Anik looked him up and down as though he was trying to determine the value of a cow for slaughter. “And your sword-master didn't teach you about the importance of maintaining your skills?”

Ren bristled. “I can fight. You don't have to worry about me slowing you down.”

“Then fight me,” Anik said, lowering his sword.

Ren rolled his eyes. “I'm hungry. I want breakfast.” He made to turn, but the tip of Anik's sword against the underside of his jaw made him freeze.

“Fight me, skahli,” Anik repeated, his eyes boring into Ren's.

“You've got some nerve, asshole,” Ren growled, slapping Anik's blade aside with the back of his hand. “What does that word even mean?”

“It's a term of endearment,” Anik replied, voice thick with sarcasm.

Ren scowled, spun on his heel and marched back to camp. He found his brother's sword where he'd left it by the side of his blankets and yanked it from its sheath. Maybe just this once, he could put Anik in his place, make the brash, rude Lowlander stop and realise Ren was actually worthy of respect. As he walked back to Anik, Ren tried to remember everything that Berin and the sword-master had taught him about fighting. Proper stance, how to keep balance, the most effective strikes and parries.

Anik stood where Ren had left him, waiting with a hand on his hip. Ren would wipe that amused smirk off his face.

Positioning himself in front of Anik in the circle of flattened grass, Ren realised with a hint of trepidation that he had never before sparred against someone else with sharpened blades. He felt confident that he'd be able to keep from injuring Anik. So long as Anik was skilled enough to exercise the same amount of self-control. Ren wanted to see the look of surprise in Anik's eyes when he beat him. Maybe even a bit of admiration. He moved into ready position.

Anik raised his sword, one foot in front of the other, mirroring Ren's stance.

Ren swung.

The impact of steel and against steel was jarring, harder than Ren had anticipated. It ached all the way up his arm as Anik pushed his sword downwards and twisted, forcing Ren to take a step back and break away. Anik's blade sliced through the air, aimed at Ren's throat. Ren raised his blade, parrying just in time to avoid the sharp edge sinking into his flesh. His heart skipped a beat. Anik was serious. Well, Ren could be serious, too.

Anik held his sword at the ready, waiting for Ren to strike. Ren glanced at Anik's left flank, Anik's arm drawn back to keep balanced. Ren's chance. Stepping in close, Ren feinted to the right and then swung to the left.