Read Online The Rawn Chronicles Book One: The Orrinn and the Blacksword: Unabridged (The Rawn Chronicles Series 1) by P.D. Ceanneir - Free Book Online
Authors: P.D. Ceanneir
Ads: Link
face, he realised that there was only hate and jealousy there.
“We have not finished our sparing session,” he said, “so we may as well finish on you. You can blame your friend for his insult; now grab a weapon!” He said this last calmly and with a petulant flick of his wrist, and then turned his back on them to face Magnus, who was looking at him wide eyed.
“Are you mad?” he whispered.
Behind him, Soujonn grunted, “Time to teach a Rogun a lesson, boys... Ahh, the swords will be metal, of course?”
Havoc and Magnus were too young to be using real weapons, but Havoc turned around to him and grunted his agreement. The girls’ sharp indrawn breaths were clearly audible.
Not allowed to carry their own weapons into the city, the older boys chose from the sword rack next to the sand run. Most of them were blunt, heavy and poorly balanced, but there was no complaint from them as they limbered up.
Havoc chose a sword and Magnus stuck with tradition and kept his staff; he figured that working together he could fend them off while Havoc attached.
Soujonn took the lead and advanced on Havoc; the other boys rounded on Magnus. Soujonn’s plan was to separate them and deal with them individually.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” he said as he attacked with several ferocious blows of such strength that it forced Havoc back to the rear of the sand run.
The prince studied Soujonn’s style, or lack of, as was the case; although a fearsome fighter and in possession of some skill, he nevertheless would make an adequate knight where the combination of anger and strength was required to beat down one’s opponent. Havoc watched the wrist movement and the feet, judging when the next move would come and defending accordingly.
He was nearing the end of the sand run when he made his move, changing hands from right to left and leaving himself open. Soujonn saw his opportunity and swung his sword in an arc at Havoc’s side. Havoc stepped into the attacking swing and kneed him in the stomach; as Soujonn doubled up, Havoc rammed the pommel of his sword into the nape of his neck.
Eleana cheered and clapped, while the others just looked on in amazement. Soujonn’s powers of recuperation were amazing; he gave Eleana a withering look and attacked Havoc again, screaming in rage, but this time, in his anger and humiliation, he overreached so that Havoc was able to sidestep him and swing his sword into his cousin’s side. The training blades were blunt, or the damage would be more severe for Soujonn; he fell onto his knees and clutched his ribs; one was probably broken and he would have a nasty bruise in the morning if he did not heal himself.
Havoc turned and ran to help Magnus. His brother was fending off the others well, swinging his staff from side to side. One boy in the group had stepped too close at one point, because he had a grazed cheek that looked swollen and red.
Havoc saw Magnus run at one of them who seemed more concerned about the fallen Soujonn; using his staff like a lance, he rammed it into the other boy’s belly so hard that he lifted off his feet and landed outside the sand run.
Havoc, without losing his stride, picked up the downed boys fallen sword in his left hand and attacked the other two, pushing them back. Magnus clubbed the downed boy twice on the head for good measure, assured himself that he knocked him senseless, then turned and hurled his staff with deadly accurate precision. It struck the red-cheeked boy on the forehead, making a dull bonging sound, and the staff wobbled off into the air. After the impact, the boy collapsed to the ground clutching his head.
Havoc’s odds were now better and his opponent, the one with the goatee, who tried to defend himself from Havoc’s two swords. However, they were moving too quickly for him and the young prince trapped goatee’s sword between both of his own and flicked it away; he spun on his heel and kicked him in the side of the head with such force
“We have not finished our sparing session,” he said, “so we may as well finish on you. You can blame your friend for his insult; now grab a weapon!” He said this last calmly and with a petulant flick of his wrist, and then turned his back on them to face Magnus, who was looking at him wide eyed.
“Are you mad?” he whispered.
Behind him, Soujonn grunted, “Time to teach a Rogun a lesson, boys... Ahh, the swords will be metal, of course?”
Havoc and Magnus were too young to be using real weapons, but Havoc turned around to him and grunted his agreement. The girls’ sharp indrawn breaths were clearly audible.
Not allowed to carry their own weapons into the city, the older boys chose from the sword rack next to the sand run. Most of them were blunt, heavy and poorly balanced, but there was no complaint from them as they limbered up.
Havoc chose a sword and Magnus stuck with tradition and kept his staff; he figured that working together he could fend them off while Havoc attached.
Soujonn took the lead and advanced on Havoc; the other boys rounded on Magnus. Soujonn’s plan was to separate them and deal with them individually.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” he said as he attacked with several ferocious blows of such strength that it forced Havoc back to the rear of the sand run.
The prince studied Soujonn’s style, or lack of, as was the case; although a fearsome fighter and in possession of some skill, he nevertheless would make an adequate knight where the combination of anger and strength was required to beat down one’s opponent. Havoc watched the wrist movement and the feet, judging when the next move would come and defending accordingly.
He was nearing the end of the sand run when he made his move, changing hands from right to left and leaving himself open. Soujonn saw his opportunity and swung his sword in an arc at Havoc’s side. Havoc stepped into the attacking swing and kneed him in the stomach; as Soujonn doubled up, Havoc rammed the pommel of his sword into the nape of his neck.
Eleana cheered and clapped, while the others just looked on in amazement. Soujonn’s powers of recuperation were amazing; he gave Eleana a withering look and attacked Havoc again, screaming in rage, but this time, in his anger and humiliation, he overreached so that Havoc was able to sidestep him and swing his sword into his cousin’s side. The training blades were blunt, or the damage would be more severe for Soujonn; he fell onto his knees and clutched his ribs; one was probably broken and he would have a nasty bruise in the morning if he did not heal himself.
Havoc turned and ran to help Magnus. His brother was fending off the others well, swinging his staff from side to side. One boy in the group had stepped too close at one point, because he had a grazed cheek that looked swollen and red.
Havoc saw Magnus run at one of them who seemed more concerned about the fallen Soujonn; using his staff like a lance, he rammed it into the other boy’s belly so hard that he lifted off his feet and landed outside the sand run.
Havoc, without losing his stride, picked up the downed boys fallen sword in his left hand and attacked the other two, pushing them back. Magnus clubbed the downed boy twice on the head for good measure, assured himself that he knocked him senseless, then turned and hurled his staff with deadly accurate precision. It struck the red-cheeked boy on the forehead, making a dull bonging sound, and the staff wobbled off into the air. After the impact, the boy collapsed to the ground clutching his head.
Havoc’s odds were now better and his opponent, the one with the goatee, who tried to defend himself from Havoc’s two swords. However, they were moving too quickly for him and the young prince trapped goatee’s sword between both of his own and flicked it away; he spun on his heel and kicked him in the side of the head with such force
Similar Books
