Wattpad Block Party - Summer Edition III (August 2017)

britainkalai Presents: Sneak Peek at the 1st Ch. of "The Emberstone Chronicles"

The cold air rang with the sharp sound of steel meeting steel, followed by cheers and groans from the watching knights. Julienne felt a drop of sweat roll down the side of her forehead, left arm trembling slightly as she held her blade above her head in a two-handed parry. The vibration caused a stab of pain, and Julienne bit her lip. That wound is deeper than I thought. I need to end this quickly.

Crouching slightly, she ducked under Carter's right arm and whipped her blade down to his torso as she passed, skirt swirling against the top of her boots. Carter leaned back quickly and stepped to the left. Her blade slashed through the cloth of his shirt, but did not hit him. Julienne turned quickly, broadsword held in front of her. She shook her head a little, trying to clear her vision, heart pounding and a warm trickle of blood running down underneath her sleeve. Sparring with sharpened blades and no protective gear was dangerous, but this was the way she preferred it. I cannot learn to rely on protection I will not have if I am ever attacked. No one wears a mail shirt under a silk gown.

Carter stood across from her, grinning broadly and watching for her next move. Sparring with Carter was always a challenge, no matter what Julienne chose to wear. His height and weight gave him a distinct advantage against her more slender build. He knew that if he could force her to parry a repeated barrage of strong strikes, she would tire more quickly than he would. It was up to her to keep the fight moving around the sparring ground, force Carter to chase her and keep him from landing those strong blows.

Carter had been her sparring partner since she was a youth. As the years passed, it had become harder for either of them to gain an advantage, the two learning one another's styles so well that these little matches stretched longer and longer each time. Today's match had already surpassed twenty minutes. If one of them did not win soon, the Master-at-Arms would call the match a draw. An unacceptable alternative, of course.

"Do you wish to call the match? You appear to be fatigued, My Lady," Carter said, his tone jovial.

"Certainly not," Julienne said even as she blinked to clear her vision again. "Do you think I wish to be the laughing stock of the feast tonight?" She lunged forward suddenly, swinging her sword in a two-handed strike to her left. Carter parried, and they exchanged a fast series of blows with one another, more akin to fencing than broadsword fighting.

With each strike, Julienne felt another jolt of pain in her left arm. She had to keep him moving, find a way to shorten his strike radius. Carter's long arms let him make full use of his strength as he brought the blade down toward her again. Restrict his arm movements or knock him down and remove his height advantage. It is the only way to best him. She could not hope to beat him in a straight contest of endurance.

The men of her father's guard were still calling out advice and encouragement, some for her and some for Carter. These bouts always drew a crowd; the men seemed to find it highly entertaining to watch their best fighter be beaten by their lord's daughter. They approve of my training because it makes their task easier. A Baron's daughter who could protect herself needed less looking after.

"Watch him, My Lady!" one of the men called out. Julienne blinked yet again, and realized what the call meant; Carter was attempting to back her into the corner between the castle wall and the steps leading to the wall walk. A flash of red caught her eye; her sleeve was looking rather drenched. Time for something more dramatic.

Julienne allowed herself to be pushed slowly backward, letting some of her fatigue show through. There was a trick she had been wanting to try, but fooling Carter took careful planning, and it would only work if she could truly surprise him.

Carter continued his heavy blows, unrelenting even in the face of her supposed weakening. He knows me too well, Julienne thought, gritting her teeth. He knows I feign exhaustion to put him off his guard. Honestly, she was surprised Carter had not called the match himself long ago. He had called matches for smaller wounds than this. Likely he does not realize this one is serious. Not that she wanted the match called; she had labored hard to win even the small victory of fighting with true blades. Carter was a man of honor, and his Oaths of Knighthood would not allow him to completely ignore that he was sparring with the daughter and heir of his liege lord. If she allowed him to call matches for every injury, he would likely refuse to continue her training altogether.