“Pleased to meet you, milady Jahrra. And I beg you not to listen to everything our young lord here has to say.”
Like Keiron the day before, Pendric brushed Jahrra’s knuckles with his lips, then straightened and leveled his gaze on the regent’s son. While the two discussed some recent sparring practice, Jahrra studied this new character she found just as intriguing as Keiron.
Pendric had the pale blue eyes she had seen so often among the elves of this mountain city, but his hair was brown, not blond. He was also built more solidly than the lean men and women of Cahrdyarein. Perhaps he had more human blood running through his veins than Keiron and his family?
“So, are you here to practice as well?” Pendric asked, breaking into Jahrra’s scrutiny.
“Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” she stated rather boldly, crossing her arms over her chest and standing up straighter.
The captain of the guard gave her a once over, trying to decide if he could figure out her level of skill just by looking at her. Eventually, he huffed a quick breath and said, “I do believe you just might be able to take on our Keiron, here.”
Jahrra beamed and climbed over the fence. The longer she stood on the outskirts of the action, the more her blood longed to be fighting once again.
To her great delight, Jahrra soon discovered the practice area was very well-equipped. Leaning against one of the buildings were several barrels full of wooden wasters, bows and arrows, as well as some other formidable weaponry she couldn’t quite name. One crate held maces, while another rack sported poleaxes. Not only did the training facility stock blunted weapons for practice, they also supplied wooden and straw-stuffed dummies for the beginners and plenty of gloves, gambesons, leather armor and even chainmail in various sizes.
“This is quite an impressive operation you’ve got going here,” Jahrra murmured as she lifted up a padded vest that looked about her size.
“Oh, yes,” Keiron said, slipping on some gauntlets and testing the weight of the blunted swords.
Jahrra did the same, eventually choosing a practice weapon that had the same feel in her grip as her own sword.
Keiron next opened a trunk and pulled out two protective masks. Jahrra took the one he offered, testing its weight in her hand. It looked like the helmets any soldier might wear while on duty, but it was constructed mostly of leather with a few strips of metal in places that would receive the most damage if struck.
“Now, those are just a precaution,” Pendric stated as she and Keiron walked into a practice ring.
Jahrra shifted from foot to foot, her adrenaline rushing through her blood and forcing her heart to race. It had been so long since she’d had the pleasure of a good combat session, too long. To help calm her nerves a bit, she took a moment to glance around. Each fighting area was circular, some twenty feet in diameter with a crude fence encircling each ring. This gave the fighters plenty of room to maneuver while keeping them contained so as not to stumble into another pair of combatants.
“We never aim for the head, not in practice at least,” Pendric explained, regaining Jahrra’s attention. “If you are up on the wall and a threat presents itself, well then, by all means, go for the head. But not here. Here, we are all friends, and we want to keep it that way.”
Jahrra nodded. She was liking the captain of the guard more and more by the minute.
“Are you two ready? Would you like to run through some basic drills before you get started, or would you rather just jump into some open sparring?”
“I’m ready for a fight if you are,” Jahrra pronounced, facing Keiron and choosing a middle guard.
Keiron nodded, a gleam of mischief in his eye, before bringing his sword hilt up near his eyes, point on Jahrra.
“Very well. You may begin!” Pendric boomed.
Keiron was the first to make a move, which Jahrra had been hoping for. He lunged at her, driving his sword forward as if to stab her in the shoulder. She was ready for this particular thrust. With fluid speed, she brought her sword up, catching his blade with her cross guard, then rotating the hilt around so that the end of the sword tapped him against his temple.
The elf’s blue eyes widened with surprise. Jahrra only smiled.
“What? Did you think I didn’t know what I was doing?”
“Reset,” Pendric commanded.
It was clear he was trying very hard to keep his laughter at bay.
This time, Keiron took a low guard and waited for Jahrra’s attack.
Very well, she mused. She brought her sword up high, as if planning to split her opponent down the middle. Just as she predicted, Keiron flicked his wrist, aiming his weapon’s point toward her middle. Jahrra quickly switched tactics and rotated her sword around in a circle, bringing the blade crashing down on Keiron’s and forcing his weapon to the ground. Before he could react, she yanked her own sword up, pressing the false edge of the blade against his throat.
Keiron panted from the effort exerted so far and flicked his eyes in Jahrra’s direction.
Jahrra tilted her head to the side, the way a dragon might do while nonchalantly inspecting its prey.
“This edge wouldn’t be as sharp as the other one, in a real fight. But it could still do some damage,” she said with smug satisfaction.
“Oh, Keiron,” Pendric chuckled. “I’m really liking this new friend of yours!”
They reset again following each exchange, both of them choosing a different guard and means of attack. After several choppy starts, they finally got into a rhythm of attacking, countering and reposting. Jahrra would lunge with a stab, and Keiron would use his sword to bat hers away. Jahrra would then recover by side-stepping off point and bringing her sword back around to attack him. Back and forth they went, battered wood clacking and scraping, splintered blades catching, forcing their wielders to wind the weapon around the other in order to return the sword point to its original target.
For an hour or more they battled. Jahrra would win some matches while Keiron would dominate in others. One thing was for certain, however: both of them must have been quite impressive because by the time Jahrra and Keiron called it a day, several onlookers had gathered to watch the display. Either that or they were just curious about the girl who was matching their young lord blow for blow.
“You are an impressive swordswoman!” Keiron exclaimed as they returned their equipment at the end of their practice.
“You’re not bad yourself,” Jahrra stated, laughing a little.
“So, would you like to make this a daily ritual?”
Jahrra paused in her removal of the gambeson she’d borrowed for practice and glanced at the Resai elf. That cool confidence lingered about him, the one that complimented his affable demeanor. Jahrra wasn’t sure if she should so easily go along with Keiron’s wishes, but this hour of practice had felt so wonderful. In fact, she couldn’t wait to spar again tomorrow. Maybe even get a little archery in as well. Jahrra had a feeling there was more to it than her simple desire to do what she loved once more. Having such a charming sparring partner was definitely an advantage in her eyes.
Jahrra took a cleansing breath and smiled. “I think that would be a great idea. But do you mind if we meet earlier tomorrow morning? I was going to explore Cahrdyarein with Dervit, since I sort of abandoned him today, and I promised him just the two of us would take in the sights.”
Some indiscernible emotion stirred in Keiron’s eyes, but his easy smile never faltered.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll ask Pendric if anyone is interested. Unless, of course, you don’t want a crowd.”
That unsettled look vanished, only to be replaced by one that made Jahrra grow warm instead.