Davrag Joris did well to hide his cruel smirk as he swept through the
streets, black cloak wrapped tightly around his slim form. He had already
decided not to tell Jald about what had transpired...the Manticore would
obviously not be too pleased about his taunting of Jald and Kalis's 'star
pupil.' Davrag sneered at the thought.
They all feared Jald...all those on the streets. Jald's reputation spread throughout the cities and the nations, pockets were emptied to buy the services of the ferret sword master. Those who had earned marks from those they had wronged trembled in fear of a visit from the black shadow of death that was Jald Nightson.
Do they not know it is Davrag Joris they should fear? Davrag let a rare snarl cross his features, sharpened fangs clenching tightly as his paws as they touched the hilts of his swords. He who slew Jald Nightson, in essence, gained credit for all those Jald had slain. With one swing of a sword or thrust of a hidden dagger, one could claim a reputation throughout the entire continent!
But Jald was the best for a reason, Davrag, though he hid it under his flamboyant and cocky air, would never willingly face Jald in a fight. Davrag was fast, that was true, but Jald had superior skill. Davrag had seen the ferret fight several times and knew, for all his boastings and taunting, that Jald would cut him down...still, one could dream, the same as Davrag could dream of the fight with Aleran Nightblade, a fight that could never occur. Davrag always loved testing his skills, pushing his limits and slaying those of lesser skill...and greater skill too, Davrag considered fair fights boring against those of greater skill. Jald, however, had been trained in the military and knew how to watch for and counter means both fair and foul.
Jald had his uses, that was true, and Davrag firmly intended to end the ferret's life once their little job and the ferret's uses were finished. Davrag stood to gain no matter who won the final battle between Vandashira and Jald, or perhaps the young ermine Eroket.
Perhaps Jald or Eroket would win the final confrontation or perhaps Vandashira would...and then weakened and exhausted they'd fall easy prey to Davrag's swords. Almost a shame, Davrag's competitive instinct would have loved a chance to test his combat skills against Jald and Eroket's, but perhaps the young ermine wasn't completely out of the question. But no matter how this worked out, Davrag was probably coming back a happy, rich and famous stoat.
No need to elaborate on how any of that little trio had really died, was there?
***
Jald rubbed a dark furred paw against his temples, pressing his cloak to his forehead to clear away the thin sheen of sweat that had appeared on his brow.
Shirtless, wrapped tightly in his green cloak and his sword was just out of reach, at the Academy, such carelessness would have merited a flogging.
Jald placed himself within his sword's reach, laying a paw on the familiar hilt protectively. This blade was an extension of himself, what he had lived by for so many years.
"Evening, Jald..."
"Davrag..." Davrag appeared from the shadows, crouching by the fire, his handsome face emotionless, amber eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"How'd your little scouting expedition go?" Jald queried, Davrag shrugged once, rising to his feet.
"Fine as can be expected...turns out dear Eroket is indeed on our hunt as well..." He grinned secretly, seeing Jald flinch slightly at the mention of Eroket's name.
"He hates me...rightfully so..." Jald growled as he rose to his feet, emerald eyes narrowing upon Davrag's face, holding the stoat fast in their gaze.
Davrag smiled and took a step back, out of sword range. "My, my...you're very restless tonight, eh?"
"You could say that," Jald replied with a trace of a smile, sword tip digging into the ground.
"Well, then, Jald, what say we make some sport of our own?" Davrag grinned, snapping both blades from their sheaths.
Jald stared for a moment before a slow grin spread across his face, revealing his sharp teeth; this was just the exercise he needed this night, the perfect way to forget his dream. Before he knew it, his sword was up at the ready.
Davrag struck first, blades a whirling storm of motion, finding his blades inexplicably parried by one sword swing, knocking one curved sword into the other.
Davrag gave a small nod and came on, blades slicing at Jald's head, only to meet empty air as Jald sidestepped, a thrust of the broadsword missed as Davrag sprang to the side, holding his twin swords in a defensive position.
