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Continuing from Disturbed Magic (until or unless a better title comes along) and picking up from last week’s post, in which a group of half a dozen guards from a merchant caravan were harassing a woman in an alley and somewhat recklessly challenged Kel to make them stop.
There was no reply, but suddenly there was a sword balanced vertically on the palm of Kel’s hand; a quick flick of the wrist and the sword leapt into the air only to be snatched into a hand that obviously knew how to use it. “I am.” With a practiced twirl of the blade Kel settled into a fighting position. “Any other questions?”
The leader thrust the woman away from him and she stumbled and fell, but Kel had no time to worry about her as all six men drew their swords and the battle was joined.
And ended almost before it had begun. The men were trained fighters, but they had never faced anyone like Kel, who whirled and spun, sword flashing and singing as it cut through the air and their flesh. A few minutes later the alley was littered with bodies and Kel instinctively glanced back toward the entrance, but the fight had not seemed to have drawn any more attention than their attack on the woman had.