They rushed together, each taking two steps forward. Their two swords
swished through the air; but Kenric's glanced aside with a quick
movement of his strong wrists, and caught Roderic's weapon in mid-blade
with a ringing clash.
"Well guarded!" muttered Roderic grudgingly. "By the saints, but you are
no weakling novice, young man," and he stepped back again to recover.
Now it was not without profit that, on that time many months before,
Kenric had watched the fatal duel between Roderic and his brother Alpin,
and he knew Roderic's invariable trick of aiming at his assailant's
head. His successful guarding of the first blow gave him confidence.
Again the two combatants closed as before, tapping and scraping their
blades together; and again they flung back their arms. This time Roderic
was quicker in his onslaught, and he aimed from the right. But Kenric,
instead of attempting to strike, promptly guarded his left and
intercepted the blow as before. Ere Roderic could recover for a new
attack, he felt a sharp cut across his bare neck.
He roared in pain and fury, and sprang upon Kenric with redoubled force.
The swords clashed together with mighty strokes. Roderic, amazed at
Kenric's skilful fighting, grew ever more rash in his attempts to smite
him down and conquer him by superior strength; while Kenric, with steady
watchful eye, marked every movement, coolly guarding each fearful blow,
as though he knew as surely as did his assailant where Roderic intended
to strike.
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