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So I've been working on a novel and yesterday I had to write a fight scene. These aren't the things I'm best at and I'm always unsure about how they turn out. Mostly I'm looking for feedback on the flow and timing of this piece. It's just the one chapter that the fight happens in. It's a first draft as well so if there's any typos or anything, feel free to point them out as well. Thanks guys, hope you're well smile -Em



The remainder of the day was spent fitting armour for Skirvai, Delarand and Loric. Skirvai’s chainmail was slightly too long, Delarand’s helm was too big and Loric’s vambraces pinched but there was no time. No one was sure how far away the other armies were – the fighting could start at any minute and Skirvai still needed to find a way to unify the naiads. Time was running short and his nerves were running high. The long walk from the armourer to the training field was not helping.

“You are going to be fine,” Delarand crooned in his ear as they walked hand in hand, their shoulders pressed together. “You’ve fought like this before; you’ve got the poison from the fiorads-”

“How did you get that anyway?” Loric interrupted.

“I stole it from the watchtower when we were gathering weapons. The fools were stupid enough to leave it lying around out in the open after they’d drugged you,” Skirvai explained before he looked to Delarand and nodded for him to continue.

“You’ll be fine,” Delarand said simply, shrugging before he turned his eyes forward. They stood on the edge of the training field and the crowd that had already gathered was slowly parting before them.

“It makes me feel like I have some highly contagious disease when they do this,” Skirvai murmured through gritted teeth to his husband.

Delarand hooked his arm around Skirvai’s, holding his hand as they walked.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’d still be this close to you if you did.”

Skirvai looked to the dryad with a smile before he leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He was quickly growing partial to this sign of affection.

“Just remember that Vaeren’s going to be nasty,” Lendiin added. “He doesn’t like you, from what I’ve heard he never has. He’ll do whatever he can to defame you even more – excuse my language but, he’ll do anything to stop the “vermin” winning.”

“He said that?” Delarand asked, half shocked and half amazed.

“Don’t worry about it, Skir’,” Loric cut in, flashing looks of disapproval to Delarand and Lendiin before he put an arm around Skirvai’s shoulders and led him to the edge of the field. “Just remember what your father taught you. You can do this – this is your crown and your country, you’re the one who’s meant to rule, not this little aristocratic brat.”

“Thanks Loric,” Skirvai whispered as he nodded shakily. Delarand darted up to his side, pulling him into a warm embrace and pressing a warm kiss to his lips.

“Good luck my love,” Delarand whispered, leaving after a lingering look before Skirvai turned towards his opponent at the opposite end of the field.

“Have you got the inhibitor?” Vaeren called as he checked his vambraces.
Skirvai pulled one of the small vials from a small pouch he had brought with him. “Wouldn’t have left home without it,” he yelled back. He quickly unstoppered the vial in his hand and gulped it down before taking his helm from Lendiin and heading over to Vaeren, the other vial of the inhibitor still in the pouch he clutched close to him.

“Ready to be defeated and shamed, princeling?” Vaeren spat.

Skirvai simply handed him the vial. “Drink all of it,” he murmured, not meeting the other naiad’s eyes.

“Scared?”

“You wish,” Skirvai said firmly before he pulled the guard down on his helm and headed back to his end of the field where he would start. He tossed the pouch to the ground, nodded to Delarand before he took up his sword and turned just in time to block a sneaking strike to his side. Vaeren yelled in frustration as Skirvai scampered backwards, holding his sword up in front of him, ready to block or strike – whatever came first.

Vaeren charged again, Skirvai deflecting the blade easily and spinning to watch Vaeren stagger to the ground. The naiad ran backwards to give himself some ground as he watched the king throw himself up from the ground. They began circling, an audible hush falling over the crowd around them. Skirvai could see Vaeren was trying to plan his next move but he wasn’t going to give him any incentive to strike.

Just as Skirvai began to lapse into deeper thought, Vaeren rushed forward, his sword slashing through the air before it caught on Skirvai’s unprotected arm. He was forced to the ground, crying out as the fresh wound collided with the ground. He heard the faint whistle of a blade cutting through the air, managing to turn just in time to evade another injury. Ignoring the pain, Skirvai pushed himself to his feet and swung around, sword outstretched and seeking to crash against Vaeren’s.

And it did.

But it wasn’t Vaeren’s sword.

“You b*****d!” Skirvai growled as his eyes zeroed in on the sword’s engravings. “How dare you take up my father’s sword!”

“You ran!”

“I came back!”

“And now you’re trying to kill me!”

