Wil Ogden - The Nightstone

The table set for them to pick at looked lavish compared to what Pantros usually considered food. Various shellfish, sliced meat and cheeses were piled on platters. Pitchers of beer and at least three varieties of fruit juice were also available. Pantros did what any sixteen-year-old would do: he ate lots of everything. Bryan ate more.

After all the other entertainers had been out for their shows, Pantros and Bryan were summoned.

“One last thing before we start,” Pantros said. “Neither of us should speak.”

Bryan nodded.

The host brought them to the front courtyard where magically glowing glass balls which hovered a few yards above had altered the glow to a very celebratory violet. An Abvi woman with golden blonde hair and dark ruby-like eyes sat in a chair at the center of a raised table. Gifts, some opened to reveal silken garments or semi-precious jewelry, covered the table.

“What are you waiting for?” the Abvi's voice glided across the table. “Show me something fun for my hundredth birthday.”

Pantros smiled and elbowed Bryan in the kidney. Reaching out, he grabbed the cap of a nearby servant and tossed it into the air. Bryan caught the felt cap and momentarily plopped it on top of his cap until the servant lunged after him. Given the difference in height, the lunge looked more like a hop and brought a chuckle from some members of the crowd. Just as the servant got close, Bryan flicked the hat to Pantros, who had moved into the crowd. They tossed the cap back and forth, playing keep away until the servant started to look frustrated. Pantros then plopped the cap on top of the nearest noble's head and gracefully whirled around the noble, ending up behind the noble and wearing the noble's cape. The noble laughed and reached for the cape but Pantros cartwheeled away, disappearing into the crowd.

A moment later a drink servant walked through the party wearing the noble's cape. Bryan had, meanwhile, procured an ornamental mirrored glass ball from the banquet table and was lobbing it from hand to hand. He stumbled and the orb went flying into the crowd where Pantros caught it and immediately tossed it back. Terse gasps told Pantros that crowd was on edge, watching the fragile glass fly above the flagstones of the courtyard. At one time Pantros nearly dropped it only to kick it back to Bryan just before it would have shattered on the stones. The ball was soon exchanged for whipped-icing filled pastries, which sent the nobles scurrying off to the edges, not wanting to get the delicious cream on their silk gowns. Bryan caught one toss of a pastry on the end of a decorative skewer, and the food tossing had progressed to sharp implements. The crowd was rapt as they tossed a carving knife and fork back and forth.

Bryan carefully edged near a pair of guards and as Pantros tossed the knife a last time, Bryan quickly drew one of the guards’ swords and knocked the airborne knife aside where it stuck into the leg of the banquet table. Bryan dropped the fork from his other hand onto the table and tossed the sword, end over end at Pantros. Pantros stepped aside, reaching out just to catch the hilt of the weapon as it flew by. He spun around to face his friend who had now drawn the other guard’s sword and was moving towards him rapidly. Pantros ran forward meeting the charge. They exchanged swings and parries for only a few seconds before Pantros rolled under a swing to come to his feet and smack Bryan's rear with the flat of the blade. He quickly parried Bryan's clumsy return shot as the larger man spun back to face his friend. Bryan threw a series of wide horizontal swings. Pantros ducked the first, jumped over the second, ducked the fourth then leapt into an airborne summersault over the fourth. Pantros retaliated with an overhead swing that Bryan caught at his hilt. Pantros pressed his blade down, but the larger man laughed and threw Pantros back, where he fell sprawled to the flagstones. Hopping to his feet, Pantros beckoned Bryan to come at him. Bryan charged wildly, sword high in the air. Pantros stepped aside at the last minute spinning his leg back and sweeping Bryan off his feet. Bryan flipped forward, rolling in the air, but landing on his rear. The audience broke into applause. Pantros helped Bryan to his feet then bowed along with his friend.

An Abvi in a black and red silk doublet stepped out of the crowd. “Well done,” The Abvi praised. “I have seen staged swordplay before and that was not the same.”

Bryan and Pantros looked at each other and shrugged.

“I mean, in plays and such when there is swordplay, each move is planned, the entire fight is a step by step reenactment,” the Abvi explained. “The way you moved was not choreographed. The way your eyes watched each other, you were looking for hints as to what would your opponent do next.”

“Well, this is our first time,” Bryan admitted.

“Indeed,” The Abvi nodded, looking impressed. “And I could also tell that the larger one is the better swordsman, though your show would outwardly imply otherwise. Where did you learn the art of swordplay?”

“My father taught me,” Bryan told the Abvi, “before mother left and he crawled into a barrel of rum.”

“Your father must have been very good when he was sober,” the Abvi commented.

“My father is Captain Aaron,” Bryan mentioned. “He is very good when he is drunk. When he is sober, he is the best.”

“I know him,” the Abvi said. “I am Lord Gliyn Dane, Lord of the House of Dane. He sailed for Uytlin, did he not?”

“Yes,” Bryan nodded.

“Captain Aaron Piratesbane,” Dane pondered. “He taught me a good bit about cutlass fighting. It was from him that I learned that sailors prefer a curved blade because it will cut through ropes easier. The curve forces a rope to run along the edge as the blade passes through, giving a cutting more than a chopping effect.”

“He told me that, too,” Bryan recalled. “I understand they work in a similar fashion against flesh.”

“I would like to see how good you really are.” Dane smiled. “Would you duel me? Just to first blood, and I will have an excellent healer nearby. The danger will be minimal.”

“I don't see why not,” Bryan agreed. “Is there a wager?”

Dane laughed. “No, no wager. I won't take the four silver coins you earned tonight.”

“You are that good?” Bryan asked.

Slipping a violet trimmed black glove onto his sword hand, the Abvi just smiled at Bryan. “Go into the front hall, to the right is my library there are several swords displayed on the walls. Pick one that you are most comfortable with and meet me out here.

Bryan nodded and walked into the manse, emerging a moment later with a huge seven-foot long greatsword over his shoulder. The blade was wide and heavy and made of polished steel and the hilt seemed made of silvery metal, which had a little too much luster. It looked like silver under the thinnest layer of glass.

“I should have guessed.” Dane chuckled as he drew his own sword from his hip. His was a slender Abvi bastard sword of dark steel but a highly polished golden hilt and pommel. “Begin when you are ready.”

“Okay.” Bryan swung his blade, forcing Dane to step back, but the Abvi lord quickly bounced forward again with a thrust towards Bryans chest. Bryan flipped the heavy blade around with one hand, knocking the thrust aside and riposted with a slash towards Dane's thigh. In seconds they were locked in a frenzy of slashes and parries, leaving a screaming constant ring of steel in the air. Periodically the blades would lock and Dane would throw himself back or be thrown by Bryan and they would charge each other and the ring would start again.

As everyone at the party clamored for a better view of the fight, Pantros resisted the urge to increase his collection of jewelry as the fight continued. Bryan had used his father’s name, which made them traceable if anything went missing.