Jald attacked, a low thrust to Davrag's footpaws and the stoat brought his blades down in a cross down parry, trapping Jald's blade, leaving the only action for Jald would be to step back, leaving them both even.
Jald's eyes narrowed as he stepped back, readying his blade as Davrag's blades snapped up to ready position, both seemed to move as one, Jald's superior skill countering Davrag's amazing speed.
Davrag whirled, arms blurring, frustrated to see how Jald matched him with every move, every parry was flawless, every attack calculated to bring an advantage or defeat his own disadvantage.
Neither had received any injuries beyond several light scratches to the torso, both were breathing slightly harder then when they had started and both eyed the other with a new respect, this was their first time ever fighting against one another and both were realizing for the first time, the limits and skills of their opponent.
Davrag made the final move to end the duel: a hard thrust followed up by both swords. Jald spun suddenly, stopping at the back, blade stopping less then an inch from biting into Davrag's spine. "I think this is off to me..."
The tip dug into Davrag's back, drawing a ruby droplet of blood. Seconds later Davrag's swords were released from his paws to fall to the ground. "A good match, eh?"
"Very..." Jald rose, cocky smile in place as he turned the blade's point away from Davrag, deciding against killing the stoat on the spot.
Davrag spun to face Jald, keeping the burning humiliation from his face, "I suppose that's the skill you demonstrated at your...graduation?"
Jald restrained a flinch. "Perhaps..."
"I suppose Eroket Nightblade must be as good as you, then?"
Jald grinned harshly, "You're so concerned with him...what's wrong? Afraid he'll prove your equal? Maybe he'll prove your better? That'd make your entire life and empty lie, hmm?"
Davrag shrugged and sat. "We'll move out tomorrow...no need to dwell on this, Jald..."
Jald smiled and sat, never taking his eyes from Davrag. He had made another enemy that night, so what? He'd made many...neither he nor Davrag would backstab the other unless they had something to gain. Jald often saw the fates of those who always looked over their shoulders, fearing a knife in their spines...their deaths always came from the front.
They all feared Jald...all those on the streets. Jald's reputation spread throughout the cities and the nations, pockets were emptied to buy the services of the ferret sword master. Those who had earned marks from those they had wronged trembled in fear of a visit from the black shadow of death that was Jald Nightson.
Do they not know it is Davrag Joris they should fear? Davrag let a rare snarl cross his features, sharpened fangs clenching tightly as his paws as they touched the hilts of his swords. He who slew Jald Nightson, in essence, gained credit for all those Jald had slain. With one swing of a sword or thrust of a hidden dagger, one could claim a reputation throughout the entire continent!
But Jald was the best for a reason, Davrag, though he hid it under his flamboyant and cocky air, would never willingly face Jald in a fight. Davrag was fast, that was true, but Jald had superior skill. Davrag had seen the ferret fight several times and knew, for all his boastings and taunting, that Jald would cut him down...still, one could dream, the same as Davrag could dream of the fight with Aleran Nightblade, a fight that could never occur. Davrag always loved testing his skills, pushing his limits and slaying those of lesser skill...and greater skill too, Davrag considered fair fights boring against those of greater skill. Jald, however, had been trained in the military and knew how to watch for and counter means both fair and foul.
Jald had his uses, that was true, and Davrag firmly intended to end the ferret's life once their little job and the ferret's uses were finished. Davrag stood to gain no matter who won the final battle between Vandashira and Jald, or perhaps the young ermine Eroket.
Perhaps Jald or Eroket would win the final confrontation or perhaps Vandashira would...and then weakened and exhausted they'd fall easy prey to Davrag's swords. Almost a shame, Davrag's competitive instinct would have loved a chance to test his combat skills against Jald and Eroket's, but perhaps the young ermine wasn't completely out of the question. But no matter how this worked out, Davrag was probably coming back a happy, rich and famous stoat.
