Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [47]
With no more preliminaries, the men attacked with full vigor. The poles clacked and snapped with an occasional thud from a glancing hit.
She winced a couple of times when it looked as though Fenworth was about to land a strike, but Bardon whirled gracefully out of the way and returned a clout against the old man’s pole.
The fighting intensified. Bardon began to sweat. Water dripped from Fenworth’s brow, and his robe soon bore dark streaks where perspiration soaked the cloth. The more he sweat, the more limber his body became.
Fenworth missed Bardon twice in quick succession and grinned. “You waltz, young man. You should visit the courts of the land, not the battlefields.”
Bardon rained a rapid rat-a-tat-tat on Fenworth’s well-coordinated defense. “I must admit, Wizard, I expected your moves to be stiff.”
“I’ve always been known for my fluid touch.”
Kale shook her head and laid a hand on Lee Ark’s arm. “Something is wrong. I’ve never seen Wizard Fenworth actually fight. Even when surrounded by blimmets.”
The general grunted an assent. “I’m amazed by both of them. I’ve never watched Bardon against such a skilled opponent. Fenworth’s right. He has the grace of a dancer. He moves more like an emerlindian than an o’rant.”
She nodded, watching Bardon’s moves through an intricate attack. “The other students made fun of him because his style of fighting didn’t match the instructors’ criteria. But he’s good. I think they bad-mouthed him because none could beat him.”
With her eyes on the bog wizard in front of her, she jumped when his booming voice resounded at her shoulder.
“This is ridiculous!” Fenworth’s gnarled hands pushed Kale and Lee Ark aside. The old man glared at the combatants. “Who told you you could borrow my form?”
The wizard sparring with Bardon turned toward the interruption. Bardon’s pole had been positioned for an onward thrust. He could not stay his hand when his opponent suddenly abandoned the match. The young lehman pulled aside, but not enough. The pole struck the old wizard’s shoulder. To Kale’s horror, it sank into the coarse cloth and on through flesh and bone.
She blinked. As Bardon withdrew his weapon, the wizard’s body appeared to ripple outward from the point of impact, much as water does when a stone is thrown into a pond. The ripples reversed to converge on the center. The wizard merely brushed the spot as if he were wiping away dust.
Wizard Fenworth pounded his walking stick upon the ground. Bees swarmed out of the top notch and flew away in a mass.
“I demand you release my form this instant. It’s bad enough having two wizards, but two wizards in the same form is ridiculous. Show yourself, man.”
The other wizard casually waved a hand in Fenworth’s direction. Water sprayed over Fenworth and those standing behind him. “I would like to change into something more comfortable.”
A mist arose around the stranger until the air was so dense with moisture, he couldn’t be seen.
“Aha!” said Fenworth. “Just as I thought, and I can’t say I’m happy to see you.”
20
A MIXED BAG OF COMRADES
“Now is that any way to greet an old friend?” A short man emerged from the mist. He strode forward, still holding the prime-pole, which towered above him. The cloud of fog settled toward the ground and trailed away along the drying grass until it dissipated altogether.
Wizard robes in shades of blue covered his small frame. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on a meager nose and did nothing to hide the penetrating azure eyes behind them. He wore a floppy hat like Fenworth’s and carried a satchel. Damp wisps of fine white hair hung over his ears and around his shoulders. A thin beard grew from his chin, but no whiskers adorned his cheeks. He had a luxurious mustache that parted directly under his nose, flowed outward around his mouth, and joined the scraggly beard. His eyes quickly took in every member of the assembled party.
Bardon stood with his pole resting against his shoulder and a look of confusion on his face. The wizard thrust a