Perry inched his front foot forward, little by little, closing the gap between them. Telhari continued to observe Perry, looking for an opening, waiting for—

Clang!

Telhari’s hand moved out of instinct, blocking the strike that came at him. He blinked; Perry was in front of him, twisting his arm and pushing the sword toward Telhari’s body. Telhari had been outmaneuvered in that instant, and if he were any less skilled the match would have been over with that first strike.

Telhari sank a few inches, turned his arm to redirect Perry’s sword downward and pushed off the ground. He shuffled back and swiftly reoriented himself. Perry regained his stance and pulled the blade back with two hands, drawing it up into position.

Sir Perry wielded a longsword; on the surface it seemed an ordinary affair, with dark-blue and gold colored leather winding around the handle. But Telhari knew instantly the familiar feel of Dwarven craftsmanship. If Telhari’s blade had not been wrought of Lindhathal steel, Perry would have cut through him like butter and the match would have ended in blood.

This was all Telhari had time to reason, however, because in a moment Perry was upon him again.

This time, he stabbed at Telhari’s abdomen. Rather than parry, Telhari sidestepped the attack. But Perry was quick —quicker than Telhari had expected— and in a split second he was upon him again. Telhari avoided the next strike, but with each successive attack, Perry was giving him less and less time to recover. Telhari was losing more of his balance with each movement, and eventually—

Clang!

Telhari had no choice but to parry him again. The two blades collided in the air, with Telhari thrusting upward in an attempt to divert Perry’s attack. But the victory was short lived. Perry immediately brought the sword down before Telhari could lower his arm back to a defensive position.

“Telhari!”

Ellis cried out to him as he watched Perry swing. Telhari staggered backwards, a gash running across the front of his leather armor. Ellis struggled in Avenell’s grip.

“Please, Avenell! Let me go!”

Avenell didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t sure that his words would reach Perry— not now.

“Hector!”

“Yes, Master Avenell!” Hector cried out as he led the horse over to them.

“Go to the manor, get Ingrid immediately.”

Hector nodded. He then led the horse by the reigns and sped off back toward the barracks.

Avenell looked around; there was a crowd gathering now. Apparently, there were a few merchants who had attempted to leave the southern gate but stopped when they saw the commotion. This, it seems, had led others to gather; and now there were well over a dozen people watching— and with more incoming.

“Telhari,” Mary called out, “Are you hurt!?”

Telhari ran his finger along the length of the cut in his armor— there was no blood. He nodded to her but did not take his eyes off Perry.

Perry snorted as he drew up his blade.

“How can a man who is beholden to the worries of children possibly assert himself as their teacher?”

Telhari ignored his comment. His mind was preoccupied.

Perry was not someone he could defeat without trying— he had suspected this. But he had not expected such a level of skill. Perry was making it increasingly hard to remain on the defensive. Telhari didn’t want to make matters worse, nor did he want to hurt Ellis’ uncle, but he was running out of options. And there was something else that was bothering him, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“If you refuse to come at me…”

Perry launched himself at Telhari with his sword pointed forward. Telhari lowered himself, ready to sidestep his jab. But in the last moment, Perry feinted and drew back just enough to slice upwards. Telhari parried him again and drew his own blade back to a neutral position— trying to anticipate Perry’s next move.

Perry wasted no time.

He instantly readjusted himself and swung laterally at Telhari. Telhari turned his blade to the broad side and moved to stop the impact. But the instant their blades connected, Perry relaxed his arm and pulled back. From there, he stabbed it forward, aiming directly at Telhari’s chest—

“Agh!”

Telhari’s boot impacted his chest; Perry staggered backwards and nearly fell over.

Telhari lowered his boot back to the ground and assumed his stance. He figured it was better to use his physical body than to use magic against Sir Perry. This was a duel of honor and skill. Perry was a human who, as far as Telhari was aware, had no ability to manipulate arcane forces. To weave spells against him in the context of the duel would dishonor them both.

Stolen story; please report.

“Do you think so low of humans, elfkin,” Perry called to him as he lifted up his blade and walked forward, “That you cannot even raise your sword against me!?”

Perry charged toward Telhari again, swinging openly at him from the right. Telhari brought his blade up to parry.

Clang!

Telhari felt his sword arm collapse and the edge of Perry’s blade touched the cloth of his shirt. His heartbeat quickened and he knew then that he had made a mistake.

Perry pulled back on his blade, slicing through the cloth and cutting into Telhari’s flesh. Telhari felt the pain run down his arm —a warmth cascaded through his body. Blood droplets scattered into the air, flying off the edge of Perry’s sword as it continued along its path.

Telhari watched Perry’s facial expression remain stone hard and full of anger. Perry’s decision was made…and it was time for Telhari to make his.

