Orbelon's World (Book 3) by Martin Ash Read Free Book Online

observed unseen.
       The two fighters wore hauberks of stuffed leather, leather shin-guards and hardened leather bascinets. Master Meles fought with a light longsword, a slim dagger gripped in his left hand. Shenwolf, somewhat to Issul's surprise, used his own smallsword, notable for its unusual down-curving quillons. He
    too held a slender dagger in his left hand. The fact that they were his own weapons suggested that the edges were not dulled, as was the norm in practice.
       The two men seemed not to have been duelling for long. Neither of them was breathing hard or had worked up a sweat. They moved cautiously across the floor, circling one another, sizing each other up. Occasionally one would make a feint, but neither seemed ready yet to seriously press the attack. Then Master Meles lunged. Shenwolf slanted his torso to the side, stepping backwards at the same time. Meles's blade pushed past his breastbone, missing him by a finger's breadth. Shenwolf's shorter blade came up and caught Meles's sword with the curved tine of his quillon. Shenwolf twisted deftly and thrust away, pushing Meles momentarily off-balance. Meles swivelled, quickly recovering his guard, and parried a thrust from Shenwolf. He leapt in and sent Shenwolf back with a series of blindingly fast thrusts.
       The combat was earnest now. Both men had the measure of their opponent, and each had gained the other's respect. They sparred back and forth. Issul found her eyes more frequently on Shenwolf. There was a grin upon his face; he was plainly enjoying the sport. A slight glow had begun to colour his cheeks and sweat could be seen gleaming on his brow below the rim of his leather bascinet. Likewise Master Meles was breathing harder, a sheen of perspiration on his face.
       Shenwolf was the taller and more slightly built of the two. His movements were fluid and graceful, extremely fast and perfectly controlled. It was almost like watching a skilled dancer. His attacks came from unusual angles. He would lean his body to one side, strike upwards to Meles's flank, forcing Meles to an awkward backhanded defence. He would raise his blade high and stab downwards over Meles's attack. At times he would appear to leave himself open, but when Meles moved to take advantage, Shenwolf would dart or twist or bend his body and Meles would strike only air, or clash against Shenwolf's blade.
      It was true that Meles was Shenwolf's senior by well over a decade, and might therefore lack the speed and stamina of the younger man, but he was superbly fit and powerful. His superior strength and experience, by Issul's calculations, should have outweighed any advantages Shenwolf had. But as the combat proceeded it became obvious that Meles was being forced onto the defensive far more frequently than was to his liking.
       Quite suddenly it was over. Meles was being pushed back, step by remorseless step, until he was close up against the wall opposite the gallery from where Issul watched. Each blow, had it struck home, would have impaled him. But he fended with quick, expert parries and deflections and further backward steps. Abruptly he stepped in with a powerful counterstrike. Shenwolf dodged, caught the blade with his quillon and twisted hard, this time with a sharp downward motion. Meles grunted; his sword flew from his hand and clattered across the floor. He straightened with an expression of rueful resignation, Shenwolf's swordtip at his throat.
       Issul clapped. All four men looked up. Kol and Phisusandra rose immediately from the bench where they sat, and they each bowed their heads.
       'Do not stand on ceremony,' said Issul. 'That was impressive to observe. An excellent display!'
       Master Meles, nursing his wrist, said, 'Master Shenwolf tried hard to convince me verbally of the merits of the shortsword over the long. I wasn’t persuaded and invited him to prove his case.' He wiped his forearm across his brow. 'I confess , I didn’t anticipate quite so