The Severaine

Chapter Ten The Cursed Blades-3

Around them the marsh lay almost silent, even the cricket chorus and frog song hushed by the building tension as the two figures not only watched their opponent, but absorbed the details of their surroundings.

Ashley was the first to advance. He drew his short swords and the battle began.

He moved with a speed unexpected from his build. The first strike ringing against her enchanted blade as the second sent a burning pain through her arm. She had barely moved in time to prevent the thrust from severing the tendons as had clearly been his intention. The power behind the blow saw her footing slide.

She moved, dodging and blocking a rapid succession of strikes, from midriff to head, head to leg, all targeting vital points. Despite her renowned skill she struggled to judge his attacks, his style and technique, his speed and execution of moves keeping her off balance, forcing her backwards as she parried. She spun her sword, the tip of her blade moving in time to deflect the second, somehow faster, strike but her movements saw her topple, her feet trapped by the sucking bog. She raised her sword, blocking his relentless assault, her weapon sliding from her grasp as she was forced to roll aside to evade the second.

Her hands fumbled in the mud, seizing one of the marker stones barely in time to prevent his next blow from connecting. She moved again, reclaiming both her weapon and footing.

It was then the secret of his technique was revealed, the reason behind why she exhausted herself to barely prevent the second blade from striking her. It was a subtle difference, and one which would see many seasoned warriors fall to him. The second blade held in his off-hand was at least an inch, perhaps two, shorter than the one held in his main hand, thus its speed, its precision, was different to that she had anticipated on blocking the first.

He struck out, both blades intercepted, quickly she adjusted her angle rotating her weapon, stepping forwards to push the blocked blades aside rendering him defenceless. She punched him squarely in the jaw, her hand feeling the full force of contact. A contact which given his build did little but surprise him. He jumped backwards, manoeuvring his weapons within his hands, sliding the two hilts together to forge a new one.

The weapon itself was similar to a double-bladed polearm, the hilt on the off-hand weapon being longer than that on the first meant the hilts covered a wide area giving it the same adaptability. The off-hand guard, slid to secure the join between the two as his off-hand grip showed his mastery of half-swording. All this was done in a matter of seconds as he had dodged back following her strike. His fluid actions showing his well-practised hand.

Marise's blows struck in quick succession as he spun his weapon effortlessly to intercept her at each turn. She forced him toward the carriage, knowing if she could pin him there he would have no manoeuvrability. He ducked, severing the horses from the carriage, the beasts whinnied, charging through them without a thought as they made their way from the marshes. Their hooves further loosening the damp terrain.

He slashed out towards her leg, and as her own blade sliced his side as the commitment to the blow had left him open. She ducked his failed attempt to guard as it became another strike aimed towards her. He was fast, dangerous, there was no way she could allow him to remain on the offensive. His speed with the weapon was second only to Elly's, and the victor of this style of fighting would be decided in a battle of stamina rather than a battle of skill. There were only a limited number of moves he could make, but his quick reactions, the speed of two blades against her one, made it an exhausting combination.

He spun his weapon, his blades blocking and striking against each of her advances. Seeing a brief opening reveal itself she adopted her stance, swinging her sword downward towards his exposed head, he smiled as she took the bait.

He blocked her, thrusting up, a second blow on the hilt of her sword forcing it above her head, he moved quickly, striking forwards, his s***h sailed past her midriff as she dodged effortlessly, as if she had been anticipating his move. He saw her smile, her own sword swinging down towards his head in what would be a fatal blow. He pushed himself backwards sliding to his knees bringing his weapon to guard. Her strike sliced cleanly through the hilts, and a flick of her wrist saw his shorter section discarded as he jumped to his feet. She followed through with her whole body, all her power behind the strike, their swords crossed barely an inch before his face.

“Give up,” she commanded through gritted teeth as she tried to outmatch him in strength.

“Never.”

His hand pushed against his blade, thrusting his remaining sword against hers before distancing himself quickly. He was impressed by her skill. She was a girl, a woman, barely in her teens yet her mastery of this terrain sung of the expert training she had received. She could lead armies, she could win wars. This young woman, at some point, had clearly been marked by Ares. He wondered if this god enjoyed watching two of his children in such heated combat, after all he too had been gifted by the God of War.

Marise examined him, taking their moment of separation to recharge, if only briefly. He was a seasoned warrior, there was no doubt about it, to master these weapons so fully he was beyond even her skill, but she only needed to know one. She had eventually forced him into her preferred style, a single weapon. Its long hilt, from the way she had severed the weapons, created a sword almost of equal length to her own. Sword to sword combat, this was the fighting she excelled in and, although she did not doubt it was by far his most skilled weapon, she had only to discover the weakness in his technique and the battle would be over. She did not doubt her ability to land the final blow.

