“Not today, Graimes,” Pendric said, stepping forward as he pulled on a pair of leather gauntlets. One of the practice helmets was tucked under his arm and a blunted sword rested against his hip.
Jahrra pulled up her own sparring mask and stared at him. “What’s going on?”
Pendric gave her his brightest smile, but there was something predatory about it today.
“Oh, someone just promised me a whole month’s salary if I could beat the human girl in a sparring match.”
Jahrra felt her jaw drop open and the air rush from her lungs. Everyone within earshot started murmuring.
“How much is a month’s salary worth?” she breathed.
Pendric named the sum, and she squeaked. “Who on Ethoes would spend that much?!” she demanded, looking around the crowd as if the culprit would jump out and wave his hands at her.
“Don’t know and don’t care,” Pendric said. “The offer was presented as an anonymous note, accompanied by a smaller sum to prove its validity. An extra month’s salary would pay for a fine new dress for my wife, with a little to spare. So, you must forgive me, Jahrra, for I intend to use all my skills during this bout.”
The captain of the guard slipped his mask over his head with a swift movement and used his boot to flick his sword into his hand. That act alone had Jahrra questioning her ability to last even thirty seconds against him.
Enough, Jahrra! Focus! Don’t let the details distract you. He’s an opponent like anyone else, her inner voice snapped.
She quickly resettled her own helmet and lifted her sword in front of her, angling it across her body in a mid-guard. This was going to be a brutal fight.
Pendric struck first with the speed of a snake, lunging and nearly landing a hit to the middle of her chest. Fortunately, Jahrra was fast, and she just barely made it out of range. Knowing full well he wouldn’t pause between attacks, Jahrra flung her sword over her head at an angle and caught his blade before it could come crashing down on her shoulder. She pushed away again, spinning to face him so that she might see the attack this time.
“You do have great speed,” he mused, stepping away from her and dropping his own weapon back into a guard.
The two of them occupied one of the largest circles, rotating around the center as they each studied the other, watching for signs of impending attack while also searching for an opening. All around them, a crowd had formed, soldiers and trainees finding an excuse to take a break so they could witness what would certainly prove to be the highlight of the day.
Without warning, Pendric feinted left, then right, swinging his sword effortlessly. Each time, Jahrra barely managed to glance his blade away with hers. She gritted her teeth and refocused. He is just playing with me, she realized. He would wear her down and then show her what he was really made of. She let her mind wander just a bit, back to her lessons with Yaraa and Viornen from long ago. They had been so simplistic with their moves. Efficiency and speed. No need for the embellishments that some fighters liked to mix in with their sword play.
“It’s a ruse to trick you into thinking they are far more skilled than they actually are,” Viornen had told her.
“It takes very little to accomplish your end goal,” Yaraa, Viornen’s wife, had added. “The right moves to defeat any opponent are far simpler than you think.”
Pendric swung again, and Jahrra had to counter with a low block, then immediately bring the sword up in front of her to deflect Pendric’s quick response. He didn’t stop there. He wound his sword around hers, but she was familiar with the move and dropped and rolled before he could angle his blade downward and stab her in the shoulder.
Breathing heavily from the close call, Jahrra bounded back to her feet and faced Pendric again. Although he was using the overstated movements her trainers had warned her about, she was also certain that, unlike most soldiers, he knew how to be efficient.
So, Jahrra, she told herself, don’t be surprised if one of his fancy moves results in his blade coming to rest against your neck.
The captain of the guard came at her again, but this time she didn’t waste time with a simple block. She met his attack with her own, nearly getting off a tap to his upper arm as her sword slipped around his. This must have awoken the warrior in him, because Pendric answered back even more fiercely than before. Jahrra blocked his attack, then grabbed the middle of her sword with her left hand to prevent another attempt at cleaving her in two. As soon as his blade crashed against hers, she jerked her right shoulder around and shoved the pommel of her sword forward, pressing the right side of the cross guard into his neck. While his sword was still trapped against his body, Jahrra stepped forward with her left foot and placed her right leg behind his. Just as Pendric’s eyes grew wide with realization, she rotated to the left, the hilt of her sword acting as a hook to drag him to the ground. When he instinctually tried to take a step back, her leg got in the way. The captain of the guard crashed to the dirt as unceremoniously as a bag of potatoes falling from a cart. Jahrra quickly resettled her sword in her hand and managed to grab his as well. Before a crowd of thirty or more onlookers, Jahrra stood over Pendric with the blunted points of both their swords aimed at his neck.
Not until an uproarious cheer cut through the air did she realize just how hard her heart was pounding; how rapidly she was breathing. Sweat that she hadn’t noticed before stung her eyes and ran down her neck. Pendric, she realized, was just as winded as she was, and to her delight, held up his hands, admitting his defeat.
He wasn’t a small man, taller than her and broader, but with that neat trick she’d learned from Viornen so long ago, she had been able to take him down.
“In all my years,” Pendric said gruffly, “never would I have guessed someone outside of these walls could have had such excellent training.”
Jahrra shook her head, the aftereffects of her adrenaline rush, paired with the shouts and general clamor of the crowd, making it hard for her to focus.
“May I rise now, Lady Jahrra?” the captain of the guard asked, showing her his palms and a chastened smile.
Jahrra exhaled once and withdrew both the swords, casting them aside and reaching down to help him up.
“Oh no, lass,” he said, rolling over to stand up on his own. “My weight would surely pull you down.”
He didn’t sound angry, but there was definitely a disappointed lilt to his voice. Jahrra bit her lip and tried not to smile. She supposed she’d be sore for not winning a whole month’s salary as well.
“I’m sorry you won’t get your prize now,” she muttered, pulling off the practice helmet.
Pendric did the same and gave her an exasperated look. “Gods and goddesses above and below girl!” he roared. “Yes, the money would have been very pleasant, but it is my reputation and pride that took the brunt of it!”
He gave her a quick grin and a wink. Jahrra smiled back in return.
“One of the first rules I ever learned from my trainers,” she said, “was to never underestimate your opponent.”
Jahrra cast her eyes around the immediate crowd and spotted Dervit, his brilliant red hair standing out like a banner. She waved at him, hoping he had heard her last words.
“Yes, that’s another thing,” Pendric said, gesturing for Jahrra to follow him out of the practice ring so that the hot-blooded soldiers could use the momentum of the recent sparring match to get a good workout in. “Who trained you?”
Jahrra took a breath to answer, and then remembered how her teachers had gone to a lot of trouble to hide themselves away in Oescienne. She didn’t think Pendric could, or would, ever pose a threat, but she also remembered what Jaax had said about minding her words while in Cahrdyarein.