Skirvai pulled away, gathered momentum as he span and managed to land a blow. Vaeren yelped and leapt back, blood spilling down his side from a wound between two ribs. Skirvai felt panic rise. That could actually be fatal. If the naiads really did like Vaeren more than him, he could be arrested for treason. And executed.

He managed to find Delarand in the crowd, feeling he may not ever see his love again before his legs were cut out from underneath him. He didn’t bother to acknowledge the pain, only searching for his assailant. Vaeren towered over him, sword raised above his head. The only plan Skirvai could think of was risky, his helm as slipping and with the jerky movement he was planning; it would fall off entirely. Delarand’s worried eyes flashed in his mind before he turned on his side. Vaeren’s sword crashed down before he tripped over Skirvai’s moving body. A sharp kick to the stomach. The graze of blade scraping over skin. The two men lay in the grass for a moment but Skirvai was on his feet again, holding his sword to Vaeren who watched angrily.

“So kill me. Avenge your father,” he threatened.

Skirvai shook his head, his muscles aching now. “There’s no revenge to seek for Mezrien,” he murmured as he lowered his sword. “And this was a fight for the throne, not to the death.”

Skirvai thrust his sword into the ground, the blade standing upright before he turned away and began limping back towards his friends. His head was pounding and sweat poured down the back of his neck. He ran a hand through his head, the action disturbing his hearing but Delarand’s shout rang clear and true. He instinctively span on his heel just in time to see Vaeren run towards him with both swords, the fire of hate in his eyes. He had no protection and when the thought materialised, he reached back towards Delarand only to trip on his feet and fall to the ground. His ears rang but he saw something collapse on the ground from the corner of his eye. He pushed himself onto his side and looked around to find Vaeren collapsed on the ground, an arrow protruding from his chest. He couldn’t connect it all in his head and before he had a chance to map it all out, hands were pulling him into a sitting position, to stand, to walk with his arms over their shoulders.

“Skir’, Skirvai, can you hear me?”

Strange voices. Where’s Del’? Need him. Vaeren died. Leg hurts. Where am I going? Del’…

“Skirvai!”

The yell brought him back and he looked around at the faces surrounding him. Pale blue hair, black mop with golden-flecked eyes, dark curls and wide green eyes. He reached for the curls, the muscles and fibres of his arm protesting before he pulled himself forward and stumbled into his husband’s arms.

“Del’! Oh Gods, I was scared I’d lose you!” Skirvai cried, burying his face in the crook of the dryad’s neck.

“It’s alright, you’re safe now,” Delarand whispered simply as he rubbed his love’s back, knowing Skirvai was still too distressed from the battle to feel any bruises on his back.

“I love you! I love you so much!”

“I love you too,” Delarand cooed as he gently rocked Skirvai, bouncing back and forth on his knees where they stood. He looked to Lendiin and Loric. “Get his father’s sword, clean it and take it back to Vaeren’s tent. Then go find the healers and have them ready for him. We’ll need blankets and something to calm his nerves.”

“We’ll find it, Del’,” Loric assured him, squeezing the dryad’s shoulder before he and Lendiin ran off into the sea of canvas shelters.

Skirvai tried to pull away but found it only hurt his legs standing on his own. He reached for Delarand again, his husband willingly providing the support as the naiad cried from the pain.

“Where does it hurt, Skir’?” Delarand asked as he carefully began inching them towards a small bench at the edge of the training field.

“Everywhere,” he whimpered, gasping as Delarand helped him sit down. They kept his legs out straight and his arms around Delarand’s waist.

“We’ll have a short rest then we need to get back to the tent, alright?”

“To Lendiin’s?” Skirvai asked, sounding sleepy and meek.

“No, to our tent.”

“Our tent?” Skirvai questioned, squinting up at Delarand.

“You’re the king now, Skir’ – you won the fight,” Delarand whispered as he swept some blue hair behind his husband’s ear.

“But I didn’t kill Vaeren…” Skirvai reasoned. His eyelids were drooping and his need for support was growing as his head fell to rest on Delarand’s shoulder. He was quickly tiring out.

“No … but I did,” Delarand murmured before he carefully looked back towards where he had stood. A bow now laid there, a quiver of arrows tipped over beside it in the grass. Delarand widened his visual scope to see that the crowd had quietly turned to face him and Skirvai who was now beyond comprehension of the outside world.

A younger naiad girl stepped forward, a faint blush on her cheeks as she held two fingers together and brought them to her forehead.

“Long live the king,” she whispered with a smile before she curtsied and stepped away again.

The four words became a chant that spread across the crowd quickly and it took all he had for Delarand not to cry tears of joy. He held Skirvai close and wished for him to hear his people wish him well.

Things would get better. Skirvai was king. And this was the first step back to equality across Molnessri.