The Challenge

Dochia clutched the sword's pommel. Tight. She then relaxed her grip and assumed the stance. She flexed her thumb and reveled in its soreness.
'Try a vertical cut then aim at the right shoulder. Parry and defend your left while going again for the leg on the opposite side.' her sword master's words resonated in her year.

Dochia focused on the moves and smiled. The training dummy was swirling with every precise strike, and she allowed herself to dream.

It was hard to be accepted in the coming tournament and most laughed. With every hit on the dummy, her confidence was growing, and she could see herself winning. Her smile turned into a grin, and she let herself slide in the strike-duck-parry dance. Invincible! That's how the knights must feel when victory is within their grasp.

The whitewashed walls dimmed, and the weapon racks became invisible. Excitement grew, and she felt transported on the wings of...

Shreeeek! The most unwelcome sound of metal on metal and her sword met an unmovable obstacle. So sudden and hard that her sword dropped, and she clutched her arm.

Dochia narrowed her eyes and her eyebrows almost met in a frown. She eyed warily the sharp sword at her chest, while calculating what would it take to retrieve hers.

The chances didn't look bright; her eyes traveled down on the strong, tattooed arm, to the wide chest clad in a white linen shirt and... By Jesus, the skirt guy!

Her mouth curved up, and the tip of the sword pressed harder on her chest.

'Mistake number two: antagonizing your enemy!' he hissed.

Dochia looked up and this time the copper-red curls were tied neatly on the back of his neck. She must have shown astonishment, because the sword dropped from the chest and pointed down towards hers.

Dochia didn't wait for another invitation, gripped her sword and assumed a defensive position.

He circled her and lounged. This time she was prepared. If he was surprised, nothing but a barely perceptible frown showed it. Dochia knew her main weakness: strength. Although she was tall, her slight build will never match the bulk of a trained knight. She learned to dodge the strong hits, duck under the direct attack and skillfully parry the rest.

The red-haired knight's skirt didn't seem to bother him and although not very tall, he was muscular with an impressive display of strength.

The time flew and by the time the sun set their breaths were labored. The red haired lounged and Dochia was too tired to duck. He hit her sword, and the vibrations made her drop the sword. Again.

He saluted her with two fingers to his temple. That's when she saw the jagged scar near his hairline.

''tis a good thing then I'll be gone tomorrow. You might have a chance to prove you're not the goose everyone thinks you are' he grinned.

'Try watching Miklos closely! He is weak on his left side, just barely' he added.

He turned and headed to the door, leaving Dochia astonished and gasping for breath. Who did he think he was to...?

'Duncan' he told her, over his shoulder, without turning.