All too quickly, the sun rose again, and Tom set off with a grumpy Alice riding behind him. Out of what she'd insisted to be boundless kindness on her part, Alice had permitted Tom to rest himself for about two hours the evening prior, before she herself slept for the remainder of the night. He found the minimal respite barely adequate for his needs, but compared to none at all, he was left no room for complaint. 

Of course, lacking those precious two hours of her own sleep, Alice seemed a bundle of restrained rage, brewing in negativity and ready to lash out at the slightest trigger. Adding to that the fresh memory of Tom's blunder as they travelled back down the same road they should have never travelled, her disgust visibly grew in intensity as the day progressed. 

Frankly, who would blame her? Tom asked himself, Surely not me. 

Needless to say, their trot back to the fork of failure was attended by an oppressive silence, wherein Tom led the way with a hung head, swearing he could feel Alice's dagger-sharp glare piercing the back of his neck. 

His body urged him to snatch another moment of sleep, and it burned to resist the temptation. I probably could, he considered, noting how Exuberance followed the trail perfectly without any input on his part. But how lazy and disrespectful of me, who hasn't even fully paid penance yet for past blunders. 

He glanced back for a moment, mainly to check on the black mare Forbearance, as well as to ensure Alice still retained her mount on the horse's back. Sure enough, the mare followed Exuberance with a hung head, lacking in enthusiasm, but still keeping pace. And to his regret, Tom spared a glance at the horse's rider. Alice's leer rested on him, immediately pushing his attention back to the road ahead of him. Even the dirt stretching before them appeared more pleasant. 

Why am I even doing this? For a vain hope of some matchless reward? Merely a cold sense of duty? Self-loathing? 

That must be it. A man must truly hate himself to willingly subject himself to such torture. Insanity incarnate is my devotion to this journey of Delquez's. 

After a deep breath in and out, he shook his head. No, that's not it. I don't hate myself, and I am not insane. It's for righteousness I do this. I swore to uphold God's law as a knight, along with Monterayne's honor. And for that reason do I endure this trial. Not because it serves me, but only because it is becoming and righteous. 

Emotionally, Tom still found himself downtrodden, but at least under that, his resolve had been strengthened. Terrible as things now appeared, he had sorted his motivation out, thereby increasing his ability to endure. 

**** 

Hours later, Tom and Alice arrived at the path's fork, just as the sun approached its zenith in the sky. The knight's strategically timed bouts of galloping, followed by longer stretches of brisk walking had assisted in covering the distance in about an hour's less time than previously. 

Immediately recognizing a pile of boulders they had passed on the way from Mintfeld, Tom discerned the correct path to their right, which led northwest, not south as he'd previously believed. Though Alice's palpable frustration remained in the air, he still felt a burden lift from his shoulders. At the very least, they were traveling the correct road again. 

The next several miles they covered passed uneventfully, Tom hoping to stop at a distant creek for lunch. Clear waters trickled down the stream, screaming to be slurped up by their horses and scooped up into the canteens. 

Tom slowed their speed as they skirted a lush knoll. Once he rounded its edge, a broader view of the watered countryside spread out before him. Vibrant plants lined the creek, forming pleasant nesting places for the chirping birds flitting from one branch to another. Their songs filled the air with the light cheer of springtime. 

Tom also spotted a sturdy bridge spanning across the stream, wide enough for two horses to cross side by side. On the boards stood a hooded figure with a drawn saber in its hand. The knight held a hand up to stop Alice's progress. His heart thumped in his chest as he eyed the cloaked swordsman, the very same he had faced two nights ago. 

Clenching his jaw, Tom dismounted his steed. After giving Exuberance a quick pat, he closed the distance between himself and the saber-wielding figure with narrowed eyes and a determined gait. Finally, he stopped at the line where grass terminated and bridge began. His silent stare lingered on the robed swordsman. 

Several long moments passed, and neither Tom or the figure blocking the bridge spoke a word. Not a muscle in the robed person's body moved the whole time, causing irrational doubts to form in Tom's mind. Is that even a real person? 

"Step aside, please." Tom finally commanded, "I have no quarrel with you, and neither does my charge." 

Saber still in its right hand, the swordsman crossed its arms and planted its stance still wider. It then stood motionless again in its new position of defiance. 

