Chapter 9: The Duel

Nashkell Inn, Sword Coast
Three years earlier…

"If you're g-going to be travelling the realm, you're going to need to know how to f-fight," Khalid told Harrian, glancing critically around the bare room he had been able to acquire, evaluating its suitability for a fencing lesson.

"I avoid open confrontations. Stick to the shadows, hit 'em when they're least expecting it," Corias replied casually. He was perched on a box in the corner, displaying the same dismissive attitude towards Khalid he had all week, idly testing the point of his dagger.

The half-elf fighter sighed. Gorion's ward was proving to be a far bigger handful than he had expected, but Khalid and Jaheira had promised to watch over him, and by the Gods, Khalid did not go back on his promises. "Maybe, but you s-saw what happened yesterday afternoon. There weren't many shadows to h-hide in. All you could d-do was stay back and watch," Khalid finished.

"I dragged you from out of harm's way, didn't I?" Harrian asked haughtily. "You got your helmet knocked off and would have had your head split if I hadn't pulled you out of the way," he pointed out.

Khalid sighed again. Maybe he should have let Jaheira deal with Corias, like she had suggested. But no… it wouldn't be a training session, it would have been a lecture about the balance, which wasn't quite what he was trying to get across. He loved his wife dearly, but she was more druid than fighter.

To be inclined to learn how to fight with a sword to any appropriate degree, Harrian would really have to be impressed with the skills of his tutor. Khalid was good, he knew that. Despite his stutter and slightly jumpy outlook, he was a skilled swordsman and a fine warrior, but Harrian had seen no sign of it. Maybe he should have let Minsc do this session.

That thought gave him more determination to push on, and he picked up one of the wooden swords on the floor, tossing it towards the thief. It clattered noisily on the stone ground, and Corias looked at it as if it was a snake.

Khalid picked a second sword up, and stared at his friend's former ward's face. "Jaheira has all of the g-gold, and if you want to get anywhere, I suggest you p-pick it up and get willing to learn how to f-fight."

"Blackmail," Harrian muttered. It wasn't that he disliked Khalid, it was just that he didn't think the man could fight. He personally had no desire to learn how to sword fight; it wasn't his trade and other members of the party could do it.

"W-watch and learn," Khalid stuttered, the words losing their impact on his speech impediment.

Corias picked up the wooden sword, the expression on his face one the half-elven fighter had seen many times before: 'I'll show this bugger a lesson or two'. Khalid smiled inwardly. He could deal with that.

Harrian lunged sloppily at him, but Khalid side-stepped easily, bringing his sword up and giving it a quick flick that knocked it from the thief's hand, then swung his 'blade' around again to hit him on the rump. A short, sharp shock and a touch of embarrassment might work wonders here.

Corias yelped, jumping a foot in the air, then glowered at Khalid. The half-elf smiled. "Now, are you going to learn, or will I have to hit you again?" Gone was the stutter in the face of such a confrontation.

Harrian pouted a little, but ruefully picked up the wooden sword, the glower fading. "Alright," he muttered gruffly. "Let's get this over and done with."

* *

Copper Coronet
Present Day

Harrian grimaced as the stench of overcooked meat and spilled beer hit his nostrils when he swung the door to the Copper Coronet open. He was looking forward to some lunch and a drink, but he did have some standards for what he ate. Burnt rat did not sit well on his stomach.

Still, the place was relatively clean; no worse than any other tavern he'd seen in his day, and from the throng of people he was sure they'd be able to find some work somewhere. Unsavoury characters galore, and unsavoury characters usually had unsavoury problems that they were willing to pay people like him to fix.

He grinned at the others, then nodded towards the bar, and they started forwards. As they passed a table, however, the man standing at it shifted out a little, and Corias's shoulder knocked into his.

Harrian ignored it and continued until a heavy hand fell on his arm and yanked him around to bring him face to face with one of the aforementioned unsavoury characters who was about half a foot taller than him and clearly very unhappy. "Watch what you're doing, mate," the man muttered dangerously.

Corias resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Sorry," he said, as sincerely as he could muster. He really didn't have the time for this. "I'll be sure to be more careful in the future," he continued, this time unable to stop the sarcasm from slipping in his voice.

Another man shifted from foot to foot. "I think he's taking the piss, Amalas," he grunted uncertainly.

The thief sagged. "No, I'm not taking the piss," he answered wearily. "I just want to go and get a drink and some food, and I happened to run into you." He stared at the hand on his shoulder as if it was soiling him, before carefully removing it. "Good day to you, gentlemen," he declared haughtily, before turning on his heel.

Amalas laughed heartily. "Ooh, look at him, all fancy and kitted up. What do you think you are, boy, one of them adventurers?" He guffawed idiotically, and his two lackeys joined in moronically.

"Actually, I am. Now, bugger off," Harrian snapped, his patience wearing thin. He really didn't want to get into all of this.

"You?" Amalas queried derisively. "You don't look as if you could face a bloody cabbage, let alone the full evil of Amn."

"I've faced things considerably worse than yourself, I'll tell you that for nothing," Corias muttered.

His skin was leathery and pale, that of someone who hadn't seen the light for even longer than you; his clothing beaten and worn, and his eyes… dark and burning, stones set into a finely chiselled face that lit up as he laughed in delight at your pain during the experiments…

Harrian blinked, realising he'd missed Amalas's latest retort, but a warning hand on his arm told him that it was something that would have pissed him off. "I suggest we go," Jaheira murmured, looking at the trio with contempt. "They are not worth the effort."

Corias nodded firmly. "I agree," he said, turning around once more.

