Elvenborn by Mercedes Lackey, Andre Norton

planned on, no one really wanted to remain any longer, and both lords lost most of their entourages, leaving only their hu¬man bodyguards and one or two other slaves in attendance.
    As for Aelmarkin's guests, they had all departed as well, probably returning to the Great Hall and the food and drink and other pleasures they had abandoned to watch the combat. That left only Aelmarkin, Lord Lyon and a young er-Lord who was probably his son, a couple of young lords who looked to be friends of his son, and Kyrtian. Those who remained seated themselves, and waited with varying degrees of impatience for something to happen.
    Gel was no stranger to getting into armor quickly, and nei¬ther, apparently, was Lord Lyon's red-haired bodyguard. Both appeared at the same door of the arena a remarkably short time later; Gel must have told Kaeth not to bother about weapons, for neither man carried any. Kaeth looked up at his master, who nodded to Lord Wyvarna; Kaeth immediately picked up one of the discarded shields stacked at the side of the arena bearing the azure serpent, and Gel took one of the discarded white alicorn shields.
    "We've agreed to longsword and shield, master," Gel called up, in a servile voice that Kyrtian hardly recognized. He sup¬pressed a nervous chuckle, and nodded.
    Then Kyrtian fixed his gaze on a point on the sand at Gel's feet, and concentrated, drawing motes of power out of himself, and spinning them into the fabric of a pair of his very special blades.
    He'd conjured up longswords so many times, that it was hardly any effort at all to spin out a mere pair of them. The air above the sand misted briefly, then shimmered, and a pair of fine blades condensed out of the mist as Kyrtian felt a slight inward
     
    drain of power. He looked up to see that Aelmarkin was watch¬ing closely, with a look of intense concentration on his face.
    I wonder if he can follow what I'm doing? Has he the talent to read all the special modifications I've made?
    Gel gestured to the identical swords and let Kaeth pick first.
    The bodyguard picked up the nearest, and gave it an experi¬mental swing, then rapped his shield with it. The shield gave off a perfectly normal metallic clang, and Kaeth nodded with satis¬faction. "Feels like a regulation longsword, Lord Lyon," he called up into the viewing stands, squinting against the light. "Maybe a bit better balanced than most."
    "These blades will act in all respect like a normal battle weapon," Kyrtian assured the few who were left in the stands, but concentrating on Lord Lyon. "With a single exception, that is. They will not cause any physical damage. Gel, please offer your opponent a target."
    Gel held out his sword-arm with a grin, knowing that Kyrtian would eliminate the shock of being struck for this part of the demonstration.
    "Kaeth, if you would swing at Gel please, and cut off his arm?"
    Lord Lyon's slave did not hesitate; he took a full, overhand swing at the arm Gel extended for him as Lord Lyon leaned for¬ward a little with interest. The blade passed through Gel's arm, leaving a glowing line, and making about half his body glow.
    "Wounds cause a slight shock to the wounded man to tell him that he has been wounded, and the blade leaves a mark that he and any referees can see," Kyrtian explained. "There is no other effect on the fighter so struck, but for the purposes of scoring, there is full attention paid to the realities of battle. The longer Gel stands there, the more of him will glow, representing how close he is to death by blood-loss from such a massive wound. If he had only gotten a slight wound, there would only have been a mark and a shock. Eventually, according to the rules we follow, he will glow all over and be forced to retire."
    "And if the wound was immediately mortal, he'd glow all over as well?" Lord Lyon supplied.
    "Yes, and he would get a larger, quite unmistakable shock."
     
    Kyrtian replied. He permitted himself a smile. "We allow for the heat of combat