by F. P. Spirit
Andrella laughed. “You are far too modest, my Lord Stealle,” she said in a mock formal tone. She laughed once more and threw her arms around his neck, her voice growing soft. “It is one of your most endearing qualities.”
She pulled him down and kissed him again, this time more ardently than before. Lloyd’s head swam once more, the heat rising throughout his entire body. When Andrella finally pulled back, she was out of breath. Her face was flushed as she gazed at him longingly, but then she gently pushed away from him. Her breath was still heavy as she tore her eyes from his. Andrella gazed downward, straightening out her dress. When she looked up again, she half smiled at him, her face still slightly red. “Good luck out there today,” she said, reluctantly turning and heading toward the exit. As she reached the tent flaps, she turned and gazed at him one last time. “You better win!” With that, the Lady Andrella pushed open the tent flaps and skirted through them.
Lloyd stood there alone with a silly grin on his face. Andrella was most certainly a handful. He briefly wondered what he had gotten himself into, but the truth was, he couldn’t imagine his life without her now. Sudden cheers rang out from the direction of the arena. Lloyd spun around and opened the tent flap. The fight was over. He was up next! Closing his eyes, Lloyd called upon his spiritblade training. His breathing slowed and his mind emptied. When his eyes snapped open a minute later, he was ready.
Let the battle begin!
Lloyd entered the arena at the same time as Sir Fafnar. The Dunwynn knight’s demeanor had not changed since the prior evening. He still had that same sour expression on his face. The only major change to the knight was his battle attire. Bright silver links of chainmail were now clearly visible under his pale blue tabard. His short coat still bore the heraldic of his city across the chest, and lieutenant bars on the shoulders. Strapped to his waist was the same sword and axe that the noble had worn the first time they encountered him.
The crowd cheered as the two combatants appeared. Fafnar, however, refrained from looking around, starting across the field toward the box where the Baron waited. Lloyd fell in beside the knight, marching briskly across the arena. He and Fafnar were nearly the same height, the Dunwynn knight perhaps only an inch shorter, but the noble’s lithe form was in stark contrast to Lloyd’s muscular physique.
As they crossed the field, a soft chant of Heroes sprang up amongst the crowd. Lloyd peered into the stands, quickly spying Aksel, Seth, Donnie, Elladan, and Glo. All were seated in the first row. Aksel, his face impassive, nodded to Lloyd. Seth, being Aksel’s polar opposite, stood up and yelled out across the field.
“Lloyd! Give him the old one-three!”
The old one-three? What happened to two?
Glo sat next to Seth and Aksel, his expression nearly as stoic as the little cleric’s. Elladan stood on the other side of the wizard, lute in hand, leading the crowd’s chant. He nodded, his eyes resting on Lloyd. The flamboyant Donnie was also on his feet, waving his hands as if conducting the audience. He briefly turned Lloyd’s way and winked.
The duo was so inspiring that Lloyd broke out into a grin. He scanned up the stands and immediately recognized three of the spectators in the second row behind his companions: Ves, Ruka, and Maya! The Greymantle sisters had all come to cheer him on. Ves gave a short wave while Maya, the youngest, stood on the bench and waved both her arms back and forth at him vigorously. Even Ruka, the reserved young teen, nodded to him, a smirk across her lips. Next to the sisters sat the mysterious gypsy, Elistra. She smiled at him serenely as if she had already divined the outcome of the match. On Elistra’s left stood Shalla. She had her lute out, playing along with Elladan and the crowd. Beside Shalla sat the Dame Alana. The lady knight stood up as he glanced her way, drew her sword and saluted. Lloyd nodded in response.
Cheers and chants came from the other stand as well. Lloyd immediately spied Kailay, the blonde barmaid from the Charging Minotaur, on that side. Next to her sat her sister, Gristla. He also saw the merchant Pheldan and his granddaughter, Xelda. There was even Captain Rochino from the Endurance. All chanted Heroes, waved, or gave him the thumbs up. Lloyd was stunned by the turnout. Everyone they had helped at one time or another was there to cheer them on.
The two combatants finally reached the other end of the arena. They stopped in unison directly in front of the Baron and Baroness. Gryswold stood up and raised both his arms. The crowd went silent. Over to the Baron’s left, Andrella settled into her seat. She glanced at Lloyd and winked. Lloyd smiled briefly in return, but his attention snapped back to Gryswold as he began to recite the rules of combat. It was more or less a formality, as everyone present already knew them. The two combatants would fight until one yielded or was unable to continue. This was not a battle to the death, but accidents were known to happen.
During the Baron’s speech, Fafnar quietly whispered to Lloyd, “Is that the Lady Andrella’s scarf you are wearing?”
Lloyd gave the noble a sidelong glance—he wore an infuriated look. Lloyd, not wanting to be rude, declined to respond.
