With a sullen look and slightly hunched shoulders Zirnen, the number two sword in the Galaxy, stood on the other side of the platform from Ben. He waited for the buzzer, which would start the championship match. His slight build and short stature, about five foot seven, along with his experience, gave him speed and agility not seen in most swordsmen. The only reason Ben was able to score so many points against him, in the Galactic Games, lie in the fact that Ben had a keen sense of swording presence. He could concentrate and predict very accurately his opponent's next move. Plus, Ben had an edge in reach, which increased the effectiveness of his snake-like thrust.
He’s not happy, thought Ben. Probably wasn’t expecting to meet me in the championship match when he left his home planet bound for a Tarmorian tournament. Because of the expense most swordsmen, even the top swordsmen, only traveled to off-world tournaments once every two or three years. Zirnen had come anticipating a win, but now his chances were less than even as Ben was considered the favorite.
The last time they met in competition, two years earlier in the Galactic Games, Zirnen had won the match by using a maneuver which had been out of use for thousands of years. But this time Ben was ready.
He had researched the move, and had practiced against it a number of times. Now it was easily thwarted, and anyone who tried this trick against him would certainly lose.
It wasn’t the trick that concerned Ben, for he had practiced against it many times having his sparring partner maneuver to both sides with the roll and the attempted thrust into Ben’s ribcage, instead it was Zirnen’s improvement over the last couple of years that made Ben a little anxious about this match. Like all good swordsmen, Ben kept up on the swording news by reading the Quarterly Galactic Swording Magazine, “Sword Times.” Since the last Galactic Games, two years previous, Zirnen had successfully defended his title as champion of Lomar, his home planet, each year and had done so in a commanding fashion. He had also won a Tarmorian tournament, which included beating the number four sword of the Galactic Games. There was no doubt that his swording had greatly improved since Ben had last sworded against him. Ben shrugged it off. He was still better than Zirnen.
The warning light flashed on the scoreboard as the clock counted down to zero. The buzzer sounded, indicating the start of the match.
The Tarmorians were excited, but during a match they became very quiet. They stopped stomping their feet, stopped whistling and clapping, and stopped shouting and talking. They waited and watched in silence.
Ben and Zirnen stepped to the center of the platform and crossed their swords making a slight clanging sound.
The buzzer stopped and both men jumped back with their swords at the ready position. Zirnen moved forward and immediately took the offensive with a thrust, thrust, parry, thrust. Then he surprised Ben with a relentless attack—almost a brawling, hacking attack with his sword as he kept lunging forward.
Ben kept moving back, skillfully avoiding a hit by Zirnen’s unexpected frenzied attack. Flurry after flurry of offensive sword maneuvers came at Ben and it backed him up to the edge of the mat. Ben turned to his right and kept countering with defensive moves. An attack like this from most swordsmen would end with a quick kill by Ben, but Zirnen’s skill had increased even more than Ben had thought with his accurate and expertly timed offensive moves. Ben had to clear his mind, put everything aside, especially Lyil and the upcoming archaeological expedition, and concentrate solely on this match.
He stopped Zirnen’s vicious advance by defending a thrust then stepping forward. He thrust, thrust, then parried. By his movements Ben knew Zirnen was coming for the kill. He watched Zirnen’s sword closely for the sign that he was going to make a thrust toward Ben’s chest. And then it came, but Ben parried it easily and made a thrust of his own—one which would have scored on most swordsmen, but Zirnen parried it, and then made another thrust. Ben jumped back and parried.
Finally Ben saw a slight opening and was able to counterattack. Thrust, thrust, parry, thrust, thrust, and then the tip of Ben’s sword hit Zirnen’s sword hand.
The buzzer sounded and the match stopped while a point was put on the scoreboard under Ben’s name. The buzzer sounded again and the two men crossed swords waiting for the buzzer to stop. When it did they jumped back with their swords going to the ready position.
Two minutes and fourteen seconds from the end of the round, Ben parried, thrust, switched hands in mid air and thrust toward Zirnen’s chest. Zirnen parried in time to keep from being hit in the chest and thereby losing the match, then with the sinuosity of a striking snake he lunged at Ben’s stomach. Ben countered in time to keep from losing the match, but his parry wasn’t enough to keep Zirnen’s sword from hitting his shoulder.
The buzzer sounded and the men stopped swording. A point was put under Zirnen’s name on the scoreboard. After another two minutes of swording the round ended in a one to one tie.
The crowd cheered.
The second round went better for Ben as he began to adjust to Zirnen’s style of swording. Ben won two points to Zirnen’s zero and the third round would begin with the score three to one in Ben’s favor.
Before the start of the third round and as Ben waited on his side of the platform sitting on his stool, it occurred to him that Zirnen might try the roll trick again. He quickly dismissed this idea. Zirnen would have to assume, and correctly so, that Ben had practiced against and was now ready for it. With only a two-point deficit it was still possible for Zirnen to win the match and the tournament.
The buzzer sounded, Ben whipped his sword through the air once and moved forward toward Zirnen in the middle of the platform. They crossed their swords and waited.
When the buzzer stopped Ben jumped back, quickly faked a parry of Zirnen's first thrust, stepped to the right, and scored another point with a thrust of his own to Zirnen's left biceps.
Zirnen jumped back a little dismayed. A look of chagrin crossed his face as he realized he now had a three-point deficit. The points lit up on the scoreboard.
When they started again Ben held his sword in his right hand and put his left hand on his hip. This was a stance Ben employed because it would give him better balance, and when he took his hand off his hip oftentimes it would confuse his opponent because he didn't know if he was taking it off his hip to use it, if he was faking, or if he was moving into a different pose of balance.
Ben brought his left hand off his hip, switched sword hands and made a thrust. Then the unexpected happened. Zirnen successfully defended the thrust, fell to the floor, and rolled, but this time he went the other direction. With the sword in his left hand he stepped to his right, switched his sword to the right hand, and did an acrobatic roll in front of Ben, rolling to the left. With the sword in his right hand he thrust from out to in and from down to up, aiming for Ben’s ribcage just under the right armpit.
It startled Ben. Why would Zirnen take this chance when it was still possible for him to win? Later he told Ben that he had become frustrated, and felt this was his only chance.
But Ben was ready. He stepped back, parried the thrust with a counter thrust and ended the match. The ball of his point struck the chest of Zirnen Lying on his back.
Ben yelled out, “Take that you dastardly trickster!” He grinned down at Zirnen. A wave of exhilaration swept over Ben. Part of it was the clamorous applauding by the enthusiastic Tarmorian spectators, and the other part was beating Zirnen in a championship match.
When the kill buzzer sang out, it was the culmination of winning the match and the championship, and successfully defending against the trick, that made Ben perform a victory whip with his sword—something he had never previously done.
Chapter Fifteen