The guard asked his dad for any tips. A fair question but Lock didn’t even hear his dad’s answer. Probably something like, ‘fight clean’, ‘stay calm’ or ‘keep your eyes open’. Regardless, if this guy needed advice he was in trouble. His time would have been better served studying his opponent. Like what Lock was doing.
The guard was up against another young fighter, in his mid-twenties. He wore no armor aside from simple leather pants. That wouldn’t do much to stop a blade, nor would the loose flitting silk shirt. But that didn’t matter, because his weapon was a single-handed rapier. That was uncommon to take into the cage. Uncommon might give him an advantage if he knew how to use it.
Judging by his tan skin and the scars on his knuckles he knew what he was doing. Best guess was that he spent time as a pirate, or privateer and would use Slip style much like Val’n Dare. The rapier would give him speed, but less power and he would struggle to counter a long sword. The guard would need to be weary of quick thrusts, but if he countered one of those with a strong enough overhead, he could disarm his opponent or even snap the rapier in half.
After a few words of encouragement from Flint the young guard entered the cage and showed off some flashy but impractical swordplay. He even tossed his sword into the air and reversed grip at one point. If that was any indication of what was to come, the guard was doomed.
His opponent, the pirate guy, wasted no time entering the cage as soon as he was done. He gave a sort of mocking bow then squatted down and sprang into a backflip. His feet tapped the ground and he sprang forward into a front flip. Again, his feet tapped the ground and he vaulted onto the side of the cage. A quick slash, slash, and he vaulted again. This time he caught the top of the cage with one hand and swung like a monkey into a sort of whirlwind spin.
Finally, he landed on three limbs with his saber pointed at his opponent.
The acrobatics were cool, irrelevant to a real fight but cool to watch and the crowd loved it. While the cheers continued the two fighters both took a knee and waited for their stamina to regen.
A minute or two later they both stood up and prepared to fight.
The first exchange happen exactly how Lock predicted. Pirate guy lead with a thrust, the guard countered and pirate guy used Slip style to escape. The second exchange happen the same way. The third time, however, the guard surprised everyone, this time he twisted out of the way of the thrust, let go of his sword and tackled his opponent with a shoulder to the gut.
They went down, the guard swatted the pirate’s hands down, smashed him in the face with a headbutt to stun him. Then with a cool efficiency the guard pinned the pirate guy’s head to the floor and delivered a single precise punch to his face. With his head pinned to the ground the punch hit hard. Hard enough that it knocked him out cold.
The whole fight lasted no more than thirty seconds and based on the silence that lingered it was not what anyone expected. Except for Lock’s dad.
“What’d you tell him?” asked Lock.
Flint kept himself from smiling but his eyes lit up, “To not screw around.”
“You knew he would win?” asked Lock.
“Of course,” said Flint, “That’s Chance Grayson’s nephew.”
“Well shit,” said Lock.
“Yup, those two guards we saw in the tunnel called in some favors,” said Flint.
Yeah favors with some of the best fighters in the city. Chance Grayson wasn’t just a guardsman, his family ran the best school for swordsmanship in the Hinterlands. If one of them showed up it wasn’t for money. It was to send a message, screw with us and we’ll hit back.
Knowing the way the guard did things, this wouldn’t be the only fight that they ended with such cold efficiency.
Chapter 13:
As predicted, the guard swept every single fight. Several times they won within seconds, and every time they did it with a cool efficiency that spoke volumes. Chance Grayson himself even showed up and took on two opponents at the same time. Or more accurately he humiliated them.
The first fight seemed to catch Grimm’s attention and with each win Grimm stared deeper at Flint. Grimm knew what was coming but he didn’t seem concerned in the least. He looked amused.
False bravado perhaps, or he had improved tenfold over the years. It was possible, they had not fought in close to twenty years. Not to mention in the past month Grimm had killed six men. With this after image skill he was going to be tough to beat. After Image did a hell of a lot more than create fake copies. When Cliff used it, he sped up fast enough that Lock could only track him with Flash Step.
