The Lone Warrior
Chapter One
Hilts And Blades
Theotret grasped his sword firmly. It was a longsword with a jeweled hilt, and a vicious, straight, sharp, blue blade pointing out from the hilt. Above the jewel was a dragon's head, so it looked as if the blade was protruding from the dragon's mouth. The sword was called Eréthyr, and Theotret had looked the name up in every dictionary, but could not find it. The village magician eventually told him that it was an elven blade, revealing that it could never be marred by battle. It had been handed down through the generations, and had served him well.
A flash of silver seared through Theotret's plane of vision, and he flicked his sword up, just in time to stop the other blade from carving his eyes out. He followed through by twisting the blade around, flicking it off, and spinning into a 'tornado attack' as he liked to call it. However, Theotret's opponent was also a skilled swordsman, and he blocked the sky blue blade at his hip. Theotret looked up at his opponent.
His opponent was Seonen. Theotret regarded his skill as equal to Seonen's, and they were considered to be the best warriors in Prade. Seonen had cropped blonde hair, with small, piercing emerald eyes. He was about two inches shorter than Theotret, but probably of a more muscular build.
"I don't think so, Theotret." He pulled his sword out and started slashing with some complex, quick blows. Theotret parried them all, but staggered on the last block, and dropped his sword. On the follow-through, Seonen couldn't help smacking Theotret along the face. He insantly dropped his sword, and took a pace forwards towards Theotret.
"Are you alright?" Seonen crouched near Theotret. Theotret nodded slowly, dropping his hand and letting the warm blood trickle down his lips. It was flowing fast out of both nostrils. He wiped the blood off, but a stream of new blood burst out.
"I think it's time to end our session." Theotret smiled, but some of the blood trickled into his mouth and he gagged. He spat it out, picked up his sword, and nodded. He sheathed his sword, and headed towards Dicia's house.
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He knocked firmly on Dicia's front door. Dicia was the town medic, who was about fifty, and was skilled at alchemy and would definitely know how to stop his nose from exploding with blood every thirty seconds and eventually passing out from blood loss. Dicia, who was about a foot shorter than Theotret, opened the door.
"Oh, not another casualty... I swear, you and Seonen are going to kill each other some day..." Dicia dragged Theotret into the house by his arm, and sat him in a chair. She bounded up the stairs and off into a distant room.
Theotret became dizzy, and groaned.
"Dicia..." he said.
"Alright, alright, I'm here..." she said, running towards him, cursing Seonen under her breath. She wrapped a thick blanket of wool around the bridge of Theotret's nose, securing it with a glue that she had hastily made with a mortar and pestle. The glue had a terrifically bad odor, and Theotret gagged as it wafted up his nostrils.
"Okay…" Dicia muttered. "that should be fixed up in a couple of days. And, that means no sparring with Seonen OR anyone else for the next two moons. Got that?" Dicia said. Her stern tone of voice intimidated Theotret. He nodded, clamped his nose with his hand, and rushed out of Dicia's front door, uttering a muffled 'thank you'.