Journey to the stars and worlds of imagination: 2024 W : Weapons

There is only one topic that first the challenge letter -- "Weapons." Although my interest in military weaponry originally pertained to re-enactments or my coverage of militaria for collector's magazines and antique trade publications as a correspondent, the information has proven useful in my writing. It may only be swords and bows rather than tanks and jeeps, but they are still weapons.

From Imprisoned in Stone, a sparring session that takes on a uglier tone when jealousy enters the competition.

Gareth’s lips tweaked in a smile. I might not be able to have Maerva, but I am under no compulsion to make it easy for Colwynn. Stooping down, he rose in fluid motion with a sword in his hand. He tipped the blade in salute, first to Tralin and then Colwynn. Three strides and he stood in the middle of the room. His muscles rippled from the weight of the blade as he twirled it through a series of one-handed figure eights.
All motion stopped, turning him into a grim-faced statue. Light glinted off the hilt that now hovered at shoulder height. The steel shaft pointed on a straight line to Colwynn’s head. “Your move, my friend,” Gareth said.
Colwynn rushed. His sword struck Gareth’s block. Again and again, the two men sparred. The sound of metal against metal mingled with the grunt of men. With each attack and counter, the fight grew more vicious. Gareth used his heavier weight to force Colwynn back. When the next blow landed, the flat of the blade struck bone not metal.

In contrast, from Fire and Redemption, the site of a duel to determine Brial's fate. Instead of a room magically turned into an arena, circle eight was a real site. You know when you have reached the traditional place where friendly competitions were held during the clans gathering by the marker tree with the face of an ancient watcher carved into it.

Having set as much contingency protection in place as she could, Brial scanned the area. It hasn’t changed much since the last time I was here, she thought. The grass is trimmed. The archery targets are set up, bows and quivers of arrows hang from stands just inside the grassy area, and the cairns that mark the shooting distances are neatly stacked in their places. The one difference chilled her soul. It looked like someone had decorated the tree stumps and rock benches with glittering steel. Every type of bladed weapon from throwing daggers to axes, and short swords to great ones half as tall as a man awaited their summons to the competition. Her gaze shifted from the spears and halberds to settle on the matching sets of quivers full of arrows and the decorated bows that leaned against them.
“Karst is no weaponsmith, knows nothing about the battle axes of the northmen, nor the pikes favored by eastern fighters,” she whispered. Her resolution hardened. Deheoul will not leave the field alive. Neither tradition nor my kin will prevent me from having my revenge if Karst falls.

~till next time, Helen

If intrigued and want more excerpts or a free read of the first chapter of Imprisoned in Stone or Fire and Redemption, click on the cover in the banner.