The Volga Ruby
an excerpt

The duellists stretched their sword arms, circling the blades, moving slowly side to side, like a cobra about to strike, waiting for the moment. It was Anatoly who struck first, thrusting forward with his blade, James stepped back and pushed his sabre up and under, managing to parry the blow, but instantly awakened to the power that Anatoly held in his thrusts. James countered now, dummying left before slashing to the right, but the Cossack stepped quickly to one side, just escaping the oncoming blade. They resumed circling each other, jabbing and deflecting the occasional blow, waiting for the first to land home, waiting for someone to take the gamble that would open up the fight.

James flicked his blade upwards, pushing back Anatoly's sword, and stepping forward into a thrust, countered quickly as the big Cossack brought his sword down to block, James pulled back quickly then slashed upwards and to the left, catching the arm of Anatoly's shirt, cutting the fabric and opening a glancing wound. He looked up at his opponents face, but he had not even blinked. Anatoly took a few steps back, bringing James onto him and then smashed his sword to the side, forcing the other blade away and holding it back with his strength. James struggled to bring his sword back across, but Anatoly had his own sword held solidly and he was unable to move it. Anatoly stepped forward and snarled. “You will rue the day you drew the blood of a Cossack, English Pig!” And with that he stepped back and slashed with his sword, James quickly jumped backwards, avoiding the tip of the blade and bringing his own across to counter with a thrust. There were a number of things he could think that would make him wish to run a man through, and by offending his lady, his country and his honour, this ugly brute seemed to be doing them all.

The waltz continued apace, each of the fighters parrying blow after blow before the next landed when Anatoly brought his blade forward and James pulled back quickly to avoid it, but getting caught across the back of his sword hand, blood starting to trickle out over the hilt. Enough was enough, he thought back to his fencing teacher, who described it as chess speeded up, if he could not out think Anatoly, surely he did not deserve to win. He pulled back, ducked low and made as if to go for Anatoly's side, but as the Cossack brought his sword down to block James darted backwards, pulling his sword down and round before thrusting up at Anatoly, digging deep into his shoulder. Anatoly grimaced and flinched backwards and seizing his chance James pulled back across, smashing the sword out of the big man's grip, now weakened by his shoulder wound. The Russian second stepped quickly forward but was motioned back by Harris as James kicked the Cossacks sword to the side, backing him into a corner. “Now you're mine, scoundrel.” The Cossack tried to step aside but James used his sabre to shepherd him back. He moved to thrust forward but didn't follow up, unbalancing Anatoly and watching him stagger backwards and fall to the floor.

James had him where he wanted him and brought the blade of his sabre to rest on his shirt. “You will never, repeat, never, go near Nataliya Razinsky again. Should I hear even the slightest hint that you have annoyed her, I will find you, and I will kill you. I will cross oceans, climb mountains, whatever it takes, but any further slights by you will not go unavenged. I have won this duel, and I spare your life, honour dictates you obey.” James stepped back, returning his sabre to his scabbard and was turning toward the door when it swung open and revealed the figure of The Tsar, flanked by two of his guards.