Steel crashed and thundered across the unusually quiet courtyard, ringing off stone buildings and covering the muffled sounds of grunts and quiet cries. A circle of Mordecai and Adhara had formed, teachers and students alike all jockeying for the best positions. While it wasn't uncommon for the Grand Master to come and review training, few remembered the last time he had stepped into the challenge ring!
Dulled steel blades met with a ring as the older Grand Master easily parried a lunging strike past him, smacking the young man on the rear with the flat of his blunted training sword as the kid stumbled past. It was almost a mistake as a serious looking young woman charged in with a horizontal swing meant to take the head from the shoulders. Marcus barely ducked in time, feeling the breeze of the dull blade as it rustled past his thick graying hair. The old man twisted and turned his hips letting the weight of his sword carry his movement back upward in an arc that, at the crest of, his second hand gripped the handle of the training blade adding extra power in the overhead strike. With both of her arms outstretched and caught in the follow-through of her swing the girl was wide open and she knew it, her eyes widening with fear and air sucked in with a sharp gasp as the pain she hadn't even felt yet but knew was coming.
Marcus angled off the strike brining the dull blade down on the shoulder pauldron of the battered sparring armor. The armor dented from the blow as both steel and the girl cried out, the later falling to one knee. Showing no mercy for the girl, as Marcus twisted away he swept his unprotected knee up catching the girls forehead in a glancing blow that sent her sprawling back.
The third attacker, another young boy, started his attack with a quick and powerful upward strike. Marcus blocked the attack and quickly found himself loosing ground as the kid advanced with wide sweeping attacks more suited to a scimitar or falchion than the training longsword the kid was wielding. That became the boys undoing as when he swept the blade low from a high guard, Marcus stepped in and simply smashed the kid in the face with the pommel of his sword. The young Mordecai was stunned, blood running from his nose and eyes swelling with tears. Marcus struck in the moment, stepping with a black booted foot into the side of the boys knee while he began raining hammering blows down on the boy that drove him to the ground as he attempted to protect himself.
The young man from before saw an opportunity to take down the Grand Master when his back was down and rushed in. Marcus launched himself backwards, twisting in air to face the oncoming boy. When his feet his the ground the old man let his knees buckle taking him below the strike of the other man while allowing him to continue his sweeping strike. It caught the Mordecai in training hard enough in the stomach that once more the battered training armor bent and all breath was knocked from the boy sending him tumbling into the other young man, hard. As Marcus stood, he noticed the girl was on her feet and coming for him once again.
This went on for a few more minutes, the Grand Master Marcus Dyer weaving in and out and in between the trainees as the stumbled and swung and fought to be the one to take down the old man. Their friends, peers and fellow students cheering while mentors and teachers shouted out helpful instruction that was promptly and irritatingly ignored by the students. And this was paid for in full, the price bloody cuts and painful bruises that would not soon fade from the three students and would serve as a good reminder not just to them, but everyone. Teamwork was just as important as swordplay, but swordplay was important as well!
Marcus stepped out of the ring, handing over the dulled training blade to one of the instructors. He stood proud and tall and even though soak lined his neck, back and down his sides he strolled casually to the water trough. It was one of the hardest walks of his life and, after dunking his head into the water did Marcus allow himself to take a few minutes to just breathe and gather his strength. He was getting too old for this, he knew, but the day he couldn't do what was asked of his recruits was the day he hung up his blade.
Speaking of which, he thought, Marcus stood and walked to the small arena fence where he had left his long black high necked sleeveless coat and the finally tooled belt and baldric which held his signature blade. Putting both on and adjusting them for comfort, Marcus let out a heavy sigh as his critical gaze swept out over the Mordecai training grounds. Everyone was of course hard at work, who wanted to attract the attention of the Mordecai Grand Master?
