A Story of Swords, Part 6

Currently in Earphones: Whiskey Supper by The Wicked Tinkers

Sorry, I lied last post. I was too wiped by the end of Thursday to post the next installment of my short story. Then Friday in all of it's tough glory came around. Here's how it went down...

On Wednesday I realized for the first time that the concert conflicted with my work schedule, seeing that I had to play at noon and usually work from 9am-1pm. No big deal, I think, I'll make up the extra hours the next day. The only problem was that my only free hours were between classes during my only break, so my Friday schedule looked a little something like this:

9am - 10am - Music 10 (with listening quiz)
10am - 11am - Classics 1
11am - 1pm - Work
1pm - 2pm - Latin 110N: Ovid
2pm - 3pm - Cicero

Yup, on campus for six hours straight and no sign of a break. I managed to snag a few snacks during work, but I was laggin' pretty bad by the time I got out of Cicero. I spent the next hour at home going "God! Why am I so depressed? And why am I so tired?" Of course, when I finally lurched into the kitchen for a sandwich and got something in my stomach, I felt so much better.

As for this weekend, I'm going to drag myself to the library for some initial research on my Classics 190 paper, then study for two midterms, one in the previously mentioned and one in Classics 1. Thankfully I'm off the hook for Ovid, seeing that I translated twice as much as we went over on Friday: luckily our Prof assigned up to the line where I originally stopped for Monday, so I can coast for the time being.

And now, without much further ado, the next chapter of my Story of Swords. Despite the fact that I initially skipped writing the chapter before this because I wanted to write this one so bad, I'm not sure I'm entirely satisfied with it as it currently stands, even after some initial editing. I will be going over the chapters again later on, but here it is for the time being.

(Oh, and for those of you wondering what the hell Helmrune is talking about when he first speaks in this chapter, I've begun to draft a Chapter 3.5 that delves more into some interaction between him and Touchstone. It'll all make sense in the end, but for now, enjoy the swordplay!)


Chapter 6: Steel and Sweat

The small figure that strode toward Touchstone gradually resolved itself into the figure of Helmrune, the black-hilt of Coinspinner prominent on his hip. Touchstone took a deep breath and released it, loosening Doomgiver and readying himself for what was to come.

The young Lord stopped a few paces from Touchstone and regarded him coldly. “You have a habit of making things difficult, Master Fool. You tell me one thing, and then do another. You make life difficult for Esther. I wonder if it not be better that you leave.”

“I think you’ll find that these complications are more than just my influence, friend,” Touchstone replied, “Besides, there is more to this world than what is within the walls of the Keep.”

Bitterness crept into Helmrune’s voice, “And you would be the one to turn me out? To point me outwards under the guise of wise advice, to turn me away from something I finally found that matters to me?”

“This is not the end of your life, nor should you think it so,” said Touchstone, struggling to find words to appease the young Lord, “Perhaps it would be better to leave things be here, perhaps it would be beneficial to start anew, to find something less complicated.”

“Spare me your sermonizing!” Helmrune cried, ripping Coinspinner out of its scabbard. The meteoric steel rang harshly in tune with his shout. “Too long have I stood silent, fearful of failing. Too long have I let good things pass me by; I will not simply stand and watch while happiness is taken from me again!”

Touchstone grimly drew Doomgiver, the cold sound of the blade sounding an uncomfortable dissonance with the fading ringing of Coinspinner. His anger at the young Lord was paralleled with a great swell of pity, aroused by Helmrune’s pained speech that had so often echoed through Touchstone’s own head.

With that feeling of fellowship strong in his mind, the young Fool didn’t believe the words that came through his mouth. He felt a similar righteous outrage at the doctrine of near-endless patience he was wont to believe in as the young Lord as he said, “We still have time to discover new things. Hastiness can only bring conflict.”

“Fortune favors the brave, my lord,” growled Helmrune, coiling himself to strike, “And I no longer fear to be brave with luck on my side. Luck that your sniveling ‘Justice’ would do well to note!” And with that, the young Lord sprang at Touchstone, Coinspinner at the ready. The last thing Touchstone remembered before Doomgiver cleared his mind for the oncoming fight was that he rather agreed with his opponent, though steel would have to be tested before words could once again be of use.

The Sword of Chance came at him in a simple, but savage, thrust, which he parried to his outside. Touchstone’s mind was ready for the next action, when the young Lord’s momentum accidentally carried him further forward, Coinspinner’s point angling toward his arm. Before he could react, Doomgiver acted for him, extending the parry further outward while the offending point slid harmlessly past Touchstone’s body. Both men, stunned by the swords influence, leaped back out of range. Each regarded the other for a moment, and Touchstone knew that the young Lord, immediately charging at him again, understood The Sword of Chance’s power. If he faltered, even for a moment, the advantage would leave him. In order to have a chance of winning against such a force as Doomgiver, he would need to press his luck.

