A Story of Swords, Part 7

Currently in Earphones: George Fenton's score to Deep Blue

Well now, it's certainly been a while since this old chestnut has been wheeled out, hasn't it?

I finally dug back into my documents and found that I indeed had written full drafts of the final two chapters in my old fanfic, and figured I might as well post them in all their clunky and unrefined glory. I mentioned in a previous post concerning this little yarn that I was writing an interstitial character chapter, but I found that I simply couldn't make a full run of it on the single handful of dialog I'd come up with. As such, Chapter 3.5 will probably never see the light of day, so you can check that off your lists.

In any case, here is the final portion of the duel and the aftermath, in this seventh installment (sixth chapter) of my Story of Swords...



Chapter 6: Chance and Doom

The two young men gave themselves over to the power of their swords, swinging at each other without reserve and letting the magical knowledge and ability of the blades take over. Like tides did the powers of the swords flow against each other.

Coinspinner would press the offense, finding a lucky opening and wounding its opponent in a flash of disbelief. However, the Sword of Chance could not defend against the savage backstroke of Doomgiver, and where the power of Coinspinner receded, the Sword of Justice flowed forward, hurling back the injuries from whence they came. Whenever Touchstone lost the small shred of concentration in his reckless abandon, however, his blade would over-extend in its desire to right the wrong and wound his opponent, which then was reflected back at him by the selfsame power.

There was still a savage grace to their swordplay, their attacks and defenses becoming wide and exaggerated as their energy began to be depleted. Small wounds appeared on each swordsman as one of the swords, then the other temporarily gained the upper hand. After a particularly fierce exchange, the two opponents staggered backward and stopped, both hunched forward and breathing hard with the effort.

“Why!” panted the young lord, “Why is Doomgiver not ending me?”

“You hold the Sword of Chance, and I the Sword of Justice,” rasped Touchstone, “Either your luck is stronger than you think, or Doomgiver recognizes our feud as having no clear victim, or maybe both are true. All I know is that I see no end to this.”

“I’ll end this now!” grated Helmrune, and charged at Touchstone with his sword raised in both hands, aiming a savage downward cut at his opponents head. The young fool had time to bring his sword up and slash down at a slight angle to intercept the young Lord’s blade. The two god-forged swords clashed and locked, the two combatants snarling wordlessly over the clenched blades. Then, in pure luck, Touchstone lost his footing and tumbled backwards, landing flat on his back. As he fell, he noticed Helmrune had, in a stroke of justice, tripped in a similar fashion and likewise landed supine. Both men lay there, exhausted with the effort and accumulated wounds of their duel.

“Foolishness!”

Both young men heard the grunted word, half-spoken aloud and half-spoken softly. Each turned their head towards its origin and found Lord and Lady Ginndem standing nearby with Esther looking on from within her mother’s embrace. The Fool and the young Lord had been so absorbed in their duel that they had hardly noticed their approach.

“Foolishness!” repeated Lord Ginndem, “to see two young idiots hacking madly at each other with perhaps the most dangerous weapons to ever grace this land.”

“But…I…didn’t….” began Touchstone weakly, but was interrupted by another grunt for the Lord.

“Fah! Whatever you did or did not do doesn’t change the recklessness I saw you two wallowing in.” The young Fool thought he caught pity softening Lord Ginndem’s eyes as he approached the two fallen combatants and looked at them in turn, but it was gone in a flash. The Lord’s mouth was set in a hard line and a mixture of annoyance and anger radiated from his features.

Seeing enough, Lady Ginndem released Esther and moved forward. She appraised both of the young men and turned toward her husband, “Your displeasure notwithstanding, My Lord, these young men need rest and care. Though they have made some foolish choices, have they lost the opportunity to recover in our halls once more?”

Lord Ginndem sighed, but nodded and replied, “They haven’t, but I fear that they need to leave and grow more before they can receive a warm welcome again.” He turned to return to the Keep, while Esther and Lady Ginndem took turns in setting Helmrune and Touchstone on their feet.

Esther came to the young Fool first, but she only wordlessly bound his more major wounds with strips of cloth torn from her outer garments. He didn’t try to explain the circumstances of the duel, knowing that he would look more the fool if he did, but merely kept his eyes on the ground in shame, at both Lord Ginndem’s words and the uncomfortable silence that emanated from Esther. The one time he did look up to meet her gaze, he saw tears glistening in the corner of her eyes, and a blend of fear and sympathy widened her eyes and drew her eyebrows together. She moved away to tend to Helmrune, and Touchstone was almost relieved to hear the soothing litany of reassurances that poured forth from Lady Ginndem.

“Don’t you mind what the Lord said there; you’re not the first boy I’ve seen do foolish things when a girl is concerned. And give my daughter some time to recover: she’s never seen how dangerous such confrontations can be. Oh, these wounds are nothing serious, you’ll recover quickly, very lucky of you and the young Lord to get by with only minor cuts and punctures. We’ll need to sew a few of them up, but you’ll be back on your feet in no time. Though my husband might take a while to warm up to you again, and you would probably do well to find another place of lodging, I have seen that you’re good at heart. You’ll always get warm food and a clean bed from me if or when you return. But don’t worry about all that now, you need rest and time to heal, let’s get you back to the Keep.”

Touchstone stood with the help of Lady Ginndem, and sheathed Doomgiver into the scabbard on his left side. He turned to look at Helmrune, who was likewise being helped up by Esther, and who groped around to find Coinspinner. Finding that the blade had disappeared from his hand, bitter tears began to streak down the young Lord’s face. Esther, her sympathy winning over her fear that she likewise had for him, threw her arms around Helmrune, but he remained oblivious as he leaned against her for support. Touchstone barely had the energy to ponder his loss as he was helped to the Keep, and only had time to appreciate the circularity of being placed in the same bed that he recovered in when he had first arrived, for he knew that this was the last night he would be spending with the Ginndem Clan.

He didn’t see any of Esther as he was attended during the evening by Lady Ginndem, who washed his wounds and brought him food. Doomgiver had done a good job of countering Coinspinner, as the wounds he received were small and healed quickly. As he lay in bed, he could imagine how Helmrune and Esther were most likely being drawn closer together through the aftermath, he in his grief finally opening up to her and she thus finding out his good qualities. The young Lord was a good man, Touchstone finally admitted to himself, although bitterly, and Esther would make a good choice in choosing him.


Enough, More Later.
- James