|
Kalenel’s decision was, admittedly, one that the Prince of Har’oloth would have adopted himself. The lesson to be learned from the previous exchange, and Kalenel had learned it quite well, was that one’s entire body had to become their weapon, not solely the objects wrung in their hands. Too many warriors succumbed to this error, and they usually paid for it with their lives.
The slight incline of the dark elf’s head was his only form of praise to Kalenel, but it was one that the latter was receiving more frequently than most of Faust’s students. For whatever reason, the younger D’Rinishad had proved himself more capable than his former thieving ways would have predicted, and perhaps he was made of the stuff that would eventually transform him into a legend.
Eventually.
Intercepting Kalenel’s temple-aimed thrust with the slap from Blood Winter, the Vysstichi Lord dipped under his student’s secondary jab, the one aligned with his heart. Shifting under and to the right, Faust came up under Kalenel’s assault, the tip of Soulseeker leading the way and stabbing into the pommel of Kalenel’s sword, the edges of the adamantite blade grinding dangerously close to his fingers and threatening to pry the weapon from Kalenel’s grasp.
Would he relinquish his grip of the weapon? Or he would find some way to maintain control of it in the face adversity?
|