Ghost In Blood by Owen Jones

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It was in this void lacking sound and movement that Kater realised suddenly death had become more than a game of pride, it was a fight of reality, a reality that swiftly leap across the ground to launch a barrage of startlingly swift attacks.
Light blazed from all four swords as the dual began at a frantic pace. For Kater there was no time for thoughts of attack, indeed, no time for thought at all.
Nogash began one set of blistering attacks after another, every attack launched from a different angle on a different level, each striking with bewildering speed, each getting closer and closer to passing his ineffective guard.
Kater let out huge gasping breaths as Nogash stepped back a pace to launch another offensive. In this brief interlude he studied his opponent's face and noticed with a grim form of pleasure that the Biare too was tiring under such unforgiving heat, added to the lack of early success he had been forced to face with the blade.
Some of this minimal amount of hope must have been evident in Kater's face, conveying to Nogash only disrespect, who, after screaming an inaudible series of taunts, charged with both swords held high above his head.
Even in retrospect, in briefly flitting memories and dreams Nogash's face was a horror. After looking straight into Kater's eyes his face swelled, disgorging hatred and pure anger. Kater never had understood what he could have done to make this deadly warrior so angry. Whatever the slight was, it gave birth to a lightening volley of feints, thrusts and slashes that left him reeling. To this very day he still could not comprehend how his reflexes allowed only a diagonal cut down across his right pectoral to pierce his defence.
Miraculous as this defence was Nogash had simply stared in disbelief, unbelieving of what his eyes communicated to him, that not only had Kater blocked every attack but had suffered only a minor injury, little more than a scratch that would and did only leave a faint scar. Again Nogash tried another series of attacks which seemed weaker, more hesitant in comparison to what Kater had already faced.
To some of these attacks Kater tried slight counter moves which quickly became full blown ripostes as he forced Nogash rapidly on the defensive.
In the final moments of the duel Kater anticipated Nogash's orthodox feint and was moving to combat it almost before the Biare had launched it.
When it came, Kater stepped parallel to his opponent's left side forcing Nogash's right hand sword out of range whilst isolating the weaker left arm. As Kater stood there, effortlessly piercing up through Nogash's side directly to the heart he heard one shocked, drawn word, spoken through the blood bubbling from his defeated opponent's mouth – How?
With an uncomprehending look on his face the peerless swordsman toppled sideways, dead at the dusty feet of a stunned Kater.


2
For months after many had put the victory down to luck with the possibility of skill involved.