The Tattered Banner (Society of the Sword Volume 1) by Hamilton Duncan M

Author:Hamilton, Duncan M. [Hamilton, Duncan M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-11-30T00:00:00+00:00

In the days since their picnic on the island, Soren had found it difficult to think of much else. He had seen Alessandra a number of times since, but only briefly. Their respective responsibilities had kept them from another outing like the picnic. It had been the perfect day. In class he daydreamed of her, the sound of her voice, the way she laughed, the smell of her hair. In practice he imagined she was watching him, and he pushed himself to ever more flamboyant swordplay. His skill and speed with a sword was all that he had to offer her. With no money, land or titles, it was all he had to set himself apart from all those who he knew had far more to offer than he ever would. As long as it was not enough to support himself, how could he ever contemplate being able to keep a girl like Alessandra?

When he was in a normal practice class, this ostentation was fine. By now there was not another student in his class who could match him. It was different in his private lessons with Master Bryn.

Bryn had long since acknowledged Soren’s skill. Master Dornish had always made it clear that Bryn’s evaluations of him had been exemplary. Although each of their duels in training were close, Soren was beginning to come out on top by ever greater margins. When he introduced unnecessary flourishes into his swordplay, it enraged Bryn, who would hurl abuse at him for being a popinjay and for the dangerous openings they left. Soren knew they were there, knew the danger existed, but was also certain that he could get away with them. Bryn knew it too. In point of fact, every time he did try to exploit one of the openings, Soren easily parried and countered, further angering Bryn.

Bryn was an angry fighter. He had a flawless technique, but there was a deep-rooted anger in every attack he made, as though each time he struck, it was not his opponent he saw, but some other person or event. It intrigued Soren, but he was well aware that it was unlikely that he would ever find out its cause.

He made to leave the salon at the end of the evening’s practice, a spring in his step as he was going down to the Sail and Sword to see Alessandra.

‘Soren!’ Bryn shouted. The towel he was using to wipe the perspiration from his face muffled his voice somewhat. Soren paused, his hand hovering over the door handle. Bryn stared over at him, his face hard, the towel held just below his face. ‘One day you will meet a man who is at least your match. On that day, do not let your arrogance kill you.’ He returned to wiping his face and neck as Soren left the salon.

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