No need to elaborate on how any of that little trio had really died, was there?
***
Jald rubbed a dark furred paw against his temples, pressing his cloak to his forehead to clear away the thin sheen of sweat that had appeared on his brow.
Shirtless, wrapped tightly in his green cloak and his sword was just out of reach, at the Academy, such carelessness would have merited a flogging.
Jald placed himself within his sword's reach, laying a paw on the familiar hilt protectively. This blade was an extension of himself, what he had lived by for so many years.
"Evening, Jald..."
"Davrag..." Davrag appeared from the shadows, crouching by the fire, his handsome face emotionless, amber eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"How'd your little scouting expedition go?" Jald queried, Davrag shrugged once, rising to his feet.
"Fine as can be expected...turns out dear Eroket is indeed on our hunt as well..." He grinned secretly, seeing Jald flinch slightly at the mention of Eroket's name.
"He hates me...rightfully so..." Jald growled as he rose to his feet, emerald eyes narrowing upon Davrag's face, holding the stoat fast in their gaze.
Davrag smiled and took a step back, out of sword range. "My, my...you're very restless tonight, eh?"
"You could say that," Jald replied with a trace of a smile, sword tip digging into the ground.
"Well, then, Jald, what say we make some sport of our own?" Davrag grinned, snapping both blades from their sheaths.
Jald stared for a moment before a slow grin spread across his face, revealing his sharp teeth; this was just the exercise he needed this night, the perfect way to forget his dream. Before he knew it, his sword was up at the ready.
Davrag struck first, blades a whirling storm of motion, finding his blades inexplicably parried by one sword swing, knocking one curved sword into the other.
Davrag gave a small nod and came on, blades slicing at Jald's head, only to meet empty air as Jald sidestepped, a thrust of the broadsword missed as Davrag sprang to the side, holding his twin swords in a defensive position.
Jald attacked, a low thrust to Davrag's footpaws and the stoat brought his blades down in a cross down parry, trapping Jald's blade, leaving the only action for Jald would be to step back, leaving them both even.
Jald's eyes narrowed as he stepped back, readying his blade as Davrag's blades snapped up to ready position, both seemed to move as one, Jald's superior skill countering Davrag's amazing speed.
Davrag whirled, arms blurring, frustrated to see how Jald matched him with every move, every parry was flawless, every attack calculated to bring an advantage or defeat his own disadvantage.
Neither had received any injuries beyond several light scratches to the torso, both were breathing slightly harder then when they had started and both eyed the other with a new respect, this was their first time ever fighting against one another and both were realizing for the first time, the limits and skills of their opponent.
Davrag made the final move to end the duel: a hard thrust followed up by both swords. Jald spun suddenly, stopping at the back, blade stopping less then an inch from biting into Davrag's spine. "I think this is off to me..."
The tip dug into Davrag's back, drawing a ruby droplet of blood. Seconds later Davrag's swords were released from his paws to fall to the ground. "A good match, eh?"
"Very..." Jald rose, cocky smile in place as he turned the blade's point away from Davrag, deciding against killing the stoat on the spot.
Davrag spun to face Jald, keeping the burning humiliation from his face, "I suppose that's the skill you demonstrated at your...graduation?"
Jald restrained a flinch. "Perhaps..."
"I suppose Eroket Nightblade must be as good as you, then?"
Jald grinned harshly, "You're so concerned with him...what's wrong? Afraid he'll prove your equal? Maybe he'll prove your better? That'd make your entire life and empty lie, hmm?"
Davrag shrugged and sat. "We'll move out tomorrow...no need to dwell on this, Jald..."
Jald smiled and sat, never taking his eyes from Davrag. He had made another enemy that night, so what? He'd made many...neither he nor Davrag would backstab the other unless they had something to gain. Jald often saw the fates of those who always looked over their shoulders, fearing a knife in their spines...their deaths always came from the front.