I adjusted my mask as beads of sweat trickled down the sides of my face. Cold sweat? Perhaps. One could tell my adversary was the more experienced one between the two of us. Compared to me, he had small, effective parries and his control of the blade was pinpoint. I had been lucky to have gotten this far.
But I wasn't going to be thinking about our gulf in experience right in the middle of a bout. There just isn't enough time.
I had just feigned an attack on his quarte, right near where his heart was. I was to then circle my blade clockwise and avoid his parry. But he had recognised the feint and gave a quick counter-parry, our blades clashing in hopes of thwarting each other's course.
I leapt back in fear of a riposte. The attack had failed again. As I retreated, normal circumstances would dictate that it was then his turn to pressure me. Surprisingly, he had not followed up even though the flow of the bout seemed to be in his favour. He probably thought I was laying yet another trap for him but I would have just counter-attacked were I to be in his shoes.
I stole a quick glance at the scoreboard. I had 13, he had 14 and was one point away from winning. The timer showed 3 seconds left. The best outcome right now is probably a tie. Then at least I would have one more minute to get a point out of my opponent.
The problem was that he had become accustomed to my tricks, and had begun anticipating them. All I could do now was to surprise him. With what? A simple attack? It might just work. No disengages and no second intentions. I would just go in with my blade.
Time was running out. I extended my sword arm, all the while pointing at his quarte, and executed a quick step-forward and lunged. For a split second, he did not react. He thought it was a feint and was waiting for my real attack. But that was my real attack. He would be too late in realising that. I felt a sudden sense of exhilaration at the anticipation of a point.
But his well-honed reflexes managed to parry my blade in time.
Happening all in the blink of an eye, I did hit him somewhere on his chest, but only after he parried my blade. Now that he had the right-of-way, he riposted immediately and hit me square on my arm. The scoreboard screamed a loud beep. Time was up. He missed the target area and did not score. But neither did I as he had successfully defended my attack with his parry-riposte, even though it was off-target.
The chill air hits my face as I ripped out my mask. The high from the adrenaline drained from me quickly as I felt ambivalent about the result. It was better than I had expected. But I was close in the chase and lost my chance at winning. No longer the aggressor I was in the bout, I raised my blade, saluted my opponent and shook his hand.
But I wasn't going to be thinking about our gulf in experience right in the middle of a bout. There just isn't enough time.
I had just feigned an attack on his quarte, right near where his heart was. I was to then circle my blade clockwise and avoid his parry. But he had recognised the feint and gave a quick counter-parry, our blades clashing in hopes of thwarting each other's course.
I leapt back in fear of a riposte. The attack had failed again. As I retreated, normal circumstances would dictate that it was then his turn to pressure me. Surprisingly, he had not followed up even though the flow of the bout seemed to be in his favour. He probably thought I was laying yet another trap for him but I would have just counter-attacked were I to be in his shoes.
I stole a quick glance at the scoreboard. I had 13, he had 14 and was one point away from winning. The timer showed 3 seconds left. The best outcome right now is probably a tie. Then at least I would have one more minute to get a point out of my opponent.
The problem was that he had become accustomed to my tricks, and had begun anticipating them. All I could do now was to surprise him. With what? A simple attack? It might just work. No disengages and no second intentions. I would just go in with my blade.
Time was running out. I extended my sword arm, all the while pointing at his quarte, and executed a quick step-forward and lunged. For a split second, he did not react. He thought it was a feint and was waiting for my real attack. But that was my real attack. He would be too late in realising that. I felt a sudden sense of exhilaration at the anticipation of a point.
But his well-honed reflexes managed to parry my blade in time.
Happening all in the blink of an eye, I did hit him somewhere on his chest, but only after he parried my blade. Now that he had the right-of-way, he riposted immediately and hit me square on my arm. The scoreboard screamed a loud beep. Time was up. He missed the target area and did not score. But neither did I as he had successfully defended my attack with his parry-riposte, even though it was off-target.
The chill air hits my face as I ripped out my mask. The high from the adrenaline drained from me quickly as I felt ambivalent about the result. It was better than I had expected. But I was close in the chase and lost my chance at winning. No longer the aggressor I was in the bout, I raised my blade, saluted my opponent and shook his hand.
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