Of Blades and Strikes

Sunlight glinted off the blades of the pair of swords moving strategically through the air as they maneuvered past the window of the ancient temple. Metal clashed with metal. One combatant lurched forward while the other stepped aside and deflected the sword thrust toward the middle of his chest. She had nearly hit her mark. It was an epic battle between two expert sword handlers who had spent decades studying the arts and honing their skills. A master and her former pupil, anxious to demonstrate his mettle, crossed swords with more than pride at stake.

"Good, but not good enough, Octavia. I have studied with several masters since we last crossed swords," said Grimaud with a wry grin on his face.

Eyes met, blades crossed, and each moved slightly to their right. Another half-step right and the blades flashed into action. Sparks flew as Octavia whirled her sword to the right in an arc ending an inch from Grimaud's shoulder where his sword stopped the arcing movement of her blade. The top halves of the three candles on the high-top caterer's table next to them fell a moment afterward. The blade of Octavia's weapon had sliced through the candles as her sword swept through the air on the path to Grimaud's neck.

Grimaud pushed the tip of her blade high into the air as he arced his sword overhead from left to right; the action accentuated by the sound of metal dragging across metal. Stepping clear of her reach, he turned and centered himself between the high-top table with the shortened candles and another with desserts awaiting the late-evening reception scheduled for the great hall of the ancient temple. Octavia reset herself and cautiously approached Grimaud, sword dancing back and forth as she calmly looked for the opening that she needed to finish the fight. Olivia thrust at him, aiming for the middle button of his ornate vest. He stepped behind the table to his right, avoiding the thrust. She quickly lifted her sword and brought it straight down, barely missing his head and nearly splitting the table. He responded by trapping her sword across the table, the two blades forming an X in the middle of one of the decadent desserts on the table. Octavia drew her weapon from the trap as she retreated several paces and readied herself for the next foray.

Grimaud reached for a linen cloth and wiped it the length of his blade as he slowly approached Olivia, a cautious look in his eyes reflecting deep respect for her ability to handle both her emotions and the weapon. "Mastery of the self precedes mastery of the art," Grimaud noted aloud.

"A message often repeated but a lesson studied in depth by only a select few," Octavia responded with a nod.

Grimaud advanced quickly, closing the distance between them then circling toward the open center of the great hall. Studying each other intently, slowly moving in a seemingly choreographed dance, gauging reactions to subtle feints, they engaged in a deadly dance punctuated by the sound of boot heels meeting the stone floor, blades moving through air, and metal meeting metal. Grimaud's step faltered slightly and Olivia took advantage of the slight opening made in that split second. Advancing with a thrust followed by several slashing overhead blows, she drove Grimaud back against the wall beside the high-top table covered with the sweet delight they carved earlier in their duel. Holding her blade against his exposed neck, her eyes met his and he accepted his fate, knowing Octavia had bested him. As a nick from her blade released a trickle of blood from his flesh, she drew a hidden dagger from her left boot. The blade flashed and disappeared under the cake on the table next to him and emerged with a decadent triangle of chocolate madness precariously balanced upon it. Olivia said softly, " Your growing reputation is deserved and your training must continue, Grimaud." Smiling, a glint of mischief in her eye, she said, "Your slice is served."