The Road to Bedlam: Courts of the Feyre, Book 2 by Mike Shevdon

for what?" I asked as Tate closed the doors behind me.
        "Slimgrin, weapons. Long-sword for Dogstar, broadsword for Fellstamp."
        "Me?" Fellstamp said.
        "Do you want me to do it?" Garvin asked.
        "Wouldn't Amber be better?"
        "Amber would kill him. Just don't let him kill you."
        "Then give me something better than a broadsword."
        "No. Trust me."
        Fellstamp shrugged, "As you wish, but it's not my fault if I break something."
        "He can heal later. Dogstar, come here. Clear some space."
        Fionh and Garvin walked to the edge of the room. Slimgrin held out a heavy blade, point down. It hung like a leaden pendulum from his outstretched hand. Fellstamp accepted it, hefting the weight, and swung the blade in low strokes to get the feel of it. I was handed a longer, lighter blade, much more to my taste, and I suspected more to Fellstamp's too.
        "What's going on, Garvin?"
        "You're fighting to first blood, open rules." Open rules meant no rules.
        "These are metal weapons," I pointed out. I had never been allowed to use real weapons other than for solo practice.
        "Yes, and they hurt if you get hit, so don't."
        "Why are we doing this?"
        "I don't have time to explain. Fellstamp won't be pulling his blows, so you shouldn't either. Begin." He backed away.
        I was about to protest, but Fellstamp lifted the blade in salute and then spun on the spot, using the falling momentum of the sword to sweep it in a wide open cut. I stepped back, allowing the blade to pass with a low whoosh. It wasn't a serious attack, but it got me moving. After that it got serious.
        A broadsword isn't really a cutting weapon. The edge is sharp, but it's the mass that does the damage. It will snap bones like twigs if you get in the way. The weight is the problem, though. It's slow to wield unless you have the raw power of someone like Tate behind it. Fellstamp was good, but he preferred lighter weapons. He usually favoured a pair of long curved knives with which he wove intricate patterns of defence and attack. There's no intricacy in a broadsword.
        It was relatively easy for me with a lighter weapon and longer reach to shift the attack on to Fellstamp and prevent him getting enough momentum to wield the bigger weapon. The trouble was that he could use it as a very effective shield with minimal movement, parrying my blows. My sword clanged off the edge of the broadsword, sparks flying but not penetrating his guard. I could drive him backwards, but I couldn't reach him.
        "If you don't cut him soon, Dogstar, I'll come in there and kill you myself," shouted Garvin.
        The distraction was enough for Fellstamp. He parried my blow sideways then danced around his blade, punching his elbow back into my face, aiming for my eye. I dodged, but received a painful jab to the cheek, making my eyes water. I dropped backwards, rolling into a tight ball, feeling rather than seeing the blade sweep over me, then rising in a single motion into an upward cut which rang from his blade. I used a series of whirling upward cuts to drive him backwards, steering him towards the corner where he would have no room to wield the bigger weapon. He saw the danger and veered sideways, opening up the space again. We circled each other, both breathing hard.
        "You're holding back, Dogstar. You have the speed but not the killing instinct. If Fellstamp wasn't pussyfooting around with that thing you would be dead by now."
        This goaded Fellstamp into a renewed attack. He swept in with bold strokes, drawing figures of eight in the air, forcing me to deflect the blows or lose my head. He whirled it around for another blow, building speed and power as he pressed forward. I dropped to my knee and parried it upwards, letting the blow carry through before thrusting my own blade up at a forty-five degree angle. There was a jolt as the blade found