Blade of Erogrund

Chapter Sixteen- A Sword Gained and a Blade Lost

Theronin's nose wrinkled and he pursed his lips. "If you're done asking useless questions we will begin."

"One more useless question, if you would humor me. What is the second sword on your belt for?"

"Unfortunately, it is for you." The young lord uncasped the sword's belt from his waist, handing it to Godric with more than a little disdain. "Against my better judgment,  the command above me has decided that you should be issued a weapon for you continued practice and, should the need arise, defense. I naturally told him of your deficiency in skill and the pointlessness such a weapon would be to one so....juvenile as yourself but nevertheless, it is yours."

Godric ignored much of this speech, instead focusing on the sword that now rested in his hand. Holding the scabbard in his left hand, he drew the blade out with his right so he could examine it. To his dismay there was nothing that caught his eye about it. It was about two and a half feet in length with a blood-groove carved into the center from the hilt to a point about a third of the way down the length. Its faces were smooth and polished with finely honed edges, but was identical to those carried by almost every other soldier in the city.

"You're to maintain that weapon religiously," Theronin continued. "If you give me, or any other official any reason to remove it from your care due to irresponsibility or inappropriate use, we will. Am I understood?"

Godric nodded, his gaze still fixed on the weapon.

"Than put it away and let's see if I can bash some skill into your brain before you kill yourself with it."

Sheathing the sword, Godric put it carefully aside and drew a practice blade. He tossed away his cloak, knowing that it would only hinder him. Theronin did likewise and they began the lesson.

The young lord was especially vehement in his onslaught, constantly switching angles, strokes, power levels, and footwork to keep Godric guessing. The boy did well for the most part, but Theronin's sword dealt a few of its favored bruising hits. Compared to previous encounters, however, he did quite formidably.

As they fought, Godric caught a momentary break in Theronin's guard. It was only for a second, but the boy could somehow tell that the way Theronin's sword was unstable. It would shift if hit. Taking his chance, Godric swung his sword in a powerful ark, hitting Theronin's with the base of the blade. As he had expected, his opponent's sword bent backward, hitting the lord in the forehead. The tip of Godric's sword struck just where he had intended, Theronin's right cheek bone.

The wooden tip connected with an agonizing crack. The young lord fumbled backward, dropping his sword and reeling at the blow.

"Hellstorm!" Theronin fell face-first on the stone Arena floor, both hands clutching his face. "Dragonfire, you!"

Godric gaped wordlessly. At first he felt a drip of pity for the young lord, but it was soon consumed with an unexpected and overwhelming hatred. This arrogant prick has hurt me so many times in the past that it is more than time for him to get a taste of it. Instead of bending down to help him, Godric threw his wooden sword down, letting its heavy blade strike him in the head. The lord immediately went silent.

Godric murmured a curse under his breath but walked away. Collecting his sword, he noticed that his cloak had blown away beyond sight. Shivering against the bitter cold of the late morning, he walked back toward the city and out of the training grounds, leaving Theronin in the Arena.

It was not long, though, before he discovered that the gateway back into the city was blocked by three armed guards, a woman who appeared to be a Captain and two other lower ranking soldiers. All wore heavy iron plates and carried keen-edged swords similar to the one that Godric now wore.