Swordplay

Hey everyone! Below is a (extremely) short passage I wrote about me sword-fighting, inspired by scenes from The Wrath and the Dawn. Enjoy!

“Up!” he shouted and I knew I had brought death upon myself. “Again!” he barked and moved forward with his sword held at his right. Tired and weary, but charged with adrenaline, I picked up the sword that lay on the dusty ground and gripped it tightly in my raw hands. I widened my stance, like he had suggested, and supported the weight of the entire sword with my upper body strength. Taaraz advanced forward and I looked into his eyes, those narrow pools of uninviting green shining with merciless power. Yet, like the imbecile I was, I glared back with the same revulsion. One leg forward, the other back; chin up, shoulders wide, Taaraz said in my head. Finally, with one last gush of effort, I swung the sword over my head and the blade sliced through the air in a clean arc, whistling in joy at the momentary freedom from my hands. For one intense moment, I thought it would hit him.

It didn’t, obviously.

Another whistling sound as I heard metal clang against metal as Taaraz parried my sword with ease. “Awful,” he said grimly, but I swore I saw an impish grin playing about his lips.

***