“Get back up and face me, girl! Or am I to think you’re dead?”
Fendryys lay on the ground for a moment, eyes closed and mildly dazed, letting the earth cool her tired muscles. After a few more jibes from her opponent she pushed herself up to sit on her knees, wiping dirt and sweat off her face while retrieving her sword with the other.
“A-ha! She lives!” The man laughed heartily.
Fendryys stood and faced him. “Perhaps I live as one of the undead.” She stared at the man defiantly.
The humor instantly dropped from his weathered face, and his eyes grew cold as he extended his sword arm and pointed the weapon’s tip at her. “You know better-” His words cut off as Fendryys whirled her own weapon around to disarm him. The attempt failed, but only just, the man barely keeping hold of his sword as he staggered backwards.
Fendryys quickly lashed out with several more strikes which the man somehow managed to parry, still off his center. Finally with a yell she swung her sword again and stopped it against the man’s throat as his own sword licked up, the point pressing against her midsection, their motion ending as both their free hands clutched at each other’s clothing, locking them together.
“You know better than to make light of the undead,” the man finished, eyes fixed to hers.
“And you had known better than to strike your own daughter to the ground so dishonorably, when we’re only sparring!” her eyes matching his in every detail.
Her father held his gaze for a moment, then relaxed his grip on her clothing. A truce settled, and they stepped back from one another. “I expect you to guard your whole person against attack. And I expect you to follow a code of honor when fighting; however, you can never assume your opponent will hold to the same.” He allowed himself to chuckle. “If your opponent were so honorable and proper, your disagreement could be settled without steel.”
Fendryys rubbed her head where he had struck her before, feeling the knot already forming. “Good thing you weren’t coming at me with steel,” she said, glancing down at their wooden practice swords.
Jareth laughed and clapped his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Perhaps I did carry it a bit far! Enough for today, then. Let’s head in to supper, shall we?” He collected her weapon and rested both over his shoulder as he led them towards home.
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