Rohvim #1: Metal and Flesh by Endi Webb Page A

the line approached Sir Jack and shouted out, “Shawna Ruthinburg!” and drew her sword. She lunged at Sir Jack, the man easily parrying her blow, and the two tangled in a flash of swords. Aeden looked over at Katrin and the man she dueled, a short, stocky young man with a shaved head. Within seconds, he witnessed Katrin block several powerful strokes from the man, and in turn managed to score three solid hits against his torso before he even realized what was happening. When the minute was up, the short man had received seven hits and only managed to score one hit against Katrin. He swore as the judges held up their hands, motioning for them to stop, and marched over to the stream, hurling his sword at the ground.
    “I’m glad we’re in his line.” The man behind Aeden murmured in his ear, pointing to Sir Jack. His opponent had managed to get in two solid blows on him, but before the minute expired, he also racked up five hits against her.
    “Next!” Sir Jack yelled.
    The man in front of Aeden stepped forward, drew his sword and announced, “John Hillrest!” He stepped towards Sir Jack and the two circled each other for a moment before going at it, striking and dodging and blocking. A minute later, the man emerged with only two hits against him, though scoring none against Sir Jack. Aeden readied himself.
    “What are you waiting for?” Sir Jack called, and Aeden stepped forward.
    “Aeden Rossam!” He drew his sword and bounded towards the man. In one deft motion, Sir Jack swatted his sword aside and struck Aeden on the shoulder. Frustrated, Aeden withdrew and circled the man, coming in more measuredly the second time. After a quick flurry of swordplay, Sir Jack landed another blow, this time across his chest. Grunting in anger, Aeden rained down a series of strikes on the man, scoring a hit, but getting his sword knocked out of his hand in the process, getting hit twice more before he could recover. In the final few seconds of fierce dueling, Sir Jack even managed to reach out and touch Aeden’s sweaty head. The judges held up their hands. Aeden frowned, and bowed to the man before walking away, heading towards the stream for a drink. Priam sat on the bank, having also just finished his bout.
    “I didn’t even get in a hit!” the boy cried. “The man I was fighting was twice my age and nearly double my size!”
    Aeden collapsed next to his friend and sighed, “Yeah, mine was pretty good too. I got in one hit. But he connected four times.” He crawled to the stream and drank deeply, reaching down to gather water to splash his face. “So what do you think? Did you get a good look at your competition tomorrow?”
    “They all seemed pretty good. I only got to watch three of them fight, and none of them scored against the city guard either, so it’s hard to tell. But from the looks of them all, I might be able to take them.”
    The two boys returned to watch the others in their respective divisions fight, taking mental notes about each individual’s fighting style, stance, and preferred maneuvers. After an hour, the pre-trials concluded and the crowd reassembled in the center of the great lawn. The Swordmaster approached them all and announced, “The results will be posted this evening. Until then, get rest! Do not practice the rest of the day like a bunch of amateurs, wasting your strength instead of saving it for tomorrow. When you arrive, you may wait among the spectators until the match previous to yours, at which point you will sign in and await your own match by the judges’ table. When your match is concluded, you will stand and face your opponent, bow, and shake the other’s hand, no matter how thoroughly he wiped his arse with you.” The younger men snickered. “At the conclusion of the tournament, the lord of the city will descend to the lawn here and crown the winner of each division, and present to him whatever other prize he has chosen. Good luck.” The man walked away from the crowd,