Oracus: The Lavorian Rider

Ten - Lavorian In Mind

Oracus found himself face to face with Garrin under the shadow of the palace the next morning. It was early, and the air was still cool, but it was to be a sunny day in Afarra once again.

They occupied the gravel sparring area to the rear of the palace, which was long and thin, with several archery targets to one side. It was better maintained than the training area in Thessley, as you would expect, but it was far less busy. It seemed the soldiers of Afarra didn't do their training at dawn; so Oracus and Garrin were alone.

Oracus was stood in the green leather armour he had taken from the armoury, and he also had a lightweight helmet perched on his head. Garrin mirrored him, and they both held a silver sword in their hands with a plain golden handle.

"Should I assume now that I'm actually much worse at sword fighting than you?" Oracus asked. "It would be naïve of me to think the Garrin I sparred with in Thessley a few days ago was the real Garrin. I've seen you kill a man since."

Garrin smiled knowingly. "I won't let you off as lightly as I did before. You're a good swordsman though, Oracus. That much is clear."

Oracus attempted to prove Garrin right and charged with his sword raised, determined to catch his friend off-guard. He swung for the head, but Garrin deflected the strike and retaliated with a blow that knocked Oracus to the ground.

"You're better than that," Garrin said simply, and he gestured for Oracus to get back to his feet.

When he was ready, Oracus tried again to defeat his opponent quickly. He thrust at Garrin and tried to stab his chest, but the attack was dodged and Oracus found himself on his back again.

He remained recumbent for a moment to regain some of the air that had been knocked out his lungs. When he got up, he decided being smarter with his attacks might be the best way to outwit Garrin. He raised his sword until the hilt was level with his face, then he feigned to strike Garrin's left, but instead, turned and swung at his right shoulder. Garrin cleverly anticipated the move, ducked under Oracus's sword and swiped his legs from beneath him. For the third time, Oracus hit the floor hard.

The humiliation of defeat endured for a further half hour. Oracus would repeatedly get up, attack Garrin, and then find himself on the ground, or on the end of a painful strike to his torso.

"I can't do this anymore," he wheezed from the floor, through deep breaths of exhaustion and pain. "You're faster than I am, and you seem to know what I'm going to do before even I do. I haven't struck you once and you've hit me a hundred times."

"You're predictable," Garrin said simply. "You always attack me first; you never wait for me to make the initial move. And when you attack, your eyes give away your intentions every time. You look at the part of my body you're planning to strike."

"You're saying I don't know how to use a sword?" Oracus assumed unhappily.

"No, you're actually very good with a sword. It's your brain that needs practise." Garrin prodded his temple with a finger. "Come on, let's try again."

Reluctantly, Oracus agreed and faced Garrin. Looking at Garrin's armour, he could see barely a mark on it, but his own was covered in dents and scratches. He focused his mind and decided this time he would wait for Garrin to make the first move. When Garrin did eventually strike, Oracus was fast enough to deflect the blow. Garrin staggered backwards and grimaced, then launched himself at Oracus again and swung his sword several times at Oracus's body. Oracus blocked each of the attacks with his sword but Garrin was fast and his strikes fierce. They stepped apart for a second, and Oracus took the time to inhale a deep breath. But Garrin was quick to take advantage and charged his shoulder into Oracus's chest. Oracus fell backwards and gasped as the gravel floor peeled the skin off the palms of his hands.