Sir
Rodney stood at the edge of the woods. He gazed into the clearing, his eyes
taking in every detail of the low hill. The grass was knee high and very green.
At the top of the hill, stones were arrayed in a circle around the peak. This
circle of stones was a sacred place to Sir Rodney. It was where his mother and
father had exchanged vows, and where his father’s funeral pyre had been built. And
today, it was where he would finally bring honor back to his family’s name.
On the
far side of the hill, he knew another man waited on the edge of the woods. Sir
Malcom, though he did not deserve the title. The scallywag had murdered his
father and laid the blame at Sir Rodney’s feet. He had been tried as a
kinslayer, and though he had not been found guilty, the shame had driven him
from his home. Malcom then took his father’s land and his ancestral home. Today,
Sir Rodney had returned to his home, to this sacred hill. Today he would
finally see justice.
Sir
Rodney strode out into the sunlight. He drew his sword as he walked up the
hill. The cool weight of the hilt felt good in his hands. As he reached the
top, he saw a flutter of purple and knew that Sir Malcom was making his way out
of the woods as well. The other knight already had his sword drawn. Sir Malcom
approached without a word. When he reached the opposite edge of the stone
circle, he paused, looking at Sir Rodney with eyes black with hate and disdain.
Sir Rodney raised his blade to a defensive position, and began a slow advance
towards his mortal enemy.
The two
circled each other for several moments. Then Sir Malcom brought his sword up
above his head, and then down with a vicious slash aimed at Rodney’s left arm.
Sir Rodney deflected the blow with the edge of his blade and countered with a quick
slash at his foe’s shoulder. Malcom stepped to the side, and Sir Rodney’s blade
met only air. Malcom’s next blow was aimed at Rodney’s legs. Always his weakest
point, Sir Rodney jumped back and brought his sword down to protect his legs.
This caused him to be slightly off balance, and though he did block the initial
blow, Malcom had time to bring his sword around, and cut deeply into Rodney’s
left arm.
Rodney
cried out as fire shot up his arm. He could no longer hold his sword with both
hands, so he shifted his left foot behind him, and held his sword in front of
him, now with only his right hand. The smirk on Sir Malcom’s face was
premature, however, as Sir Rodney pushed off with his left foot, and delivered
a fast and deep thrust to the smirking knight’s thigh. He fell to his knees and
screamed his surprise and rage. Sir Rodney jumped back out of reach. The two
glared at each other, catching their breath. After a moment, Sir Rodney took a
deep breath, and his face hardened. The muscles in his legs knotted and
propelled him in a mighty lunge at his enemy. Sir Malcom brought up his sword
to deflect the thrust, but Sir Rodney was already pulling his sword up and over
that of Sir Malcom. He danced to one side and past Sir Malcom, bringing his
sword down behind him. His blade cut deeply into Sir Malcom’s back. His father’s
killer gurgled, and fell slowly onto his face. Dead.
******************************************************
John
turned around and laughed. “Now that was a good round!”
Steve
rolled over, his “sword” lying on the ground next to him. It was a PVC pipe
with foam glued to it forming a “blade” and tape wrapped around the base
forming a “hilt.” “I thought I had you at the end there!”
John
held out his hand and helped Steve to his feet. The two walked to one edge of
the stone circle, and sat down to rest.
After five minutes or so, John
picked up his sword. “Shall we go again?”
“But of course, good sir!” Steve
shouted in a bad imitation of a British accent.
Steve walked over to where he had
left his sword on the ground, and the two walked back to opposite edges of the
stone circle. They saluted each other with their blades of foam, and began to
circle once more.
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