Like a bat in flight, Lord Carrick slid between the shadows as they moved back and forth across the courtyard, his gaze never leaving the young slave as he continued to parry and dodge, never once attempting to riposte or to launch an attack of his own.
He could tell the boy's strength was fading, that his too-human muscles would be burning and that the air in his lungs would be harsh and painful. He sidestepped to avoid a long, sweeping cut of the blade and span, ending behind Liam. "You've held nothing back," he stated as he continued to block each attack, the swings of Liam's sword now coming slower and with less force. "You're a fire that's burned out too quickly. Like all mortals."
When he judged Liam to be at the end of his reserves and too exhausted to fight on, Carrick lifted his sword, the point resting against the base of his slave's throat. The sharp tip of the blade pressed into the tender skin, ready to draw blood if only a fraction more pressure was used.