"Then come on." Drawing on the strength that had suddenly appeared in him from who knew where, Oliver raised his sword in one hand. "I have nothing more to say to you. If you want to kill me, stop wasting your breath."
Asha said nothing more. She stepped forward and brought her battle axe down in a vertical chop.
Oliver raised his sword to block. The sharp clang of metal echoed through the cramped cabin, and the shock of the impact sent searing pain through his wounded shoulder.
His sword work had already lost the edge it had possessed in his youth, and now he was grievously wounded as well. But his training remained. After knocking Asha's axe aside, he followed through with a thrust straight at her shoulder.
Asha twisted aside, turned the axe haft, and changed her downward chop into an upward cut aimed directly at Oliver's sword hand.
Oliver drew his sword back to defend. The two weapons clashed several times in the cramped space, sending sparks flying. But he had been wounded for some time and had lost a great deal of blood. That sudden burst of strength had been no more than a dying rally.
Gradually, Oliver's movements grew slower and his breathing heavier.
Asha saw his strength failing and knew he had nothing left. She did not hurry to finish him, merely kept forcing him back with her axe blade, driving him into the corner of the cabin again.
Oliver's back pressed against the wooden cabin wall once more. He knew he had nowhere left to retreat. His sword tip drooped slightly, his steps faltered, and his chest heaved even faster than before.
Seizing an opening, Asha gripped the axe haft in both hands and brought it down with all her strength.
Oliver tried