunge, perry, swing, block, swipe, perry, lunge, block, block, swing. Even the Guards, who were no slouchers in the art of sword fighting, could barely keep up with the moves done by both Zia and Jay. It could not be denied that they were both excellent with a blade, but who would pull through as the victor was the real question. That's the question they were trying to answer. The lack of activity among the company had driven the two swordsmen to agree to a duel to see who could trump the other. Bets had been made among the company as to who would emerge victorious.

Zia fought like an animal, but every move she made toward Jay was blocked with what seemed like ease for the young man, but she was satisfied that she had presented the same challenge for him. Her defense was solid, and her attacks were quick, hard. The sword seemed to merely be an extension of her arm.

Swipe, swipe, block, feint, swing, block, block, swing, stab. Attack, attack, block, block, attack, block, jab.

It was indeed a beautiful fight, for those who could appreciate the exactness and grace in each and every one of the duelers' moves. A fanciful person might describe the fight as poetry, music, or some other form of beauty and dedicated preciseness.

The snow fell lightly around the spectators. The wind whistled through the Pass. The harmonious sound of steel on steel, sword on sword, rang through the frigid air.

Jay feinted a left swing at Zia's head, then quickly switched into a series of deadly blows that rained down on Zia. She blocked each and every one with a parry; Jay was much stronger than Zia was, and she had found out the hard way that blocking his attacks full-stop would just numb her arms.

Zia's breathing came harder and harder with each passing moment. The cold air stung her lungs and she was so concentrated on keeping her balance, blocking Jay's attacks, and making a few attacks of her own that she was quickly draining her reservoir of energy.

On the receiving end of Zia's would-be deadly blows, Jay was experiencing similar effects of their duel. The sword became heavy in his hand, his moves became less powerful and more sluggish. His breathing came hard and fast, the cold air stealing his breath. He knew he would have to end the fight soon or both he and Zia would be too drained to move for the next three days, even as in shape as they were. They had been fighting for a long time now. How long had it been exactly? Half an hour? An hour? It was hard to tell.