A selection from "The Cheat"
For those who might be interested, here’s another sample of what you’ll find in my new heroic fantasy collection THE PLAGUE KNIGHT AND OTHER STORIES. Specifically, this is the opening of “The Cheat.” Like several others stories in the collection, “The Cheat” stars Selden, a fencing master who was once a mercenary and who still hires out his sword on occasion to help those menaced by sorcerers, demons, and the like.
Falnac was nervous. I could tell by the way he kept swallowing.
I put my hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Use what we practiced,” I said. “Leap into the distance, feint to the groin, and finish on the outside.”
“Yes, Master Selden,” he whispered.
“And if the two of you wind up close together, stay there and stab like a madman. Alsagad’s taller than you are. Close quarters will make him awkward.”
I could have said more, but a swordsman about to fight for his life can only retain so much advice. Indeed, given that this was Falnac’s first duel, it was an open question whether he’d remember anything I’d just told him, or anything from his six years of lessons, either.
When they deemed the light sufficient, the seconds called the duelists to a patch of ground where there were no tombstones to trip them up. As they advanced, Dromis caught my eye. He was Alsagad’s fencing master as I was Falnac’s, and the protocol of dueling required that we treat one another with solemn courtesy. Instead, the big man with the curling mustachios, pointed beard, and hair all dyed a brassy unnatural yellow gave me a sneer, as if to assert that my teaching and my student were so inferior to his that Alsagad’s victory was assured.
For a heartbeat, it made me want to see Alsagad stretched out dead on the dewy grass, and then I felt ashamed of myself. Like many quarrels, this one had materialized over a trifle, and any decent man would hope to see if it settled by, at worst, a trifling wound.
The seconds gave the principals the chance to speak words of reconciliation, and of course, being proud young blades of Balathex, they didn’t. So Alsagad’s second whipped a white kerchief through the air. That was the signal to begin.
The duelists circled one another while waking birds chirped, a cool breeze blew, and dawn stained the river on the far side of the graveyard red. Then Falnac sprang forward.
His blade leaped at Alsagad’s crotch in as convincing a feint as I’d ever seen. But the move didn’t draw the parry it was meant to elicit. Instead, Alsagad simply cut into Falnac’s wrist. Falnac’s blade fell from his hand.
The seconds opened their mouths to shout for a halt, but they were too slow. Alsagad slashed Falnac’s neck.
Falnac collapsed with blood spurting from the new and fatal wound. Dromis crowed and shook his fist in the air. “Yes!” he bellowed. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
You can find THE PLAGUE KNIGHT AND OTHERS here:
http://www.amazon.com/Plague-Knight-Other-Stories-ebook/dp/B00H1EN9BU/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1386384739&sr=1-1&keywords=the+plague+knight+and+other+stories
Falnac was nervous. I could tell by the way he kept swallowing.
I put my hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Use what we practiced,” I said. “Leap into the distance, feint to the groin, and finish on the outside.”
“Yes, Master Selden,” he whispered.
“And if the two of you wind up close together, stay there and stab like a madman. Alsagad’s taller than you are. Close quarters will make him awkward.”
I could have said more, but a swordsman about to fight for his life can only retain so much advice. Indeed, given that this was Falnac’s first duel, it was an open question whether he’d remember anything I’d just told him, or anything from his six years of lessons, either.
When they deemed the light sufficient, the seconds called the duelists to a patch of ground where there were no tombstones to trip them up. As they advanced, Dromis caught my eye. He was Alsagad’s fencing master as I was Falnac’s, and the protocol of dueling required that we treat one another with solemn courtesy. Instead, the big man with the curling mustachios, pointed beard, and hair all dyed a brassy unnatural yellow gave me a sneer, as if to assert that my teaching and my student were so inferior to his that Alsagad’s victory was assured.
For a heartbeat, it made me want to see Alsagad stretched out dead on the dewy grass, and then I felt ashamed of myself. Like many quarrels, this one had materialized over a trifle, and any decent man would hope to see if it settled by, at worst, a trifling wound.
The seconds gave the principals the chance to speak words of reconciliation, and of course, being proud young blades of Balathex, they didn’t. So Alsagad’s second whipped a white kerchief through the air. That was the signal to begin.
The duelists circled one another while waking birds chirped, a cool breeze blew, and dawn stained the river on the far side of the graveyard red. Then Falnac sprang forward.
His blade leaped at Alsagad’s crotch in as convincing a feint as I’d ever seen. But the move didn’t draw the parry it was meant to elicit. Instead, Alsagad simply cut into Falnac’s wrist. Falnac’s blade fell from his hand.
The seconds opened their mouths to shout for a halt, but they were too slow. Alsagad slashed Falnac’s neck.
Falnac collapsed with blood spurting from the new and fatal wound. Dromis crowed and shook his fist in the air. “Yes!” he bellowed. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
You can find THE PLAGUE KNIGHT AND OTHERS here:
http://www.amazon.com/Plague-Knight-Other-Stories-ebook/dp/B00H1EN9BU/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1386384739&sr=1-1&keywords=the+plague+knight+and+other+stories
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