"That's it!" Amalas laughed. "Go running off, you sissy-boy. Too afraid to face a real man. Listen to your whore and stay our of our way next time!" His laughter was joined by that of his two lackeys, in an irritating guffaw.

Harrian came to a halt, not turning around until things became silent. Yoshimo swore under his breath in his native language as the thief slowly faced Amalas, his expression emotionless. "What did you call her?"

Amalas smiled belligerently. "Ooh, so there's some backbone there after all. Sounds like you'll be taking me up on that duel, then…?"

Jaheira sighed, placing her hand on her leader's arm once more. "Look, you really shouldn't –"

"Damn right I will," Harrian declared to them both.

* *

"It is always better to wait until they attack you, and then counter it," Khalid said, his voice growing increasingly confident as he involved himself in the lesson. "That way you will see their strengths, their patterns; you will know what they are capable of. You will not be charging blindly into an unknown situation like you did earlier."

He raised the sword into an offensive position, and Harrian clumsily copied it. "I'll be coming at you, this time. Don't worry; I'll hold back. All you have to do is knock my attacks aside. We'll take it from there."

Khalid kept his moves slow, but not patronisingly slow, and Corias seemed quite capable in simple deflection. It was a start; there was talent there to work from. They kept this up for five minutes or so, the half-elf increasing his speed and viciousness as they continued, until Khalid did a lunge forwards, not dissimilar to the one his young friend had done minutes earlier but with a little more grace.

Harrian copied the side-step his tutor had made on that occasion, and clumsily but competently duplicated the twist of the sword that took Khalid's flying out of his hand and clattering against the wooden floor.

The half-elf didn't move, merely smiled at him. "Y-you're not going to hit me on r-rump, now, are you?" he asked cheerfully, the stutter back as the lesson finished, pleased with the progress his student had made – both in skill and psyche.

"The thought had crossed my mind," the thief responded, equally bright as he put his own wooden sword down.

Khalid laughed. "That's enough f-for today," he assured him. "We'll continue this t-tomorrow."

* *

Amalas wielded two swords, which didn't make things easier, but Harrian had been taught well by the best. He might not have been at the forefront of the fighting when it came to a battle, but one-on-one, he was finer than most of his profession. Dual-wielding wasn't a problem.

The stone arena was perfect for this sort of fight – open and with no hidden surprises that could make things difficult. Which meant that Amalas could only take him by surprise with a vicious yet controlled charge forwards, which he did.

Moving more by instinct than consciously, Harrian took the traditional side-step, but Amalas had anticipated such a move, and a scimitar came sweeping across, aimed at his ribcage. Corias flicked his blade upwards to deflect it, then brought the hilt of his sword down on Amalas's back before stepping away.

Outside the arena, Anomen frowned. "By Torm, he had an opening there; why didn't he take it?" he muttered, more to himself than to anybody else, but Jaheira, beside him, overheard the comment and smiled ruefully.

"He is trying not to kill him," she sighed. "And whilst that is a very noble stance to take, it is not so good when his opponent is fully willing to become lethal. It has placed him at an unnecessary disadvantage."

Delryn frowned. "Such benevolence is wasted on a dog like that." There was a silence as they watched the fight. "But he knows how to use a sword, most thankfully."

"He does," Jaheira agreed quietly. "He had a good teacher."

Harrian's holding back and maintaining a defensive position was more out of deference to Amalas's two scimitars rather than following a fighting pattern. Khalid may have been good, but he was very much the old-school swordsmanship; an honourable duel, with the one sword on either side, and if you were in a battle facing vicious opponents, you had someone as big as Minsc next to you to take the brunt of the attack.

Corias took a quick change of plan, stepping forward and swinging in an over arm slash that would have split Amalas's skull had a scimitar not been raised in time. He stepped back in time to parry the blow from the second sword, feeling the effort fighting two blades was taking.

Their blades were locked, and even as his opponent brought his second scimitar up in a slash that would make a mess of his ribs, taking advantage of Harrian's defenceless left side, the thief curled his fist and punched Amalas solidly in the face.

Back outside, Jaheira raised an eyebrow. "Now that, my husband did not teach him," she informed Anomen. The squire nodded, then did a double-take at the word 'husband'. He quietly decided to leave that little note of information for later.

Amalas fell back, through the barrier around the duelling ring and into the main tavern of the Copper Coronet, dropping one of his scimitars as his left hand shot out to grab a table to stop himself from falling entirely.

Harrian leapt out at him, playing time clearly over, and stabbed at the staggering man, who just managed to twist to the side in time to avoid getting skewered on his opponent's blade. Amalas straightened up, recovering balance, then took his scimitar in a two-handed grip before swinging at Corias.

The thief blocked it easily, but the strength of the blow pushed him back and knocked him over a table. He was able to turn it into a roll that got him on his feet quickly, but he had been knocked off balance and Amalas, now going for a strong offence, took advantage of his hurried defensive posture.

He backed off under the blows raining down upon him, until instinct took over and he kicked a stool to the floor. Amalas got his legs tangled up in it, giving Harrian a second's breathing space. Which was enough for him to smash his opponent in the face with his fist once more, knocking him to the floor.

Harrian stood over his prostrate opponent, sword levelled at him. "That… that'll teach you to learn some manners," he panted, getting his breath back, his vision swimming a little from oxygen deprivation.

He was so tired, he didn't respond in time to Anomen's bark of warning. "Behind you!" the cleric yelled as one of Amalas's lackeys stepped up with a short sword, and he leapt over a table, mace upraised, ready to bring it down on the treacherous barfly's head.

The bar exploded into uproar long before he got there.