General Zimri unsheathed a short sword from his waist and held it out to Ian.
Ian stepped forward and accepted it before stepping back to his place in front of the Majis. “Yes,” Ian said, directing his words at Gareth. “Yes, I will fight.”
At this, Gareth’s face finally broke into a smile. “Has the crown prince gone mad? Willing to fight against his own men, the men he trained and once led?”
“No.” Ian raised his voice again to counter Gareth’s words. “I will fight you, to take back the throne that you have wrested from my father, and to protect the innocent whom you would so ruthlessly attack.”
“Then fight me!” Gareth stepped forward, holding his arms out wide.
Ian lifted his sword and ran forward, pushing his feet across the dry sand, wishing he had the momentum to sprint but unable to find the footing to do so.
Gareth stepped forward to meet him. Somehow, the man burdened by the extra weight of armor managed to walk across the sand with far more stability than Ian in his exhausted state.
Ian lifted his blade, then brought it down on Gareth’s as they met.
Metal hit metal, scraping in an unholy screech above the waves.
“I have never been quite so pleased to see you,” Gareth said over their joined blades.
Ian drew back his sword, waiting for Gareth to make the first real move.
“Though that says very little,” Gareth continued, twirling the sword in his hand as though he was warming up his wrists for the fight ahead. “As I do not think I have ever been pleased to see you.”
“Why did you agree to fight me?” Ian asked. He kept his sword up in a defensive position, moving his arms occasionally to ease the muscle strain. Perhaps Gareth was simply trying to tire him out.
More likely, Gareth wanted to create a spectacle. Ian did not intend to give him such satisfaction. But as long as the soldiers were focused on him, he had a chance to save the lives of the Majis.
“Because I wish to prevent needless bloodshed,” Gareth said. He stepped toward Ian, twisting his shoulder and turning his wrist to stab his sword forward.
Ian, tired as he was, reacted on instinct as he leaned out of the way. He responded with his own jab, but it was half-hearted, clouded by exhaustion. “Prevent bloodshed? You are fighting your way through me so that you can kill them.” He pointed toward the Majis behind him with his head.
“Kill them?” Gareth replied. “Look at them. They are weak. You fight for them to live, but for what? Who will feed them? Your people who hate and fear them? No. I will not kill them today. There is no need.”
Ian stepped forward, making another attack. If Gareth did not intend to kill the Majis, he had something worth fighting for. His sword danced around Gareth’s defense and struck metal armor with a shrieking squeak.
Gareth leaned away, too late, surprised by the contact. But when he leaned back into the fight, it was clear he was ready to take it seriously. He held out his sword in a true defensive stance and sank into his thighs.
Ian forgot his exhaustion. Forgot his weak and aching muscles. Forgot that every eye on the beach was watching him. And he focused in on the fight at hand.
Gareth made the next move, lunging forward with a speed that should not have been possible with the weight of the armor he was wearing.
Ian struck Gareth’s blade away with his own, barely redirecting the force of the blow. He was fast enough to not have a blade buried in his side, but he was not fast enough that the blade made no contact. He felt the warmth of his own blood dripping over his hip before his body registered the sharp sting of the cut.
Ian let the momentum of his movement carry him to the side, leaning into the tense dance of the swordplay itself as he watched his opponent for an opening.
Gareth’s body was fairly protected by his armor, but Ian noted its weak points. Gareth’s face was uncovered, as was his neck. When he had ridden into battle this morning, he was not expecting to actually have to fight. His armpits were also vulnerable, but only when he lifted his arms.
Ian shuffled across the sand, planning his next set of moves to exploit Gareth’s weaknesses.
If he could defeat Gareth, there was hope that the Iseldan soldiers would listen to him. He had seen them waver earlier. There was hope that they might listen to him, even though Zimri had not.
Gareth made his next attack.
This time, Ian was prepared. He dodged the blow, moving dramatically to the side but throwing his body weight forward to surprise Gareth.
It worked. Gareth jumped back and lifted his sword arm, which was still extended from his previous blow, in order to counterbalance his own offset weight.
Ian raised his own shoulder, swinging his wrist to twist his sword up toward Gareth’s armpit.
