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boiling up in him like molten lava. Earlier, he had really been willing to give Prap the benefit of the doubt, but the man insisted on being insulting (not to mention cruel, if you consider the bird he tried to skewer).
    “Now,” Prap continued, drawing his sword, “let’s see how you do when you actually have to face your opponent one-on-one.”
    Errol said nothing; he simply armed himself with the longsword, and the fighting commenced.
    It became evident almost immediately that Errol was outclassed. Although it could be argued that he held his own, he found himself on the defensive almost immediately, just like his battle with the bladebeak.
    Despite his size, Prap was strong and fast, his weapon moving so swiftly it was almost a blur. Moreover, he wielded his sword with the grace and expertise of a master, making every strike, block, and parry work to his advantage.
    Finally, the man had incredible stamina; Errol had thought, after dealing with a ferocious onslaught from his opponent, that Prap would soon tire. That was far from the case, and – again just like with the bladebeak – Errol was the first of the two to begin to feel fatigued.
    In brief, Prap was, as Bander had indicated, a tremendous fighter. Therefore, it really came as no surprise when, shortly into the fight, Prap disarmed him with a powerful blow that knocked the sword from Errol’s hand.
    Prap pointed his sword at Errol, holding the tip of it just an inch from Errol’s throat.
    “I hope you learned a lesson here, son,” Prap said in a voice that sounded as though he’d like to run Errol through. “Maybe you should leave the job of Warden to someone who knows what they’re doing.”
    Prap lowered his sword and turned away with a smug look on his face. Seething in anger, Errol pulled out his Wendigo dagger and his throwing knife, holding them in his right and left hand, respectively. Faster than Errol would have thought possible, Prap whirled around and into swordfighting position at the sound of the blades leaving their sheaths, apparently expecting an attack.
    “Shall we try it again?” Errol asked, dropping into a fighting stance. “My way?”
    Prap smiled. “I’m more than happy to extend the lesson, youngster.”
    Once again, Errol and Prap engaged each other. Frankly speaking, with nothing now to really counter the tremendous reach of Prap’s sword, Errol knew that he was at even more of a disadvantage than before. However, his temper had gotten the better of him, and he was now committed to seeing this encounter through.
    Lacking the benefit of a sword, Errol relied on a tactic of evasion. He mostly ducked and sidestepped Prap’s attempted strikes rather than engage him. It required yielding ground and staying on the defensive, but – unburdened by the weight of the longsword (which had never been a weapon he favored) – Errol found that his speed was more than sufficient and he wasn’t getting as winded. The same, however, could not be said of Prap.
    Their first engagement, during which time the bulky Warden had seemed tireless, had probably lasted no more than a minute. Now, after essentially chasing Errol non-stop for twice that amount of time, Prap seemed to be losing a step; he was breathing heavily, and wasn’t holding his sword up quite as high as before. Furthermore, his strokes were noticeably slower. Finally, fury at having to chase after his opponent seemed to have unbalanced Prap both physically and in terms of his technique.
    Errol, noting all this, decided to take his chance. He waited until Prap took another two-handed, horizontal swing at him (which Errol leaned back to avoid) and then rushed in. Prap, seeing what the younger man was attempting, tried to halt the momentum of his swing and bring the sword back. He was too slow; Errol, parrying the almost glacial swordstroke with his dagger, was already inside Prap’s guard. Errol held his throwing knife an inch from his opponent’s nose.
    They stood there for