Erivale: The Lost Princess

Chapter 13: Part 2

The clang of two swords meeting was a shrill scream of unbending will. The sharpened metal pushed and fought against one another with deadly precision. These swords were meant to kill and kill they would.

"Very good," Ulric muttered as I blocked one of his ferocious blows. He stepped back, sweat glistening on his skin and causing small curls of white hair to form around his face. His usually pale skin was flushed a gentle pink across his cheeks from the exertion.

My hands felt numb, and my palms tingled from the force they had sustained during sparring with him. We had graduated to using semi-sharp, metal swords in my combat training. Now every time my sword made contact with his sword, the vibrations in the metal shook the bones in my arms and made my hands feel weak.

Even though it was difficult, I was improving, and I was proud of it. I had never been the strongest, or the fastest, or the best at anything athletic. I had always felt awkward and out of place in physical education classes. Now I was finding new strength and grace with my lessons. I wasn't just physically stronger, but I had new a confidence knowing that I could protect and defend myself.

If I ever ran across seedy men in an alley as I did months ago, then I could and would fight back. I even walk through the palace halls with more confidence. Knowing the danger surrounding me didn't seem quite as scary when I could fight back.

As I stared down at the metal weapon in my hand and the faint reflection across the tarnished metal, I wondered about the attack on the rebel compound. The thought was never far from my mind. We wouldn't hear back on the results for another day or so. A page would ride ahead of the battalion to deliver any news.

I, along with everyone here, already knew what the news was, the rebel compound would have been obliterated and the resistance crushed with it. Even so, I was anxious to know the results.

A small splash of water rained down on my face dampening my hair, and the neck of my shirt startled me into awareness. Ulric stood with an arched brow at me and a container of water in his hand.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked, annoyed.

It always seemed that sword fighting turned into an opportunity for Ulric to annoy me as much as possible. He had a different energy to him when he fought. It was a new skip in his step, an extra spark. His eyes seemed brighter and more excited. He loved the feel of a sword in his hands, and it was one of the few times I could see any emotion in him besides brooding angst. I swear, sometimes he was worse than a teenager. Always in the shadows of rooms, arms crossed, and entirely socially unavailable.

"Never let your mind slip around a sword," he said and held his weapon out in front of him, ready for another round.

Before engaging with him, I knelt down to place a hand against the stone floor of the training room. It was harder to feel the potent magic of Erivale's earth through the floor, but it was still there – a tickling brush against my skin.

Part of my training had been working on harnessing the magical energy in tandem with my sword fighting. Every warrior did this to help with their endurance, speed, and strength. Eventually, I will be able to take in the magical energy directly through my feet, even through the barriers of shoes and floors. Expert sword fighters could also absorb magical energy from the wind and air when there was no earth or plant life nearby – say within the upper floors of a palace.

Focusing on the magic within the earth, I imagined it moved into my palm like a river and the energy flooding my body. I suddenly wasn't so tired, and my muscles felt fresh and ready to fight again.

Standing up, I got into my stance and held my sword out protectively in front of myself. Ulric attacked first with a well-aimed overhead swing that would have left a nice dent in my head, even with the blunted sword. I thrust my own blade to intersect his stopping its path, but he swiftly pushed my blade as he moved out of the line of danger, and soon the tip of his sword was aimed at my chest.