A Facet for the Gem by C. L. Murray Page B

away.
    “Though you’ve had little experience with a blade, not to worry,” he said. “Much more than mere swordsmanship will be tested here. Stand ready now.”
    Morlen dug in his heels, clinging to the steel with both hands as if it were timber in a flood. Matufinn swung down vertically, and he quickly raised it above his head to parry a blow that shook him to his core. The sword swung again at his left this time, and he stopped it just a few inches from his head with a deafening note. Then Matufinn’s blade swept toward his right leg, and his tattered garb narrowly escaped a new shred as he swung dangerously close to defend.
    “Faster!” Matufinn urged as their blades met, thrusting forward to stab. Sweeping across his front, Morlen knocked the strike aside and opened Matufinn’s guard.
    “Good. Attack!”
    Morlen swung diagonally, connecting with nothing as Matufinn dodged so quickly he nearly vanished, coming at him again as though to fell a tree with an axe, and it took all his might to repel the blow, which staggered him back several feet.
    “Again.” Matufinn spurred him on. “Attack.”
    Morlen’s enjoyment of their amicable exchange faded as the exercise grew more heated. He charged forward, aiming the point of his blade at Matufinn, but hit only air while a kick to his backside sent him stumbling. Then he turned around in frustration and saw Matufinn staring at him with the look he began to despise, as though to make him feel an inherent strength that he found quite elusive.
    “Are you trying to fight me with your sword? With your arms?” Matufinn mocked. “These alone will not help you. Must I trick you again so you may forget them?”
    Morlen grunted stubbornly through another advance, swinging as Matufinn flowed around his guard and jeered.
    “Do you think your blade is a threat to me? I am already gone before it’s thrown.”
    Anger building, Morlen thrust his elbow upward at Matufinn’s voice, missing again as a painful kick to the small of his back scuttled him forward. Whatever speed Matufinn demanded, he couldn’t summon it. Every boy who had pummeled him into the dirt came rushing back with each clash of steel on steel, punching, kicking, laughing at his weakness. He felt the Goldshard against his heart, offering hope and refuge.
    “Morlen!”
    He ducked Matufinn’s blade and barely kept his ear unscathed. Lunging forward again on the offensive, he held his weapon close to his body this time, anticipating Matufinn’s quick evasion. He reared back as though to execute, and Matufinn took the bait, moving sideways in the path of his deliberate strike. Stumbling slightly to block, Matufinn tried to pass it off as a misstep, but Morlen was not fooled.
    Matufinn gave him the faintest look of approval. “Good. Now, faster!” he bade, and struck high as Morlen ducked with a low swing. He grimaced when Matufinn hurdled easily over the jab to whip him between the shoulders, and quickly spun around only to be shoved aside. Turning once more, he sent sparks through the air as metal met metal with a sonorous clang, and then slammed his shoulder into Matufinn’s chest, throwing an upward slice that took off the bottom inch of his beard.
    Brows arched in surprise, Matufinn’s eyes lowered furtively toward a less-covered chin, his free hand twitching a few inches up and stopping, as though he willed himself not to touch it. Looking at Morlen, he fought to keep the corners of his mouth low.
    Morlen held his position for the next attack, and it came swiftly as Matufinn leapt forward, bombarding him with a flurry of blows that demanded all he could muster to deflect. Their blades tore through the air as each tried to drive the other back, neither one budging.
    Morlen pushed against the weapon bearing down on him and wheezed. “What did you mean… urgh… when you said… I would obtain… my ‘true sword’?”
    Matufinn let up and quickly batted his thrust away, forcing him back again, and saw