The creature was a priest, Garth told himself; he could have little real battle experience. His own greater skill should give him the advantage despite the monster’s longer reach and presumably greater strength.
The black blade whistled; Garth parried the attack, only to find his enemy’s weapon ducking downward unexpectedly, under his own silver blade. He dodged, and escaped injury.
The priest’s grin remained, and Garth knew that the maneuver had not been the luck of a beginner. He made a feeble riposte, which was easily parried.
He felt a thin seep of despair as he reflexively met and countered the reply to his blow. This was not what he wanted. He was weary, his stomach hurt from his wild ride, his hands seemed weak and unfamiliar with scar tissue; this was not how he had wanted to fa
