Chapter 237

At last, the ringing of forging hammers in the smithy came to an end.

The fire in the furnace leapt and guttered, casting two shifting shadows upon the walls.

The two Witchers bent low, swords gripped in both hands, tips leveled straight at one another. Their feet slid cautiously across the ground, like two venomous snakes baring their fangs and coiling themselves for the strike.

They lunged at each other, almost at the same instant. In a flash, several blows came one after another, chops, rising cuts, thrusts. The air was split apart by the edges, and the transitions between forms dazzled the eye.

Steel danced in a blur, clashing again and again. The blades scraped at high speed, shaking down bursts of brilliant sparks.

The two figures crossed and passed, their movements graceful and fluid as a dance, yet swifter than any ordinary man could follow. Within the smithy one saw only two ghostlike shapes in constant motion, leaping, slipping, shifting, with sword shadows all across the walls.

Only after a long while did the disorderly sword-light fade. The two Witchers sheathed their blades and stood still for a moment, calming the blood that still surged in them.

“Kid, you’ve improved quite a bit lately. You dodged several of my strikes.” Orin grinned. “And you were only that little bit too slow, a real pity. If your sword had gone one inch farther, you’d have hit me.”

Roy shook his head. That tiny inch was a gulf beyond crossing, one he could not bridge in any short span of time.

Still, at least now he could last a while under Orin’s monstrous swordsmanship.

Roy reached down and touched the brand-new armor on his body.

It was nothing like the old, somewhat worn leather jerkin from before, the one split open in several places. This new black harness gleamed fresh and bright, plain and clean in design, stripped of the long cumbersome sleeves. Down the front were bronze manticore buttons, and beneath the hand it felt tough as oxhide. During the spar, the standard steel sword had struck it three times, and not even a pale mark remained.

Those crumpled old tight leather trousers had also been replaced. Their ocher surface now bore a line of fish-scale patterning. They looked somewhat broad and bulky, yet in truth fit more closely and comfortably than before, and did not hinder movement in the least.