Anyone without the ability that helped to track his movement was hopelessly outmatched. Even his dad would need to be careful, if he failed to use Flash Step before Grimm used After Image or he would be at the same disadvantage.
When it was time for his dad’s match, Lock felt more nervous than before his own fight. His hands were cold and covered his sweat. At least he wasn’t sweating through his shirt.
As his dad got up to enter the cage Lock stood up, “Hey dad, kick ass.”
His dad flashed a toothy grin, “Be over before you know it.”
Lock took a deep breath and hoped beyond hope that his dad did not do anything embarrassing.
Then he held his breath and waited for the inevitable. The gate slammed shut behind his dad and sure enough with one move his dad did turned the blood thirsty vibe of the place into a comedy show.
He started to dance. The same stupid jig he did whenever he was excited. As embarrassed as Lock was, he couldn’t deny that it was funny. Based on the crowd’s laughter he was not the only one.
The show wasn’t over there though, while still doing his little dance Flint unsheathed his sword and tossed it into the air. As the sword flipped end over end, he stuck his hand out with the palm up. In one smooth motion the sword came down perfectly into his hand. Then instead of grasping the handle he cushioned the sword’s momentum until it was balanced on his palm.
With the sword still balanced Flint turned his head to look at his son and gave him the dumbest thumbs up. With his attention diverted, his dad over balanced the sword. Except he didn’t drop it, not really, and that wasn’t a simple thumbs up. It was a signal to watch close.
As the sword tumbled to the ground Flint used Flash Step then he caught the sword with his foot and flung it across the cage. Between the strength of the kick and his enhanced speed the sword flew almost too fast to be seen. Flint moved even faster and still somehow found time to goof off. Instead of sprinting across the cage he skipped. Last he did a little sideways hop, clicked his heels and snatched the sword out of the air. When his feet touched the ground, he tucked into a spin and ended with a bow.
His silly dance had most of the audience cracking up but after his high-speed antics even the serious fighters were on the feet laughing.
All except Grimmlock. He stood at the opposite end of the cage with his hands in his pockets and the same stern look on his face that he’d been wearing all night.
“Still such a child,” said Grimm, “It’s a miracle you brought a real sword.”
“It was a curtesy,” said Flint as he sheathed his sword, “but if you prefer, I can go get one of those sticks the boys were swinging around.”
“You done?” asked Grimm.
“Go on, take your ten seconds of fame or would you prefer to skip to the chop chop?” asked Flint. The words may have been playful but his tone shifted to all business.
“Don’t be in such a rush,” said Grimm, “I know what these good people want to see.” Then his entire body blurred. Like his son there was a shift in the air then a bunch of images of Grimm appeared. Unlike Cliff there were at least half a dozen of them, and they all overlapped each other obstructing the view of Grimm’s original copy. Some had drawn their blade and were slicing at an unseen enemy. Others stood there motionless but all of them had one thing in common. Their gaze was fixed on Flint.
Grimm took a step forward with his hands
still in his pockets, and the after images scattered, “Did you see it? Don’t worry I’ll show you again.”
Lock sure as hell didn’t see it and his dad gave no indication that he did either. Grimm used his ability again. This time more than twice as many images blurred into existence. Far too many for Lock to count, and they were so detailed that he couldn’t tell which one was real. Not only that they lingered for a good three seconds. In a fight that was a lifetime.
Even with Flash Step there was no way Lock could see through an illusion like that. And there were way too many images to slash through.
Lock was so overwhelmed by what he was watching that he never saw when one of Grimm’s copies appeared less than a foot in front of his dad. It was an exact copy of Grimm with his hands in his pockets. That was probably the real Grimm. That suspicion was confirmed when all of the images burst into a cloud of mist except for the one standing in front of Flint, “Did you see it?”
God, dad I hope you did because Grimm’s ability was terrifying.
