Duel

He was wearing a leather padded tunic and trousers, as well as a metal mask tied onto his head by a leather strand. He had purchased the mask from the town armory and made the body armor himself. He wielded a wooden sword with a leather handle only a hand’s length in his right hand. The blade was flat and double edged, although the edges were rounded considerably . On his left arm he wore a circular shield that had a radius of about half Rylan's height. The center of the shield had a silver metal plate to protect from any sudden thrusts. Michael had the same attire, except a bit larger for his amplified size. Rylan nodded, signifying he was ready to begin the duel.

They circled each other slowly, knees bent and ready for any sudden movement. Michael suddenly lunged forward, sword straight ahead of him for a jab into Rylan’s ribs. Rylan was ready for the attack, he knocked the sword aside with his shield and attempted to swipe him in his side, but Michael’s shield was already there. Michael then took a step back and they resumed circling. Cheers and jeers could be heard from rowdy village bypassers.

Michael’s eyes squinted in what looked like a grin, and Rylan returned it. This time Rylan was the first to attack. He pulled back his shield and attempted to hit Michael’s left hip. Michael quickly parried, knocking Rylan’s sword aside with his own, and striking his right arm.

Rylan winced at the blow, knowing it would be a bruise tomorrow. Using his pain and faking anger, he began a flurry of blows against his opponent. Most were blocked by sword and shield, but Rylan’s speed was too overwhelming. A score of blows landed themselves upon Michael’s left shoulder, right hip, right knee, and all topped off by a bruising to the ribs. Michael stumbled backwards a few paces, trying to regain his breath. Rylan hoped he would step out of the large wooden ring that jutted out a couple inches from the ground, the ring that signified the bounds of the duel grounds. Rylan was quickly disappointed when Michael stopped one step away from the wood.

“Go for it, Rylan!” Shouted Morzan the smith, startling his wife who was standing right next to him. Rylan stood his ground and watched Michael recover. He was not about to shove an opponent out of the ring when he was weak with pain. Michael's eyes suddenly snapped up to Rylan’s, a mirthless anger burning within them. Michael jumped up and rushed Rylan, covering the distance between them in two bounds. He rammed Rylan roughly, Shields clashing and banging. Rylan fell on his back, the air in his stomach leaving with a whoosh. Michael had already abandoned his sword, he was now focused on throwing Rylan out of the ring. Rylan cast his own sword aside, a difficult thing with a person trying to pick you up. Refilling his lungs, he shoved his own shield into Michael’s stomach, hopefully stunning him. The shield succeeded in winding him, and during the small lapse in Michael’s concentration, Rylan rolled away from under Michael and retrieved his sword.

Michael turned to Rylan, his eyes no longer burning with anger, but a desire to simply win. They ran towards each other with their shields forward in a dangerous game of chicken. The shields rang loudly as they collided, and both of the opponents grunted with the impact. Rylan and Michael pushed forward with all their strength, grunting and struggling all the way. Michael soon proved to be the stronger combatant as he forced Rylan a step toward the ring, then another, and another. Rylan started to panic. He already could have won, and didn’t want to lose after he had put so much effort into beating his opponent. He began to search Michael for any weakness, anything he could use against him. He couldn’t find anything, and he was running out of time. Sweat glistened on both their foreheads with the stress of the match. As a breeze flew from the east, Rylan noticed he still had something Michael didn’t. His grip tightened on his sword as he mapped his next move. Deciding on a course of action, he executed his plan.

Only one step away from the ring, Rylan yelled a wordless exclamation. The sudden noise distracted Michael, giving Rylan an opportunity to strike. Rylan ferociously swatted Michael’s left knee, earning a sympathy inducing yelp. As Michael grabbed his knee, Rylan dropped both his sword and shield, and grabbed the back of his opponent's leather armor. Goading his arm and back muscles to their fullest potential, he threw Michael out of the ring. Michael grunted as he hit the ground. He put his arms under himself and tried to get up once, twice, then he collapsed onto the dirt.