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The Wizardwar :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 49 из 208Rather than parry, he struck his opponent's blade, speeding it on its sweeping path and putting Themo slightly off balance.
The big jordain recovered quickly and brought his elbow back hard. Matteo leaned away from the blow so that it just grazed his tunic, then danced nimbly aside.
Themo came on with a series of jabbing attacks, which Matteo met in quick, ringing dialogue. They moved together, skirting the edge of the fishpond.
Matteo noted the glint in his friend's eyes and reviewed his memory of the courtyard's layout. The fountain was but two paces behind him. For a moment Matteo was tempted to allow his opponent to back him into the water. He quickly discarded this notion. Even if the ruse was lost on Themo-and that wasn't likely-Matteo had always thought deliberately losing a match was a lie told with weapons rather than words.
He shifted to his right and spun away. Three quick steps brought him up behind Themo. He swept his blade in, level to the ground and turned so the flat of it would smack the big jordain on his backside.
Themo took the taunting blow, then with a speed astonishing for his size he whirled and seized a handful of Matteo's tunic. He threw himself back, dragging the smaller jordain with him.
They went down together with a resounding splash. Matteo pulled away and got his feet beneath him-and promptly tripped over one of the pots that held water lilies.
The big jordain planted a hand on Matteo's chest and shoved. Down he went again. When he came up, sputtering, Themo was already out of the pond, grinning like a gargoyle.
"A wise fighter uses the terrain," his friend reminded Matteo.
The smaller man waded toward his opponent. "I didn't expect you to take the fight into the water."
"You should have." Themo lunged again. Matteo ducked under the attack and came up hard, knocking the sword aside with his blade and following with a punch just below the ribcage. Themo folded with a resounding "Oof!"
"Good one," he congratulated in strangled tones.
Matteo used the brief respite to climb out of the pond. He lunged suddenly, his sword diving low. The big jordain leaped over the blade and stepped back. His sword traced an intricate, circular pattern, a mixture of challenge and bravado.
On Themo came, his weapon leaping and flashing. With each blow, his grin broadened. His dark eyes sparkled with reborn joy as Matteo met each attack and responded in kind. After many moments they fell apart, gasping for air.
"I won," Themo said in a wondering tone.
The big jordain recovered quickly and brought his elbow back hard. Matteo leaned away from the blow so that it just grazed his tunic, then danced nimbly aside.
Themo came on with a series of jabbing attacks, which Matteo met in quick, ringing dialogue. They moved together, skirting the edge of the fishpond.
Matteo noted the glint in his friend's eyes and reviewed his memory of the courtyard's layout. The fountain was but two paces behind him. For a moment Matteo was tempted to allow his opponent to back him into the water. He quickly discarded this notion. Even if the ruse was lost on Themo-and that wasn't likely-Matteo had always thought deliberately losing a match was a lie told with weapons rather than words.
He shifted to his right and spun away. Three quick steps brought him up behind Themo. He swept his blade in, level to the ground and turned so the flat of it would smack the big jordain on his backside.
Themo took the taunting blow, then with a speed astonishing for his size he whirled and seized a handful of Matteo's tunic. He threw himself back, dragging the smaller jordain with him.
They went down together with a resounding splash. Matteo pulled away and got his feet beneath him-and promptly tripped over one of the pots that held water lilies.
The big jordain planted a hand on Matteo's chest and shoved. Down he went again. When he came up, sputtering, Themo was already out of the pond, grinning like a gargoyle.
"A wise fighter uses the terrain," his friend reminded Matteo.
The smaller man waded toward his opponent. "I didn't expect you to take the fight into the water."
"You should have." Themo lunged again. Matteo ducked under the attack and came up hard, knocking the sword aside with his blade and following with a punch just below the ribcage. Themo folded with a resounding "Oof!"
"Good one," he congratulated in strangled tones.
Matteo used the brief respite to climb out of the pond. He lunged suddenly, his sword diving low. The big jordain leaped over the blade and stepped back. His sword traced an intricate, circular pattern, a mixture of challenge and bravado.
On Themo came, his weapon leaping and flashing. With each blow, his grin broadened. His dark eyes sparkled with reborn joy as Matteo met each attack and responded in kind. After many moments they fell apart, gasping for air.
"I won," Themo said in a wondering tone.