Flint stared into Grimm’s face motionless, “Whenever you’re ready.”
In reply Grimm removed his hand from his pocket and rested it on the hilt of his sword. Flint mirrored the movement and grasped the handle of his sword.
The two stood there sizing each other up for a solid two minutes then without warning Grimm disappeared. A split second later six different images of Grimm sprang up around his dad and attacked from separate angles.
It all happened so fast Lock never had a chance to use Flash Step. He had no clue what happen until his dad scattered all of the images. Thankfully, Flint was far faster than his son. He half unsheathed his sword then twisted to block the only real attack.
“Slick move,” said Flint as he planted his feet.
Grimm shoved with his sword to put some distance between them, “Lucky counter.”
Flint shrugged then fully drew his sword to square off against Grimm, “Try again?”
The first exchange happened too fast for Lock to catch, but the second time there was more warning and he was determined to follow as best as he could. He activated Flash Step a full second before Grimm struck. Plenty of time to pick up on the slightest movement. He even caught the flutter in the air around Grimm when he threw an image of himself. The air looked distorted, similar to how air warps above rocks after they have been baking in the sun for several hours.
After the air distorted an image appeared in the air above his father. The image was mid swing when his dad scattered it with a flick of his sword. As soon as the first image disappeared a second one sprang up on the other side of Flint. That too was scattered mid swing. Then a third sprang up and a fourth. Each time Flint scattered them with little flicks of his sword. None of the movements were real attacks, it was more like he was shooing away an annoying bug than fighting.
The whole time Flint’s eyes were fixed on the original image of Grimm. That meant his dad was able to see through the fake images. At least when he was using Flash Step. Flash Step didn’t have a set duration but it put tremendous strain on your muscles, which made it hard to hold for more than a few seconds at a time, at least for Lock. His dad seemed to be able to keep it going for longer. Actually, he pushed it so long at times that Lock swore he lived in that sped up state.
The other limit of Flash Step came from stamina. It drained stamina four times faster than normal. In terms of stamina abilities that was a high cost. At first he guessed Grimm’s After Image ability had a similar cost but he’d been using it too frequently for that to be the case. Either Grimm’s stamina regened at an exceptional rate, or he had a max stamina level above 10,000.
Then again, he could be sacrificing large amounts of mana so he could find the perfect moment to strike. That was smart; if he caught his dad when he was not using Flash Step the fight would be over in a single attack.
“We going to have a real fight or what?” asked Flint.
“Yeah,” said Grimm then leapt at Flint with a perfectly executed thrust. Flint parried with ease but the moment their swords connected an image of Grimm appeared behind him. The original Grimm disappeared and the new one swept Flint’s back leg. It appeared like Grimm finally scored a hit, but Flint pulled off one of his most annoying moves. He shifted his weight to his front leg and let his back leg go limp. When Grimm’s kick made contact, he used the force to spin him around and kicked him in the ribs.
Lock had been on the receiving end of that kick many times, and it was damn annoying. Right when you thought you had him, he knocked you on your ass. Or Lock was.
Grimm wasn’t tricked as easily. As Flint’s kick connected he threw his image and appeared behind his dad. This time Grimm struck with another thrust. Without looking Flint angled his sword and deflected the attack as he continued to spin.
At that point Lock lost his hold on Flash Step and with it he missed the rest of their exchange. Judging by the clang of steel on steel, the two were evenly matched. Grimm attacked and Flint countered, Grimm escaped and attacked again. Countless times that happen until Grimm disengaged with a smooth backwards summersault.
“Ready to surrender?” asked Flint. Still being an ass.
“I’ll never understand how a clown like you made it this far,” said Grimm.
“Are you watching?” asked Flint, “I’ll show you.”
Lock activated Flash Step as Flint made his move but just barely. His dad moved so fast he only caught glimpses. He closed the gap and attacked Grimm with an overhead slash. Grimm threw his image and escaped, only to be attacked as soon as he reappeared. He threw his image again, and was attacked as soon as he reappeared. The pattern repeated five or six more times before Grimm failed to throw his image in time. Flint caught him in the chest with a front kick and knocked him into the wall of the cage.
