A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1)

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  The three men followed MacDuff’s lead to the door, which opened up to a set of stairs leading down. The staircase circled down until they reached the bottom, where it opened up to a great cavern of a room. Stone columns lined the space like an ancient greek temple. There were training mats, more collections of weapons and even modern exercise equipment.

  “This is our training room my Lord,” explained MacDuff with his back to the others as he continued to walk towards an unknown destination.

  “What sort of things do you train for?” inquired Pierce, trying to make out shapes in the darkened space.

  “Hunting, fighting, and killing,” offered Sean.

  “We’re pretty good at it,” added Liam.

  Pierce’s heart began to beat a little quicker, feeling like he might have made a mistake. If time stands still in the Manor, how long had these men trained at hunting, fighting, and killing? His years of fencing now seemed paltry in comparison and his ploy at acceptance might be unravelling with every step he took towards this duel.

  “Aye they’re good,” stated MacDuff, bringing Pierce’s attention back. “But you can always learn more. For no matter how good you think you are, there’s always someone better.”

  With that pronouncement, MacDuff reached a door that led into a second hall flanked with more doors. The group made their way to a door on the left and entered into a room clearly designed for swordplay. The floor was painted with various shapes, designed to practice various sword fighting styles. The walls held a myriad of swords; from a centurion’s gladius to a samurai’s katana.

  Pierce was taking in the room and its many weapons when his attention was brought back by the stern voice of MacDuff telling them they weren’t on a break and to choose their weapons.

  Sean calmly walked over to the far wall and grabbed a basket hilted claymore from a weapons stand. Pierce stared at the giant sword; it’s long thick blade reflected the light of the room, the basket seemed solid enough to crush a man’s skull, and the red velvet within mimicked blood that could soon be his.

  Pierce quickly pushed these thoughts from his head. This had been his plan and he would only have one shot to prove himself to these men. This was the only thing he was moderately good at that they would respect. He looked over at Sean again, this time deliberately assessing his opponent. Sean had chosen a large weapon, meant to hack in a wide sweeping motion. Although it could be used to stab, Pierce felt that Sean would not use it for that purpose. His only chance was to offset the power of his opponent’s weapon with speed and cunning. Seeing a collection of French rapiers behind him, Pierce walked over and grabbed one of middling weight and length.

  With their weapons chosen both men squared off and awaited instructions.

  “First blood gentlemen,” announced MacDuff simply.

  As Pierce aligned himself into his fighting stance, Sean quickly drove towards him sweeping his claymore in a giant arc from the right. Pierce dodged this easily, circling to his left and raising his sword for the next blow. His training paid off as Sean quickly stopped his motion and wielded a backhanded slice, striking Pierce’s raised sword. The ringing sound of steel filled the room and Pierce’s hand vibrated with the shock of the attack. His rapier was not designed to defend direct hits from the larger claymore. He therefore began to move around Sean, using his trained footwork to keep his opponent off balance. He realized he needed to end this soon, before Sean realized he was not the metaphorical sheep sent to slaughter.

  Sean’s next blow came from above, forcing Pierce to jump backwards. It was a shot not meant for duelling, it was meant for battle. With the weight of the claymore, any hit from above would either take off an arm or imbed itself inches into the brain. Pierce looked over to the others, hoping they would say something to keep Sean from trying to kill him. Seeing no response from MacDuff and laughter from Liam, Pierce realized he had to end this soon in order to merely stay alive. Pierce backed away from the next two swings from Sean, trying to look scared and succeeding due to his actual fear.

  Despite the weight of the weapon, Sean seemed to control it with ease. However Pierce had noticed a flaw in his opponents’ technique. Sean appeared to be unconcerned with any counter from his opponent, erroneously believing he was happy to avoid attacks and not make any of his own. This was to be his downfall.

  Sean again charged forward and attempted another blow from above, however he had telegraphed his move and Pierce was waiting for it and ready to take his first shot. As the sword came down, Pierce shifted quickly to his right and raised his rapier. Using Sean’s momentum against him, he merely spun in place and sliced a quick cut in his opponents’ cheek with little effort. Unable to stop himself in his moment of victory, he finished his spin with a solid whack to the backside of his opponent with the side of his sword.

  Instead of yielding defeat, Sean turned in a rage and brought his claymore up once more, screaming as if in battle.

  Chapter 7