Haunted Past

Chapter 23

The barrack was simple and well used. Tardide did not have a big force, but the space was well tended to. Cedit wasn't wrong that whoever was in charge of looking after the town needed to be able to look over minor things. Orin stripped off his coat and entered the sparring ring, watching Cedit play with his sword. Orin's shoulders tensed, but his sword whispered reassurances. Cedit was not unskilled in swordplay.

Sparring with an unknown fighter was always a strange experience—this time more than most. In the past, Orin had been a leader, an idol who could not be defeated even in a sparring match. Unless it was to someone teaching him a new move, it had been his job to be the strongest and most skilled in the ring. Back then, this would have been a fight to test the stranger's skills. This wasn't the past. This was a test for Orin. Cedit was judging him, and Orin was not yet sure as to why. Would it be best to fight at the best of his ability? Not that he was particularly skilled at the moment in time. Or would it be safer to hold back?

Cedit bowed politely as if this was a round in a court before striking. The first round was a decent time, Orin shaking the rust off his skills. His feet moved instinctively, and he defended well for someone unpractised with combat for a long time. Unlike fists, swords took more time to become re-accustomed to. It was how the weigh pushed the body to move and the force needed to deflect a blow.

There was a flash of light. Orin twisted out of the way of a nasty blow and struck first blood more from chance than skill.

"It counts."

"You're not bad," Cedit's lips quirked up into a pleaded grin. The look in his eyes was more bloodthirsty, however. He returned to the starting point, as did Orin. Best of five was the traditional format, and it seemed the man was eager to play this out to the end.

"You're very skilled yourself," Orin smiled back, steeling his shoulders. Winning, chance or not, may have been planned. It was likely a test of a different kind. Orin had used the method to learn more about the kind of fighter someone was. Arrogant types got over-confidant and struggled to cope as the safety of their first victory was ripped to pieces. "Let's see how well you defend, shall we?"

Orin attacked the man first this time, grinning broadening as Cedit cursed out load, not quite expecting the viciousness of Orin's attacks. Orin deflected the returning blows and got the second first blood this time with far more skill.

"Easy, you don't want to go too over the top."

"I want him to know I have some ability," Orin offered, returning to the starting position. Cedit's eyes were looking him up and down again. The same look from the first night they had met. Sizing Orin up and growing more surprised with every moment about what Orin was.

"You're very good," Cedit wiped his forehead, shifting back to his own start. "But not every fight is as fair as the ring."

"Is the ring ever that fair either?"

Cedit laughed and dived at him. Orin snorted and defended himself, this time with far more passion and fire. The joy of a good fight was beginning to thump within him. Not quite the teeth itching pump of the night in the fist-fighting pit but something beating under his fingers. Orin danced. The metal of their swords sparked, the sound echoing as the force behind got harder and more serious. One particular movement had Cedit cursing while Orin resisted the urge to laugh. Warriors never liked that particular set of footwork.