Tom huffed. "Perhaps you have a quarrel with us, but that is no matter to me. Step aside, I said." 

No response. Not even the slightest twitch of a solitary muscle. 

"My patience is far thinner than when last we met, so for your own good, I urge you to obedience." 

The figure leapt forward, saber blade whistling through the air at Tom's head. He threw himself to the ground to evade, rolling back to his feet and unsheathing his own longsword. With gritted teeth, Tom blocked a frenzy of varied attacks, cycling through his guard positions to ward off every blow. His foot jetted out to knock his attacker back onto the bridge. 

Tom didn't relent even then. He leapt in with a pair of deadly swings which his opponent only avoided by scrambling on all fours. Farther down the bridge scuttled the cloaked person until it found time to regain footing. With a quick jerk of its arm, the fighter blocked Tom's next attack, but the heft of the two-handed blade sent the saber-wielder stumbling back anyway. 

Speedily, the swordsman rushed in, curved blade pointed at Tom's belly. He gasped and parried. His opponent ducked under his weapon, taking advantage of the opening to swing an attack of its own. Tom's defense succeeded in functionality, but lacked any elegance. 

Wind whipped through the air as the attacker's skewed blade twirled in Tom's face. Not all of the movements were intended to connect, by the appearance of it, but nonetheless, they succeeded in confusing the Monteraynian, causing uncertainty of which attacks to defend against and which to ignore. Many times, he resorted to dodging, barely succeeding at even that. 

Tom backed slowly off the bridge, batting away as many swings of the saber as he could. Here and there, he attempted an attack of his own, but the aggressive techniques of his opponent forced him often to stop mid-motion. 

The cloaked swordsman slowed down for a moment, and Tom wasted no time in filling the void of action. He swung an attack straight at his opponent's midsection. Only with an acrobatic backflip did the fighter escape. 

Tom widened his eyes at the physical feat, but still pressed the attack. Metal rang continuously as the two blades met over and over again. Tom battered his foe's weak defenses with strong attacks which surely would have killed, were it not for the nimbleness of the hooded fighter. 

Ducking underneath Tom's blade, the masked swordsman positioned its stance behind him, almost getting a sly cut in on his back. But with quick reflexes, Tom's arms bent over his head to block the blow. He spun to face his attacker again. 

Both swordsmen backed off for a moment, pacing in slow circles while each examined the other. Their weapons hovered in the space between them, poised to bat away any renewed engagement. The circuit slowly spiraled over to the bridge again. 

Then the unmarked swordsman revived the fight, leaping in with a series of attacks so fast the blade vanished into an ever-moving blur. Tom's eyes descended into dizziness as he attempted to trace the weapon's path. 

He lifted his sword just in time to ward off a blow to his shoulder. Then he blocked a second aimed at his chest. A third directed at his head bounced off his sharpened blade. The fourth in the sequence narrowly missed his leg. 

Tom attempted to return the favor and throw some attacks his opponent's way, but the hooded figure had other plans. Leaping sideways, it avoided the longsword long enough to kick at the right side of Tom's chest. A cry mingled with a cough escaped his lips as he flew back into a wooden post on the edge of the bridge. His spine met the unforgiving material and caused him to hiss at the added influx of agony. 

Tom weakly raised his sword from where he slouched against the post. His foe easily beat it away, and to add injury to the insult, the saber-wielder landed a swift slash on the left side of his face. Tom screamed. Metal tore into his eye socket, slicing deep into his flesh and drawing copious blood. The agony overtook him. 

Collapsing to the ground, unaware how much of the moisture on his face was tears and how much was blood, the last thing he saw before his intact right eye closed against his will was the terrifying sight of his victorious opponent strolling away toward Alice on her mount. 

**** 

A/N: *Uncontrollable screaming* 😱  He/she's back, and back with a vengeance! What's going on?!? 

(What's going on is I'm hoping you enjoyed this chapter [sadistically perhaps] enough to leave it a vote and some comments. 😂) 

Now, I'm just curious, what stands out to you (if anything) about the fights so far in this book? 

With that, I'll leave you hanging for a week. Speaking of sadism...I never promised I didn't have it. Besides that, have a great week! 😆