I Am Warrior

Eight

EIGHT

Reacting on instinct, Blake narrowly missing the gleam of the wildly arcing blade as it hissed toward his face.

He jumped back, nervous energy flooding his system. He and Darcy had locked horns the minute he had blown into camp. He had seen every spectrum of emotions he thought humanly possible within that boy, but the one he was wearing right now eclipsed them all.

Weak or not, this boy had it in him to kill. As if reading his mind, the blade swung up, only missing him by millimetres due to his quick back step as he growled out, 'Rule number one; never underestimate your enemy.' He punctuated each word with a thrust of the blade, Blake only managing to block them due to years of trained skill and honing of techniques. Blake realised his only shot to come out of this one on top was to equalise the match. In a deadly dance he began to lead to boy to where the gleaming swords glinted in the intense sun.

Darcy swung again, and pain kissed down his left bicep as the blade ran down his arm. Blake hissed in pain. The kid had actually wounded him!

'Rule number two;' Darcy shot out, cool eyes hard as stone, coiled like a cobra ready to strike. 'Know your enemy.'

He knew the boy was trying to prove a point, but it gave Blake an idea. He broke out of the deadly game Darcy had locked him in and launched himself toward the closest blade. Closing his fist around the leather bound hilt, he rolled into a crouch, facing the boy charging at him with a furious battle cry, sword balanced precariously over his head ready to swing.

Blake stood and met the thrust with a parry. The sickening metallic clang of the swords locking together made the scene seem more real. He saw a flicker of apprehension enter the boys gaze as he bore down on the two blades, his strength clearly more dominant than Darcy's.

The boy let the blow go and both swords slammed into the dirt with the pressure Blake was exerting.

Quickly Darcy extracted his sword and backed away from Blake, a calculating look entering the piercing blue eyes, crystal clarity changing them entirely.

The boy attacked again, with the drill they had just been using. Blake hid a triumphant smile. He knew that dull back to front, but decided to play along, block for block, parry for parry, thrust for thrust.

Of its own accord, Blake's blade snakes out and drew a small line on the boy's right cheek, along his cheekbone. Darcy flinched against the sudden stinging pain on his face before his eyes hardened once more and he slipped further into the bloodlust filled battle-mode.

As blood dribbled down his cheek in a mocking imitation of tears, the boy went on the offence, throwing swing after swing at Blake.

The blades danced together in the harsh light of the sun, sliding against each other, kissing each other in deadly intimacy. Sweat poured from Darcy and Blake both, sweat mixed with blood as each sustained more sharp edged blows to their bodies.

They ducked and whirled as if in a dance, coming dangerously close but simply flirting with the death with they both seemed to possess.

They kicked up so much dust that it began to sting Blake's eyes, but instead he met each of Darcy's thrust with a block.

Using the tough leather binding on his left hand, Blake gripped his blade in that palm, stopping a kill shot from Darcy. Their chests heaved together, brushing against each other, their feet flush with each other. Darcy turned his face up to look at Blake and something in their ice cool depths surprised him. Before he knew it, the boy jumped out of reach and swung around again, blade pointing levelly at Blake's chest, though with a definite shake due obvious exhaustion.