Helmrune charged again, Coinspinner extended in the same savage thrust. Touchstone knew it to be something more as the point rushed toward his body, and he made as if to parry it in the same manner as before. As he had thought, Helmrune disengaged, circling the tip of Coinspinner around the oncoming edge of Doomgiver, and into the unprotected hole above his moving arm, straight at his chest. Almost as a reflexive afterthought, Touchstone retreated back a step, moving in time with Helmrune’s blade and keeping it a few inches from his chest, simultaneously moving his hand back across his body. Touchstone’s training made him fast, but not fast enough to counter the luck of the Sword of Chance. As the two swordsman moved as one, the young Fool backwards and the young Lord forwards, the tip of Coinspinner grazed Touchstone’s upper arm as he moved his opponent’s blade to his right, away from further harm.

Grimacing, Touchstone planted his feet, preparing for the impact of Helmrune’s charge. Glaring at his opponent, he snapped the wrist of is sword hand down into a more comfortable pronated parry, shoving Coinspinner aside and firmly away from him. Using his momentum as before, the young Lord barreled into the young Fool, knocking his opponent onto his rear despite his good footing. Helmrune had remained standing, and Touchstone watched in horror as he began to lift Coinspinner for a final blow.

However, as the young Lord began to heft his sword into the air, he let out a cry of pain and dropped the point to the ground. At first amazed, but then with growing understanding, Touchstone saw blood bloom on the same part of Helmrune’s arm as his, where Coinspinner had made a lucky cut earlier. Looking down at his own arm, the young Fool saw only rosy flesh, and no cut or scar marred the place where Coinspinner had passed earlier. Doomgiver had delivered justice, as it was wont to.

More out of reflexes than anything else, Touchstone sprang to his feet and lunged, angling the point of Doomgiver low, toward Helmrune’s leg. The young Lord, also reflexively, retreated back a step and parried from the draw, his hand and arm at chest level and his sword pointing straight down, almost locking the young Fool’s blade out. At the last moment, Touchstone circled his sword underneath Helmrune’s defense and angled his blade upward, avoiding the defending sword and catching the young Lord’s left arm with Doomgiver’s point.

They both leapt backwards and paused, recovering breath. Touchstone smiled ruefully at his successful attack, only to realize that the same twisting smile was growing on Helmrune’s face. The young Fool noticed a growing pain in his left arm, and looked down to see that the same wound he had inflicted on the young Lord had appeared on his arm as well. Looking back at Helmrune, Touchstone saw that the spot on his left arm where the Sword of Justice had inflicted a wound was clear and healthy. Doomgiver truly did not discriminate, and the swords wielder realized with growing fear that there was no way to harm his opponent without harming himself. Though he could play a defensive game, he would need to work hard not to counterattack so that the Sword of Justice couldn’t work against him. And if it was blood that Helmrune wanted to quench his anger, he would not get any of Touchstone’s

Whether such a realization concerning the interaction of the sword’s power had occurred to Helmrune, Touchstone couldn’t tell, he only just had time to parry to his inside once again as Coinspinner came edge-wise at his wounded left arm. Stepping forward and moving the two blades away to lock out his opponent, Touchstone grabbed the wrist of Helmrune’s right hand to further prevent him from attacking, and Helmrune did the same to the young Fool’s sword arm.

So locked, Touchstone spoke, breathing heavily, “All is not what it seems, my friend.”

Helmrune, emboldened by Doomgiver’s impartiality and Coinspinner’s luck, laughed. “You hide behind your words as you hide behind your Sword of Power. I wonder if you were not in my position once. Did you hide then as you did now, letting what mattered to you slip away on account of your weak philosophy? Know that I will not make the same mistake.”

“Fool!” Shouted Touchstone, enraged at the young Lords biting insight and mockery, “What do you know of pain? What do you know of denying your own happiness for someone else’s?”

Each young man’s rage feeding his opponents anger, Helmrune bared his teeth and bellowed, “EVERYTHING!”

In unison, they drew back their heads, then slammed them forward, meeting forehead-to-forehead with tremendous force. Stunned, they reeled, releasing their hold on each others hands and staggering backwards.

Recovering, they shared a look that said much. There was respect and new found brotherhood as each began to grasp their similarities on a subject that meant much to them. At the same time, anger still burned for the apparent contempt that each young man had shown for the other, and relishing the refreshing rage that boiled within, they abandoned themselves to their swords and charged at each other anew.

To be continued in Chapter 7

Enough, More Later.
- James