Recreance (The Aeternum Chronicles Book 1) by H.G. Chambers

Author:H.G. Chambers [Chambers, H.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2017-05-14T06:00:00+00:00

11

The Spy

Sweat beaded on Oren’s forehead. He ducked an attack and rolled gracefully; tucking into a ball, then springing to his feet, sword at the ready. He and Khalil circled each other slowly. Their careful steps crunched on the hot dry sand. Oren advanced with hummingbird’s kiss, stabbing with the tip of his sheathed blade. Khalil knocked it away effortlessly and countered with the lazy mantis. The attack swept toward Oren’s chest. He had to bend backwards to avoid it, catching himself from falling with his other hand. He pushed off with it, launching into an all-out offensive. Khalil countered each strike with precision.

Oren glanced behind Khalil to a spot of discolored sand a few yards away, and was immediately forced to defend as Khalil retaliated with his own onslaught.

Their weapons clacked rapidly as Oren struggled to hold him off. He was being driven back toward a small rocky butte. Need to lure him back to that spot, he thought. Oren fended off two more attacks, stepping backward. Close enough. He leapt back, turned and ran the last few feet toward the rocky butte. Charging toward it at full speed, he used his momentum to run up the vertical surface and flip backwards away from it. Khalil watched with bemusement as Oren flipped over his head, landing a few feet away. Oren assumed the tide recedes, and grinned at his instructor. Khalil smirked, and resumed his attack. Oren defended, allowing Khalil to push him back toward the area of discolored sand.

When they neared it, Oren carefully stepped over the spot as three rapid attacks clacked loudly against his weapon, sending vibrations into his arm. Khalil stepped forward, his foot just inches from where Oren hoped it would be. Boil it! Oren ducked low, sweeping his sword toward Khalil’s legs. Khalil jumped, then swept Oren’s feet out from under him with a low spinning kick. Khalil rose and began to assume the headsman’s axe when his foot brushed the discolored sand. Several strands of thick brown grass whipped up, wrapping his leg and binding it to the ground. Oren seized the opportunity, diving aside. Khalil’s sheathed blade clacked onto the ground, missing by inches. Oren jumped up, sidestepped around Khalil, and struck swiftly with the advancing tide.

This is it! I’ve finally got him! Oren thought. Khalil dropped his sword and struck Oren’s sword arm once, twice, and a third time; all within less than a second. Oren’s arm went numb and he dropped his sword. Khalil caught it and pressed the sheathed blade to Oren’s neck, all before Khalil’s own blade hit the hardpan with a clack.

“How did you…” Oren stammered. His arm hung at his side, useless.

Khalil lowered the blade. “You will regain use of your arm in a moment, at which point you may begin collecting scraps for the fire.” He smiled mischievously. “Now if you would kindly pass me a canteen, I would be rid of this strangleweed.

“No, wait a minute.”

Khalil sighed, and raised an eyebrow.

“What did

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