Page 6 of Steel & Thunder
I continue to practice with my weapon of choice, taking the time to warm myself up. I don’t wanna go out there totally unprepared. I’m in the middle of doing some stretches when I hear a loud bell ring coming from somewhere behind the weapon wall. I guess it’s time. I pull on my clothes, grab my sword, and head through the door.
Another hallway, though I can see the gate on the opposite end is open to the outside. The arena. I make my way toward it, suddenly feeling like I’m walking to my doom.
Which I guess I might be.
Nope, not gonna think like that. I’ll kick this orc’s ass and win us our freedom. Maybe I won’t even have to kill the guy. Maybe I can convince him to yield instead. Everyone wins!
Yeah, right.
The sun is blinding as I walk into the open air. The stands look near packed, the gathered crowd erupting in applause at my appearance. A much more positive reception than I would have expected for a human who’s about to try and kill one of their own. I’m tempted to wave, but opt to remain stoic. This isn’t exactly fun, and the more the crowd cheers, the more I realize how fucked up this all is. Did I make a mistake?
My opponent, Captain Ironstorm, is already on the field. The closer I get, the more I recognize him from the “incident.” He’s got short, cropped black hair, and if it weren’t for the green-olive complexion, he’d almost remind me of my dad. Unlike Dad though, he’s got a full beard, and well maintained at that. His tusks are at least an inch long, maybe an inch and a half, and he has deep, intense looking chocolate-brown eyes. Not sure why I added that last part.
He’s not wearing much in the way of armor, at least not compared to the leathers I remember him in earlier. He’s got at least half a foot of height on me, maybe a little more, and holy shit is he built. No wonder Adam had problems taking him down. Fuck, I remember how he knocked me halfway across the room. If I try to jump at him like I did last time, he’ll wipe the floor with me. I leave some distance between us when I approach, matching my relaxed stance to his.
“Come here often?” Cracking jokes at inappropriate times is a nervous habit. He looks...amused? He gives me a curt nod of acknowledgment but says nothing. I nod in return, but the only thing on my face is determination. This won’t be easy, and... I really don’t want to hurt anyone. But I’m going to do what I have to.
The bell chimes again, and I think it’s to signal the start of the fight. Ironstorm shifts into a more combative stance, though his expression is only slightly more serious. I follow suit, and as the audience shouts, the two of us begin to slowly circle each other. He chose a sword as well, but his weapon is much bigger than mine. Definitely a two-hander.
He makes the first move, leaping at me with a horizontal slash, and I move backward to dodge before jumping forward myself. My own sword is deflected easily, but it doesn’t feel like we’re really fighting yet. Just sizing each other up. He comes at me again, this time with a series of steady over the shoulder swipes. I don’t so much deflect them as I knock them out of the way. He’s got biceps the size of my head, and it’s all I can do to meet his attacks head-on.
Gotta think smarter, David.
He tries to leap at me again, and this time, I not only knock his sword away but deliver a swift kick to the gut too. He’s pushed back slightly, holding his free hand to his stomach for only a moment. Gonna have to use my sword if I stand a chance.
We continue to toy with each other like this for some time. I’m not sure how long, but I’m starting to get tired, and frankly, the people watching seem like they’re getting bored. Time to stop screwing around, I guess. I think back to the fight in the ruins, the way that first orc came at me but totally biffed it and hit the ground. I don’t think my opponent here is quite that stupid, but maybe there’s a way I can still provoke him and use his reaction to my advantage.
I switch tactics, going entirely evasive, making sure I am consistently out of his reach while doing my best to land quick kicks and jabs where I can. Nothing more than small annoyances to him, but that’s the idea. I can tell he’s starting to get riled up when the smirk on his face shifts to a scowl, and then to outright anger. Here we go.
He lunges at me again, much harder and faster than he has before. But instead of jumping back and using his recovery to land a punch, I twist to the side, letting him pass me entirely and putting all my strength into delivering a hard kick to the back of his knee. His leg gives out and down he goes, his sword clattering to the ground just out of reach. This is it. He’s face down on the ground, his neck and back exposed. I raise my sword, ready to land the final blow, his body prone before me to take out.
But I hesitate.
And that’s all it takes.
He pushes off the ground quickly and comes at me, spinning around and delivering his own kick right to my stomach. The wind is knocked out of me, and I am launched backward before hitting the ground. My sword goes flying, to where I don’t know since I’m too focused on trying to breathe again. Before I have the chance to move, I feel a leather boot on my stomach again, though not pressing to hold me down.
In victory.
Once I can breathe again, I look up, seeing his muscular green form standing over me, the sun behind him, his sword pointed down at me. I’m brought back to the ruins, the last time I passed out with him above me. As sounds begin to filter back into my ears, I can hear the crowd roaring, and I can only imagine the sight we are.
Why is he drawing this out? To humiliate me? Just get it over with.
“Do it,” I say once I can find my ability to speak.
“Do what?” His voice is deep, gruff even.
“Kill me.” Fuck, is he going to make me beg to die?
“What? Why would I... Why would I kill you?” He lets his sword arm drop to his side, and though the sun makes it hard to read his expression, he sounds genuinely confused.
“Because that’s what we’re doing? Trying to kill each other?” What the hell is happening right now?
“You were trying to kill me?” Okay, now he’s less confused and maybe a little angry.
“Y-Yes? Weren’t you trying to kill me?” I get a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, beyond the boot-shaped bruise I have growing. “Isn’t that what we were supposed to be doing?”
“NO!” he roars down at me.
