Mourn of the Sword Chapter 4 The Tourney. Repost

Chapter 3

                               Chapter 4 The Tourney.

I traveled very far away. Because I had a bit of hope that I will find something worth my time. The best warriors were supposed to be in this damn shithole. What a joke.

For two weeks entire city was filled with a waiting atmosphere. Three travelers spend their time differently. Tolg was working in the streets and helped many people who were carrying too heavy purses. Just like dwarf Grifel also received a letter claiming that he is a servant of the mercenary. But half-elf didn't care to explore the city and preferred being in the inn. And what about Cercor? Mercenary went missing every morning and always returned only in the evening.

One time curiosity got better of Tolg and he followed the warrior. Cercor went to a nearby forge, paid smith a few coins and then started practicing against sets of heavy armor. He was using a wooden sword. But each of his relentless strikes still did a lot of damage. And more importantly the warrior didn't seem to get tired. Even after ten hours of non stop attacking warrior's breath was calm, his power and speed were only increasing with time. After witnessing this spectacle Tolg could not believe in his eyes. For the first time in his life the thief felt sorry for humans. He no longer cared about who else will participate in the tournament. The outcome will be the same. Cercor looked like a normal human. But he was far beyond human. Personification of iron will. A monster in human form.

After that time Tolg never followed Cercor again. One time was enough. Dwarf could not believe that someone would be able to master their art so much better than he had mastered theft. This realization was painful, scary but also inspiring. Tolg was afraid but he also felt admiration and respect to the unbelievable fighter. Dwarf was thankful because now he found a new drive to push himself and to reach new unseen horizons.
Long awaited day finally came. City was full of people. Rich, nobles, soldiers, ordinary citizens- everyone were eager to see the bloody spectacle. They could already feel the smell of blood and death in the air. It lured all kinds of scavengers. Those who flew in the air and those who walked on two feet.

City’s streets were full of people who were rushing forward like a wild animals. Some were very unlucky- they fell and were trampled under the feet. But the masses didn't care about that. All the tickets were sold in less than a hour and those who couldn't get to the arena stayed nearby hoping to at least hear some cries of agony.

At long last heralds said the words everyone was waiting for:
‘’The first fight of the tournament will now begin! Kerl versus Sunos!'’
One of the fighters was barely bigger than a child and the other was nearly a giant wielding huge axe. But enormous weapon never reached his agile target. After a few minutes madman with axe was already tired and could barely catch his breath. Now his opponent went on attack. e avoided another swing of the axe at the same time getting closer. Then pretended to strike at giants heart with a sword. Barbarian took the bait tried to block the swing that never came. Instead he only felt a cold blade of a short dagger inside of his throat.

‘’Kerl is the winner of the first fight! Second fight…’’

After a few more hours thirty more fighters left the world of the living. A few more lost their limbs, eyes and got their bones shattered. Finally heralds announced:

‘’Cercor versus Minil!’’

Cercor stepped forward. He seemed to be not only calm but nearly bored. Minil was a short man with very long hands. His movements were clumsy and awkward. Few times he nearly fell to the ground. Humped and limp with one leg. This creature seemed disgusting and pitiful. Nearly all of spectators and even most of the fighters could only laugh after seeing this grotesque man. But Cercor was not laughing with them. For the mercenary one glimpse was enough to tell the truth- Minil was an extraordinary talented fighter who often used other’s opinion about him as his favorite weapon. In fact people who once knew Minil could have told that he is perfectly healthy. But then again...for this reason those who knew him were dead long time ago.

Cercor did not attack blindly. He moved forward and backwards. For a brief moment he was behind Minil. Mercenary used this opportunity to throw knife towards his opponent’s neck.

Minil smiled slightly and removed his mask of sluggishness. He quickly moved his head and the blade barely missed. Then Minil lifted his head and turned back. His face no longer expressed former indifference. Small sharp eyes observed every move of Cercor. His lips now made a strange grimace:

‘’Interesting. It is clear that my usual performance will not work on you. So why don't we start the real thing?’’

‘’I am fine with that.’’ remarked Cercor. At the same time he started dashing closer.

Minil made a single step forward and then froze like a statue. Cercor began his attack but was forced to step back. Minil started swinging two short swords and created a blade barrier that was constantly blitzing around. His defence had no openings. It seemed like anyone foolish enough to approach the killer will be sliced to the tiny bits. After seeing the speed of his blades many fighters in the past got scared. All of them lost their confidence. And their lives.

Ironically this performance was slightly based on an illusion. Minil was indeed a great swordsman. But he was not as great as he seemed. Usually his enemies were simply expect less from him. His skills were surprising. And that surprise made Minil’s victims believe that he was far better than his real level. Usually that was a deadly mistake.

This time was different. Cercor was never ruled by his fears or doubts. Every time when mercenary had faced with a problem or an obstacle he charged forward. Obliterating anything that stood in his way. The same happened in this fight. After witnessing a skilled opponent Cercor felt the thrill of the fight and attacked with a ferocity of the wild beast. His blade smashed at the iron ball created by Minil. Only to be stopped. Again and again. Most of Cercor’s attacks were interrupted at the very beginning. This lasted for about ten minutes. Most of the spectators thought that both fighters were evenly matched. But such assumption was wrong. Outcome of the fight was already decided.

After yet another clash one of Minil’s swords was broken. Killer knew that this will happen sooner or later. Unlike the spectators Minil understood that he was outclassed. Cercor was holding back a lot of power and speed. Instead he used precision- each of his strikes landed at the same spot of Minil’s blades. Both fighters knew that one the killer’s swords will break soon. And both waited for this moment. Minil still had a few trump cards and believed they are most likely to succeed at this time when Cercor had the greatest advantage He threw a broken sword at his opponent and jumped back creating some space between them. His free hand slided into a pocket and back. And then he threw a handful of sand into Cercor’s eyes and at the same time attacked a blinded warrior.

This attempt could have worked against most enemies. But not against Cercor. Even after being blinded mercenary caught the hand of Minil and crushed it instantly. At the same time Cercor started attacking. Minil tried to get away but he already knew that this time his fate is sealed. Cold blade was coming closer and closer. After witnessing the upcoming death Minil still found a bit of time to remember his miserable life. As a child he lived in the streets and often fought with stray dogs for a slice of bread. Then he found his calling. Became a killer. After that never ending rivers of blood and fold flowed through Minil's hands. Women, dice and wine. Once again empty pockets. More blood. Much much more. Enough blood to flood the rest of his life.

Did any of that had any purpose? Any meaning? No. Minil wanted to live. So everyone else had to die. But now death came for him anyway. Well maybe that is fair? Dying by a sword after living by a sword seemed like a appropriate ending. And yet Minil still wanted to live. Till the very last moment when Cercor’s blade cut of his head. Even after that Minil still remained alive long enough to hear joyful screams of the crowd and heralds declaring:

‘’The winner is Cercor! This is the end of the first day of the tournament…’’