The momentum of the slash pulled Telhari down, but rather than peel away and try to gain distance, he leaned into it. Telhari sank low and spun around in a flash— faster than Perry could prepare himself for. He planted his foot and thrust his sword toward Perry who brought up his metal gauntlet in an attempt to divert the attack. Telhari’s blade sliced into it and continued straight toward Perry’s face. Perry felt the blade cut into his cheek; the pain moved through him, burning like a fire and filling him with strength. He forced his arm to the side, loosening Telhari’s blade from the gauntlet and giving himself some distance.

Perry paused for a moment as the blood ran down his cheek and dripped off his chin, staining his armor red.

“Good,” Perry announced as he wiped the blood away. “I was beginning to think that you had lost the will to fight.”

“It is not too late to end the fighting.”

“It will end when one of us is defeated.”

Perry stooped low and closed the distance once again. Only this time, Telhari did not wait for him to make the first move. Telhari moved forward and struck at Perry with another stab— interrupting his swing and forcing him to change direction.

Perry collapsed his strike and pushed himself back a pace to narrowly avoid the tip of Telhari’s sword as it swung past his chest. In most instances, Perry would have the height advantage, or at least there would be an even match-up. Telhari, however, was taller than most men Perry had ever fought. In addition to that, he had long arms that gave him a much farther reach, despite using a shorter sword than his own. But it was not so much of an advantage that he could not adapt.

Perry continued to reposition himself against Telhari, attempting each time to swing at him as he had before. When Telhari was on the defensive, Perry’s proficiency and raw power were enough to pressure him into making mistakes that could be taken advantage of. However, with Telhari on the offensive, Perry saw none of those same openings.

He had never fought an elfkin before.

Perry knew that there was a strangeness to their swordplay that was unconventional by human standards, though he knew none of the details.

Clang!

Telhari parried again, sending Perry’s sword upward.

Perry retracted his arms and aimed for the open space in front of Telhari’s chest. All restraint had left him: he was solely focused on felling his opponent.

Telhari could sense it— an intent to kill. He flipped the sword and twisted his wrist, adjusting his grip on the handle. He stabbed downward and caught Perry’s blade with the cross-guard and deflected the strike. Perry staggered forward and Telhari caught him in the face with his fist.

Perry tore himself away as pain filled his jaw, but Telhari continued to slash at him, forcing Perry backwards and putting him on the defensive.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

One after another, Perry moved his blade from left to right, up to down, frantically trying to keep up. He was being overpowered both in speed and strength. With every impact Perry could feel his blood boiling hotter and hotter. His honor was on the line, and he was losing. Telhari was undermining him both as a warrior and as Ellis’ guardian. Perry cried out suddenly as he shoved Telhari’s blade away from his face. In a fury, he lunged at Telhari and swung at him with all his strength.

Telhari anticipated the strike and moved to parry, but when he met Perry’s blade, he found himself completely overpowered. The impact of the strike alone nearly broke Telhari’s defenses; but stranger than the power behind his blow was the sensation that rang through his body when their blades touched.

Perry’s strength was impossible.

In the end, Telhari managed barely to deflect the strike, allowing himself to retreat back a few paces. He raised his arm immediately in defense, but Perry did not pursue him. Telhari watched as Perry began to breathe heavy.

There was, against all logic, an intuition springing forth from the back of Telhari’s mind. A realization he could only now qualify after having felt it unmistakably.

Perry’s blade was imbued with magic.

Not only was the blade exceptionally forged, but it was also blessed with an enchantment. Telhari had fought both against and alongside such formidable weapons in the past. This particular enchantment was a simple but powerful one; it is a spell that translates the wielder’s emotional fortitude into physical striking power. The quality of the blade itself is enough to make quick work of human-forged iron and steel. Adding to that Perry’s skill and the strength of the enchantment, against any other human, Perry would be nearly unbeatable. Unkillable.

Telhari started to wonder who could have forged him such a weapon, but he was unable to finish his thought.

Clang!

Again, Perry closed the gap, the force of his attacks increasing with each exchange.

One, two, three, four, five!

Strike after strike, Telhari felt the same sensation: the blade was channeling Perry’s rage into strength, and it was continuing to increase. Telhari attempted to retreat but Perry gave him no time. He closed the distance and slashed at him, cutting into Telhari’s chest— drawing blood once again.

Telhari let the pain wash over him and he took in a quick breath as he readied himself once more.

When Perry came at him again—this time with a slash from below— Telhari deliberately remained in the path of the strike to keep him from moving. Then, in a split second, Telhari narrowly evaded the attack; and the instant Perry’s momentum had rotated his body, Telhari jabbed at him with his blade. Perry cried out in pain and staggered backwards; there was a clanging of metal as his sword hit the ground.

Telhari had struck him in the shoulder mid swing— not enough to sever tendon or pierce bone, but hopefully enough to prevent him from swinging his sword.

“Sir Perry!”

Avenell let go of Ellis and darted toward Perry, but before he could make it Perry cried out to him.

“Stay away!”

Avenell stopped in his tracks.

“The match is not over yet.”