shatter the mind

Move.
down...
dive...
left...
parry...
Shift all weight to the right, and then twist body forward and down, bring up sword.  The clatter of metal on metal means I'm alive. 
retreat...
advance...
cut left...
parry...
They will not come one at a time.  That only happens in stories.  They're coming in as close together as they can, because they know that if I catch any one of them apart, I will cut him down before he can blink.
metal on metal...
cross...
press...
right...
parry...
The metallic ringing, a cacophony of sound ripping through the brisk morning air means that I have another brief moment to live.  The blade must lead the hand.  It makes its own course.  I must follow it to its end.  Tearing fabric,  my favorite shirt, now it's torn.  They destroyed one of my few worldly possessions.  They'll pay.
left...
forward...
advance...
cross...
advance...
parry...
I press the attack.  My blade catches more than fabric.  The subtle morning colors are disrupted by a spray of vivid red, a bright shock across the otherwise subdued palette.  I don't slow my advance.  I'm forced to break my pursuit only when I must dive aside to avoid two incoming long blades.  I clear them aside and slice easily across the now exposed neck of my wounded adversary.  He is still reeling from the wound on his hip, and barely notices my complete corruption of his defense, or his own demise.  I smile.
retreat...
watching...
They are backing off now.  Their odds have just gotten worse, and they're considering how badly they truly want the bounty on my head.  How much is it now?  One thousand gold High Mark, ten thousand?  It doesn't matter.  If they're dead the money wont do them any good.  ...but with one less person to split the money with, that's even more per share.  Greed wins.
left...
dive...
retreat...
advance...
cross...
parry...
My sword tip pierces the right orbital of my nearest opponent.  His head snaps back with the force of the blow, and the reverberation of my blade bouncing off the back of the inside of his skull sends a shock through my arm that lets me know with no uncertainty that I now have only two enemies with which to concern myself.  The time for caution is at an end.  The fight is over, though the two living men are not yet fully cognizant of that fact.
advance...
slice...
forward...
parry...
I let him believe he has me.  His sword passes through my defensive line, but my body is still moving towards him.  I'm into his range, and then too close to attack, before he can even register what has gone wrong.  My left hand darts to my belt and returns with my hunting knife.  I propel the blade upward with a vicious momentum.  The hand and a half length blade passes through the bottom of his jaw with ease, snapping his head back as it pierces his sinus passage, and then his brain.  His friend is turning to run.
spin...
snap wrist...
My hunting knife, still hot and moist from its service inside the head of my last opponent, leaves my hand at a deadly trajectory.  I don't need to, but I allow my momentum to carry me forward, following in the path of my flying blade.  It snaps into the back of the fleeing man, burying itself to the hilt in his vitals, but I am still moving.  My sword snaps across, the thin and sharp edge finalizing the task before me.  A head, freed of the burden of neck and body, tumbles into the air with an absurd grace. 
Sheath weapon.
breathe...