Grimm dropped to a knee at the edge of the cage. Flint raised his sword to point at Grimm’s chest, “Did you see it?”
Grimm didn’t even look up but at least ten images sprang up in front of him. Flint moved so fast even Flash Step didn’t help Lock see how he did it but the next thing he knew his dad had Grimm pinned against the wall of the cage. He whacked Grimm’s wrist with the pommel of his sword to disarm him then yanked him off the cage and kicked his legs out from under him.
“Stay down, or I put you down for good,” said Flint as he pointed his sword at Grimm’s chest, “Your choice.”
Chapter 14:
Grimm never moved.
He grumbled and cussed but he never moved. For whatever reason, he accepted defeat but the look in his eyes was not one of a defeated man. It was one of arrogance. It was the look of a man who knew he was going to get his way. Maybe not this moment but at some point, in some way, he was going to get what he wanted.
Whatever Grimm lost the match, and they won their bet. No need for luck. All that was left to do was collect the reward. The hard part was done. So they waited just inside the entrance to the tunnels. In time Bruno would show up to deliver their prize.
It may not be enough money to pay for Lock’s full schooling but it should to get him through the first few months. Perhaps even enough for half a year.
“How long does this usually take?” asked Lock.
“Not long,” said Flint.
“Well it’s getting long,” said Lock.
“More money, takes more time,” said Flint.
“Or more time, means less money,” said Lock.
“Whatever,” said Flint in his best girl voice, “That sword’s worth twenty times what we need. Ben’ll come through.”
Lock stuck the back of his hand to his face and made a farting sound, “More like fifty times and I wouldn’t get your hopes up. Ronnie was trying to come away with some cash tonight and even he knew nobody takes a big bet.”
The moment he heard the pop of his dad’s knuckles he knew he’d said too much. Before Lock turned to see his dad’s reaction his arm was pulled back into an armbar. Then he felt the bite of cold steel as it was pressed t
o his neck.
He was in real trouble. His dad wouldn’t put a sword to his neck, smack him yes, embarrass him, all the time. But truly threaten his life, no. This was serious, and it was not his dad. He had to keep calm and focus on his surroundings.
His dad two meters in front of him. The tunnel dimly lit, empty. The distant sound of men’s footsteps, scattering deeper into the tunnels. And the smell, rich perfumed oil.
“Dad,” breathed Lock but as the words left his mouth Grimm pulled his head back and pressed the tip of his blade into Lock’s neck.
“Eh, Eh, Eh, this is between me and your dad,” then Grimm clamped down on Lock’s mouth and pulled his head to the side drawing a line of blood from his neck, “I don’t know how you did it Sharp, but you cheated me.”
Flint slowly opened his fists and raised his hands, “Easy, that was a fair fight. If it’s about money.”
“Fuck the money,” blurted Grimm, “No man moves that fast. You screwed me and I want to know how. I want to know now or your boy paints the tunnel red.”
“The sword,” said Flint as he shrugged the enchanted sword off his shoulder, “It’s all I’ve got, take it and let my boy go.”
Grimm jerked Lock’s head to the side, “Don’t screw with me. I don’t want a fucking sword, I want answers.”
“Okay, okay,” said Flint in a rush, “Ask what you want, just lower the blade?”
“Ask,” snapped Grimm, “I did ask. What are you on, sin? Some charm or a curse? What is it?”
“What is what?” asked Flint.
“Your trick damnit,” said Grimm, “I was too stupid to know when we first fought, but now I know nobody moves faster than thought. You’ve got a trick, and I want to know what it is.”
Flint snatched the sword off his back and let it fall to the floor, “It’s not a trick,” then he slowly showed his hands again, “But.”
The Whetstone Fist 2 Page 11