15min fic #59
Oct. 11th, 2004 05:51 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annarti.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
yrae
Title~ Challenger
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine~
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 59. Before anyone asks, they wouldn't do all six battles on the same day, cos that wouldn't be fair. And look! the former general of the Own finally has a name! =0
~ ~ ~
Steely determination darkened Nimay’s face as she followed Mithé and Rau, the General of the King’s Own, to the army barracks. Her heart thumped so loudly in her chest she could have been certain either of them could have heard it, but both men kept their backs to her and kept walking through the courtyard.
Sheathed at her left hip was the sword she had been given upon passing the examinations that allowed her entrance into Raykin’s army. It was a simple sword, the regulation among all of Raykin’s swordsmen. It consisted of a straight, steel blade, a simple brass crosspiece, a brown leather-bound hilt and a brass pommel, as did the other seventeen hundred swords in the kingdom’s army.
It as a plain blade, but it suited her well. The day she had received it seemed so long ago now. She had scoffed at the blacksmith for making it too light for her, thinking a woman wouldn’t be able to wield as weighty a blade as the men. It was true that many wouldn’t be able to, but Nimay had height that could only have come from desert blood, and muscles build of army training.
Soon enough, the company of three reached the barracks, where twenty or so men were engaged in battle. They all stopped when the general of the Own and the king himself stepped into the room, a warrior standing behind them. It could only mean one thing.
“Swordsmen of the King’s Own,” Rau announced, confirming the men’s thoughts, “Meet in the courtyard.”
Most of the men hastily sheathed their blades; only the six men the general had mentioned did so while eyeing each other nervously.
Again the small company made their way across to the palace’s main courtyard, now with the six best swordsmen in the kingdom trailing meekly behind them. For the longest time, Nimay had eyed their ornately designed blades with envious respect. Never had she expected to have the ability to make them look at her own with fear in their eyes.
She reached the main courtyard, which had already begun to fill with curious palace staff, healers and other warriors. Word of the engagement spread fast through the palace, and even the two men standing guard on the palace’s outer wall had turned from their vigil to watch the battle. It was not often that the position of one of the Own was challenged, least of all by a girl who hadn’t yet celebrated her hrai-dani.
Nimay breathed deeply to calm her nerves and drew her regulation blade, unclipping the sheath tossing it to one side so it wouldn’t hinder her. Before her stood the king, Rau and Nimay’s six opponents.
Mithé stepped forward and spoke, though his voice was normal volume, intended only for her and not the throngs of people who had suddenly appeared. “You need defeat only one of these men to become a member of the King’s Own,” he explained.
‘Only one, he says, as though it’s that simple.’
Mithé gestured to one of the swordsmen, who nodded and stepped forward, drawing his beautifully crafted sword. The others all stepped back to join the crowd, leaving only Nimay and the swordsman in the middle, both twisting their blades nervously in their grip.
“First blood-draw from the torso wins,” Mithé shouted from the sidelines, and the battle began.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine~
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 59. Before anyone asks, they wouldn't do all six battles on the same day, cos that wouldn't be fair. And look! the former general of the Own finally has a name! =0
Steely determination darkened Nimay’s face as she followed Mithé and Rau, the General of the King’s Own, to the army barracks. Her heart thumped so loudly in her chest she could have been certain either of them could have heard it, but both men kept their backs to her and kept walking through the courtyard.
Sheathed at her left hip was the sword she had been given upon passing the examinations that allowed her entrance into Raykin’s army. It was a simple sword, the regulation among all of Raykin’s swordsmen. It consisted of a straight, steel blade, a simple brass crosspiece, a brown leather-bound hilt and a brass pommel, as did the other seventeen hundred swords in the kingdom’s army.
It as a plain blade, but it suited her well. The day she had received it seemed so long ago now. She had scoffed at the blacksmith for making it too light for her, thinking a woman wouldn’t be able to wield as weighty a blade as the men. It was true that many wouldn’t be able to, but Nimay had height that could only have come from desert blood, and muscles build of army training.
Soon enough, the company of three reached the barracks, where twenty or so men were engaged in battle. They all stopped when the general of the Own and the king himself stepped into the room, a warrior standing behind them. It could only mean one thing.
“Swordsmen of the King’s Own,” Rau announced, confirming the men’s thoughts, “Meet in the courtyard.”
Most of the men hastily sheathed their blades; only the six men the general had mentioned did so while eyeing each other nervously.
Again the small company made their way across to the palace’s main courtyard, now with the six best swordsmen in the kingdom trailing meekly behind them. For the longest time, Nimay had eyed their ornately designed blades with envious respect. Never had she expected to have the ability to make them look at her own with fear in their eyes.
She reached the main courtyard, which had already begun to fill with curious palace staff, healers and other warriors. Word of the engagement spread fast through the palace, and even the two men standing guard on the palace’s outer wall had turned from their vigil to watch the battle. It was not often that the position of one of the Own was challenged, least of all by a girl who hadn’t yet celebrated her hrai-dani.
Nimay breathed deeply to calm her nerves and drew her regulation blade, unclipping the sheath tossing it to one side so it wouldn’t hinder her. Before her stood the king, Rau and Nimay’s six opponents.
Mithé stepped forward and spoke, though his voice was normal volume, intended only for her and not the throngs of people who had suddenly appeared. “You need defeat only one of these men to become a member of the King’s Own,” he explained.
‘Only one, he says, as though it’s that simple.’
Mithé gestured to one of the swordsmen, who nodded and stepped forward, drawing his beautifully crafted sword. The others all stepped back to join the crowd, leaving only Nimay and the swordsman in the middle, both twisting their blades nervously in their grip.
“First blood-draw from the torso wins,” Mithé shouted from the sidelines, and the battle began.