“Have ye spoken to yer da about the forge?” Torcall asked hopefully.
Rannoch shook his head.
“Ye have nae?”
“I have nae decided.”
Torcall didn’t understand his cousin, but he chose not to push it at that moment. He turned to leave, but Rannoch called him back.
“I am nae totally useless, ye ken. Ye and me da want me to man the forge because ye do nae think I can hold me on in a fight.”
Torcall froze. “Ye are nae useless at the using sword, but ye excel at forming it.”
“Bull!” Rannoch said, suddenly angry.
“Rannoch-”
“Nay,” Rannoch said, interrupting, “Do nae say what ye do nae think true.”
“Rannoch-”
“If ye do nae lie, battle me.”
Torcall had no interest in battling his cousin. Rannoch wasn’t even nearly as skilled as Torcall. However, he was the best swords maker for miles. Torcalldidn’t understand why the feat didn’t make him happy.
“I have only just arrived-” Torcall started, trying to reason with Rannoch. Still, he would have it, and he interrupted him again.
“Battle me if ye stand by yer words.”
Tired, Torcall gave in. “Alright.”
Swords were produced, and the young men stepped out into the expanse of land that stood in front of Dirk’s manor.
Torcall drew his sword and picked a stance. Rannoch attacked first, aiming for Torcall’s side with s determination that Torcall had never seen before. However, the move was mediocre at best and the energy attached wasn’t enough to make up. Easily, he sidestepped the blow and rotated his sword.
Rannoch attacked again but just as the blow before it, Torcall easily blocked it. Then, Rannoch changed tactics, trying his best to depend on speed rather than strength. It was an admirable effort at best. It was obvious that with a year more of training, he would stand a chance at being eligible to be taken as a new recruit to the army.
It would have been a smart move, Torcall said to himself. If not, he was much faster than Rannoch. He would not end the fight by pressing on Rannoch. He would defend his blows till he got tired. Perhaps that would give him the confidence he needed and convince him that he could start the forge and still train himself.
Rannoch delivered a cheap blow and left his left flank uncovered so Torcall could have attacked. When Torcall didn’t, his suspicion was confirmed.
Suddenly, he threw his sword to the ground with rage filling his eyes. The loud clang that the sword made echoed through the grounds. “Why?” he asked with glaring eyes. “Why do ye insist on mocking me so?” His voice was quiet but filled with rage.
“Rannoch--”
“Nay. Ye insult me. am I nae a worthy fighter that ye come at me with less?”
“Rannoch--”
“Nay,” Rannoch thundered. “I expect ye to respect the code and face me. Ye insult me with yer cheap blows.”
Finally, the rage that Torcall had been stemming all day hit him with full force. What right had Rannoch to act that way to him? He had taunted him with words and goaded him into a battle with words. Yet, he wanted more still.
Torcall’s eyes darkened.More ye will get then. He reached for Rannoch’s sword and tossed it to him. Then, he took a stance and waited for Rannoch to right himself. This time he attacked first. Pressing heavily, he delivered heavy blows on Rannoch, who struggled to block them. While he struggled to match his strength, Rannoch stood no chance against his tactics and speed.
The fifth blow knocked Rannoch’s sword out of his hands. In a bid to avoid the next blow of the sword, Rannoch fell to the ground. Torcall had won. He held his sword pointed to Rannoch’s neck.
The two cousins stared at each other, with Rannoch breathing awfully heavily. Torcall’s eyes were dead and blank. With a shake of his head, he threw the sword to the ground and offered his cousin a hand to right him up. Rannoch ignores his hand, got up by himself and stormed out, leaving Torcall alone.
