“Next up is Herbert and M’kesh,” Lady Matilda announced.
M’kesh was from a tribe to the south. He had been orphaned early in life and survived by stealing. One day he managed to sneak into a merchant’s caravan and ate some exotic fruits before being caught by a guard. The merchant took mercy on the boy and offered him the chance to make up for the theft by becoming his adopted son and doing chores. The merchant’s wife was barren and they had wanted children so badly. M’kesh agreed. After a few years of living the life of a caravaneer, he told his father he wished to become a knight one day. His father decided it would make his reputation all the more important if he was the father of a knight, and he agreed.
Herbert was the son of a minor noble and worked hard to prove he was not some spoiled brat. He sometimes looked down on others, and often apologized to his fellow squires for his behavior. Still, he took his training seriously and had the callouses and bruises to prove it.
The fight dragged on for nearly ten minutes. Herbert had extra experience with the sword as a result of training in his childhood. But M’kesh was fast, and often stepped out of the way the sword as if he were avoiding running into someone on the street. He did not need to move hurriedly or very far, and the seeming casual nature of it served to infuriate Herbert. Herbert’s swinging became erratic and he left himself open to attacks. M’kesh seemed to be in no hurry to win, in fact he had put his sword in its scabbard and was unarmed. This caused Herbert even more anger, and his swings were now unbalancing him. Finally, after one such overswing, M’kesh calmly pushed Herbert over. He then dropped down onto Herbert’s swordhand, pinning it in place, and raised his shield high in the air as if to smash his opponent’s head like a grape.
“Halt!” called Lady Matilda. “M’kesh wins.”
M’kesh lowered his shield, stood, and walked away. Herbert remained on the ground for several minutes, crying. The knights did not wait for him to stop, but just continued calling names.
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Several fights passed. Nance won her second battle handily. M’kesh fought with his sword in his offhand and his shield in his good hand, still winning, though he did not take his time to do so. Lady Matilda drew two more chips.
“Thom and Grace!” she called.
Grace was a skilled archer, but Thom could not remember how she was with a sword. He took his regular stance and waited. Grace took a standard stance, but something about it seemed off.
“Begin!” yelled Sir Franklin.
Thom decided to take this fight slower, let her style reveal an opening. Grace raised her sword arm behind her and squared her shield against her shoulder. Thom was unsure of what to make of it. She began moving toward him in a slow and deliberate manner. Thom watched her feet and saw she moved with total control. He tried to circle around, she adjusted her walk to always face him and continued. Thom broke into a run; she stopped moving and watched. Just as he came far enough around, she swung to face him. Thom stopped. They stood, staring. She began to move in again. Thom decided to let her. He would just deal with her attacks. She was within striking distance and Thom swung for her forward leg. She lowered her shield completely to block, catching his sword. He tried to pull away, but it was stuck. He saw her sword flash down, and he managed to deflect it with his own shield. Again he pulled at his sword, but it would not budge. He blocked another swing of her sword. When the third swing came down, he decided to abandon the sword. He blocked and aimed the blade of his hand at her throat. She lifted her shield arm to block, and his sword went up with it. Lodestone? But how did it not pull at their armor or his shield? He reached for his sword again and kicked her in the stomach as he pulled on the handle. It finally wrenched free. He took to the offense, swinging again and again, rattling his arm as she blocked. She slowly withdrew with each block. There was no time for her to counterattack, if he could just keep this up she would eventually back herself over a low wall and victory would be his. If only he could keep this up long enough. The springthyme answered his call for now though. This continued for five long minutes.
“What’s the matter? Afraid of my sword? Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he taunted.
Just a little further he thought to himself.
Grace was within inches of the barrier. Suddenly, she stepped backward, onto the lip of the wall and jumped up and over Thom. She turned quickly when she landed and struck him across the back.
“Halt!” yelled Sir Franklin. The judges gathered to confer. They took quite a few minutes, discussing very quietly. Sir Franklin said, “Grace, please come here.”
Grace walked over to the knights. Sir Franklin asked for her sword and she handed it over. He asked for her shield. She hesitated, and he requested more sternly. She finally handed it over. He set the sword against the face of the shield and removed it without issue. He then placed it against the edge and found he was unable to pull the sword away.
“Explain this,” Sir Franklin said to her.
“It’s an alchemical mixture. I applied it to the rim of my shield to catch my opponent’s sword,” Grace sheepishly admitted.
“I see. Please step back to where you were,” Sir Franklin said. The judges resumed their conference. After some minutes, Sir Franklin announced, “Grace wins! Please come retrieve your equipment.”
“The next contestants will be Grace and Adem,” Lady Matilda announced. “We will wait two minutes, per the rules.”
Grace used the time to separate her sword and shield. It was much harder to do by herself, and no one would help her. Her opponent smirked, seeing that she might start at a disadvantage.
“Begin!” announced Sir Patt.
Grace had not yet yanked her sword free. She equipped the shield and hoped to maybe disarm Adem as well. Adem walked over, sword in scabbard. He attempted to repeat Thom’s maneuver, but Grace was ready. She bashed into his hand, causing Adem to scream in pain. He retreated a few steps and drew his sword. He then charged, shield first. Grace rolled out of the way and then resumed trying to pull her sword free. Adem turned tried to rush her again, and again she rolled out of the way. Adem had checked his charge though and quickly turned to strike before she was ready. She blocked, but it threw her off balance. He swung again, knocking her to the ground. She tried to kick his feet, but he hopped back and then struck her in the leg. She yelled in pain. He swung again, but this time she pulled back and regained her footing. She was limping though, and he sought to overpower her again with another powerful swing. She managed to catch his sword on the side of her shield. Adem was not expecting the entire shield to have been encircled with her trickery. She jerked her shield back, pulling the sword from his hand. He lurched forward with it and she smashed his hand for the second time. He cursed her ancestors. Grace managed to push through the pain and was back on both feet equally. She retreated a few feet and attempted to pull Adem’s sword free. All of the rolling had dusted the adhesive, reducing its effect. She managed to pull it free. Now she was armed and he was not. Grace charged, knocking Adem back. She swung at his foot and connected, then jerked the blade up between his legs, causing so much pain that he vomited his potatoes and goat milk from breakfast. Before he could regain his composure, there was a sword at his throat.
“Halt!” called Sir Patt. “Grace wins!”
Thom was glad to have lost to Grace without her resorting to kicking his egg basket. He watched as Adem struggled to recover, and secretly hoped the two of them would fight next to capitalize on the man’s disadvantage. It was not to be, as Lady Matilda called two other names.
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I hope you're enjoying this story. I also have a zombie e-book on Amazon that I'm rather proud of.
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