He charged, his footing on the sodden terrain unhindered as he closed the distance, the sword raised bringing the power of the momentum with his opening strike. Marise ducked, striking out as his blow sailed above her head. He snapped his arm backwards, the blow faster than her own as his elbow struck her clean in the jaw, knocking her from her feet. She swept out with her legs, her attempt to stumble him failed as he stood firm, her momentum saw her rise behind him, her blow intercepted.

Their battle raged on, parries and thrusts, all blocked and ricocheted as both gained and lost ground. Elly had always warned her when skill was equal the stronger of the opponents would win, and he was clearly strong, and skilled. Her arms moved autonomously to intercept and strike, all the time looking for a weakness to exploit.

It was an opening almost impossible to see. He had trained in fighting since before she had even walked the land. He was skilled, but despite all his years of training, Marise had one advantage over him. She had been trained by Elly, a woman of remarkable ability and talent. A person who was perhaps the finest warrior to ever walk the planet.

Elly had taught her to analyse and watch her opponent, and this was something he was not doing to his fullest potential. She saw his opening briefly as he switched from defence to offence to reclaim the ground she had gained just moments before. She waited, forcing him back on defensive then, before giving him the chance to strike, she struck first. Her sword sliced across his leg leaving only a superficial wound as her swing followed through to knock his hilt. As he raised his sword the weapon flew from his grasp, she turned the blade to rest at his throat, he hadn't realised she had pushed him toward the carriage, not until he attempted to retreat backward and felt its pressure upon his back.

“Where is the scale?” she asked coldly.

“It's not here.”

“A decoy?”

“By now it's already passed through Knightsbridge.” He paused wondering why she had yet to deal the final blow, then he realised, although they fought on opposite sides, she too upheld the code, she was awaiting his final request. “Will you honour my final request. Will you see the envelope in my right pocket reaches the Plexus so it may find my family?” Marise reached for the pocket, her fingers almost touching the beaten leather before she hesitated.

“Retire,” she commanded, withdrawing both her hand and weapon.

“Excuse me?” he questioned, unsure if he had truly heard these words.

“Retire, you have been defeated. Retire and you can return to your family.” He looked at her in surprise, as she gathered his weapons to place them within her own belt.

“But why?” He didn't understand, was this not Marise Shi, a person who knew no concept of mercy, a person who none faced and lived? He knew it was her, so why was she sparing him?

“What would I gain from killing you now?” She fastened her hilt to the sheath. It was clear she did not care to disclose the real reason. “I do not wish to be indebted to your family, but should I hear of you again, yours will not be the only blood I shed.” With that final warning she began to walk away.

“Marise.” She stopped as he called to her. “In just over a year, the scale will return to its owner's mansion, but I don't know its location.” Marise smiled secretly and walked away. Ashley moved slowly, his legs trembling as he pulled himself inside the carriage to rest.

The marsh was unforgiving to sound, everything could be heard over its stillness despite the night chorus once more echoing over the misty terrain. Given how close the voices sounded it seemed Marise had not come alone. Someone had been watching them from the shadows.

“It was a trap,” the stranger's voice confirmed, there was something familiar, almost authoritarian about it. These were the last words he heard before his exhaustion took him, the next time his eyes opened it was daylight…

…Ashley shifted in his chair, relaxing slightly having finished his tale.

“It's amazing how sound carries over the marshes… but you know, I was glad to have my life. There are not many who cross her path and live.” He looked to the swords before Eiji. He had been training with them a long time before he encountered her, yet for some reason that night he had taken his trusty old blades, as if falling back into past habits. When he saw who it was he faced, feeling the grip of his familiar weapons had brought comfort. In a fight such as that one, he could not have afforded the additional strain fighting with those weapons caused.

“We know.” Daniel sighed. The mention of Marise's name had struck another unexpected blow. He felt the lump start to form in his throat as he swallowed.

“You've met her?” Even Ashley could not hide his surprise at the thought of three such youths passing Marise's path and surviving. It was only by chance he himself had lived. To this day, he could not understand why.

“At Cardow's place, when they rescued me,” Chrissie responded, recalling the events.

“No, we knew her from before that,” Eiji advised quietly, looking to Daniel whose eyes now bore into the half full wooden bowl of stew as he tried to force back the threat of tears.

“Really?” Ashley questioned. “I must say, I would like to hear more. How did people such as yourselves found your paths crossing with one such as her?”