Headcanon soundtrack - Dragonriders of Pern
The two antagonists were dimly aware of the scurry behind them, of tables pulled roughly aside to give the duelists space. F’lar could spare no glance at the crumpled form of the drudge, yet he was sure, through and beyond instinct sure, that she was the source of power. He had felt it as she entered the room. The dragons’ roaring confirmed it. If that fall had killed her . . . He advanced on Fax, leaping away to avoid the slashing blade as Fax unwound from the crouch with a powerful lunge. F’lar evaded the attack easily, noticing his opponent’s reach, deciding he had a slight advantage there. He told himself sternly that wasn’t much advantage. Fax had had much more actual hand-to-hand killing experience than had he whose duels had always ended at first blood on the practice floor. F’lar made due note to avoid closing with the burly Lord. The man was heavy-chested, dangerous from sheer mass. F’lar must use agility as a weapon, not brute strength. Fax feinted, testing F’lar for weakness or indiscretion. The two crouched, facing each other across six feet of space, knife hands weaving, their free hands, spread-fingered, ready to grab. Again Fax pressed the attack. F’lar allowed him to close, just close enough to dodge away with a backhanded swipe. He felt fabric tear under the tip of his knife and heard Fax’s snarl. The overlord was faster on his feet than his bulk suggested, and F’lar had to dodge a second time, feeling the scoring of Fax’s knife across his heavy wher-hide jerkin. Grimly the two circled, looking for an opening in each other’s defense. Fax plowed in, trying to turn his weight and mass to advantage against the lighter, faster man by cornering him between raised platform and wall. F’lar countered, ducking low under Fax’s flailing arm, slashing obliquely across Fax’s side. The overlord caught at him, yanking savagely, and F’lar was trapped against the other man’s side, straining desperately with his left hand to keep the knife arm up. F’lar brought up his knee, timing a sudden collapse with that blow. He ducked away as Fax gasped and buckled from the pain in his groin. F’lar danced away, sudden fire in his left shoulder witness that he had not escaped unscathed. Fax’s face was red with bloody anger, and he wheezed from pain and shock. But F’lar had no time to follow up the momentary advantage, for the infuriated Lord straightened up and charged. F’lar was forced to sidestep quickly before Fax could close with him. F’lar put the meat table between them, circling warily, flexing his shoulder to assess the extent of his injury. The slash felt as if it had been scored by a brand. Motion was painful, but the arm could be used. Suddenly Fax seized up a handful of fatty scraps from the meat tray and hurled them at F’lar. The dragonman ducked, and Fax closed the distance around the table with a rush. Instinct prompted F’lar to leap sideways as Fax’s flashing blade came within inches of his abdomen. His own knife sliced down the outside of Fax’s arm. Instantly the two pivoted to face each other again, but Fax’s left arm hung limply at his side. F’lar darted in, pressing his luck as the Lord of the High Reaches staggered. But F’lar misjudged the man’s condition and suffered a terrific kick in the side as he tried to dodge under the feinting knife. Doubled with pain, F’lar rolled frantically away from his charging adversary. Fax was lurching forward, trying to fall on him, to pin the lighter dragonman down for a final thrust. F’lar somehow got to his feet, attempting to straighten up to meet Fax’s stumbling charge. His very position saved him. Fax overreached his mark and staggered off balance. F’lar brought his right hand over with as much strength as he could muster, and his knife blade plunged through Fax’s unprotected back until he felt the point stick in the chest plate. The defeated Lord fell flat to the flagstones, the force of his descent dislodging the dagger from his chest bone so that an inch of the bloody blade reemerged from the point of entry.
- Dragonflight