“The likes of you does not deserve her attention,” the irritant noble continued. “I will put an end to that soon enough,” he added, his voice rising above a whisper.
“What was that, Sir Fafnar?” Gryswold interrupted them.
Lloyd suppressed a smile, keeping his eyes firmly fixed forward. The Baron wore a grim expression as he glared down at the haughty Dunwynn noble. Fafnar, caught in the act, did not immediately respond. When he did, his tone was placating at best. “I was merely wishing my opponent... luck.”
“Hmm, yes, I’m sure you were,” Gryswold said. From his expression, it was obvious he did not believe a word the noble had said. “Anyway, please take your positions. On Captain Gelpas’ mark you may begin the match.”
Lloyd spun around and strode toward the center of the arena, side-by-side once more with Sir Fafnar. The crowd began to cheer again, the noise becoming quite loud. When they reached the center of the arena, the two combatants spread out, taking positions about a half-dozen yards from each other. They both drew their weapons, took fighting stances, and eyed each other intently. Fafnar held a longsword in his right hand and brandished a single-bladed hand axe in his left.
Up until now, Lloyd had not taken the foppish noble seriously—he had thought his weapons merely for show because the sword and axe was a difficult combination to pull off. The axe, being both shorter and lighter than the sword, made it faster to swing, but also gave it less range, and the difference in weight between the two weapons would throw an unseasoned fighter off balance. Now Lloyd noted the well-guarded stance and the comfort with which the Dunwynn knight held his weapons. If he was as well-practiced with them as he appeared, the relative lightness of axe would allow for exceedingly quick attacks. Lloyd shifted his own stance slightly. Fafnar might be more of a challenge than he originally thought.
Captain Gelpas had followed them out to the center of the arena. He now stood directly between the two men. Holding his sword out in front of him, the Captain gazed at each of them in turn. “Good luck,” he cried over the din of the crowd. He then stepped back, lifted his sword and yelled, “Begin!”
The crowd quieted as the two men slowly circled each other. They cautiously closed the distance between them until they were just a blade’s reach away. Each made a few feints, testing the other, but these were easily parried or avoided. Suddenly, before Lloyd could react, Fafnar closed the gap between them. The knight deftly slipped under his guard and landed two blows into his midriff as he passed! Luckily, his armor took the brunt of the attacks, but he still felt them. Lloyd whirled around with his blades, attempting to catch the knight before he was out of range, but somehow Fafnar avoided the first blow and neatly parried the second one with his axe. Gods, he’s fast, and nimble to boot! The man rivaled Donnie.
The crowd had gone silent—it appeared that no one expected the haugh
ty Sir Fafnar to land the first blow. Lloyd was going to have to be a lot more careful. He readjusted his stance again, shortening his grip on his weapons in preparation for closer combat. As he did, Fafnar spun around and immediately launched himself back toward him. Lloyd was not expecting such a reckless maneuver from the prim and proper noble. Before he knew it, the knight was under his guard again and landed two more blows, one of them nearly penetrating his armor! Lloyd swiftly swung around and set himself for a single swipe at the retreating noble. He brought his right hand around and connected with the knight, the tip of his black blade slicing neatly through the man’s armor and biting into his side. The crowd let out a collective cheer.
Fafnar, recoiling from the blow, took a few steps back, putting some distance between himself and Lloyd. His face reddened as he examined his side. He was bleeding through his armor. It was not a deep or debilitating wound, but it must have stung nonetheless. The Dunwynn knight’s eyes fell on him. “How dare you!” His expression hardened and he fixed Lloyd with an icy cold stare. “Now you shall feel my true wrath.”
Lloyd stood ready for the next attack, but instead the Dunwynn noble just stood there. A look of fierce concentration filled the man’s face, and Lloyd could feel the power building around him from where he stood.
Could it be? Was Fafnar some kind of... spiritblade?
In answer to his silent question, Sir Fafnar’s blade and axe frosted over, seemingly turning to ice in front of him! Lloyd was stunned by this new development. He had never heard of a technique that could turn weapons icy. It was as if they had studied the same arts, only substituting ice for fire. There were murmurs from the crowd around them. They appeared as surprised as Lloyd. Fafnar charged forward again. He moved in quite swiftly, but this time Lloyd was prepared. He parried the knight’s sword with his own, but Fafnar ducked under Lloyd’s left arm. He caught him in the side with his icy hand axe. Lloyd felt the cold right through his armor as Fafnar continued by. A few shocked cries went up around them, one in particular from the royal box.
“Lloyd!” That was Andrella.
Fafnar did not immediately turn and attack again this time. Instead, he kept going until he was well out of the range of Lloyd’s blades. Keeping one eye on his opponent, Lloyd took the opportunity to check his side. Sure enough, there was a slit in his armor and a red slice in his skin beneath it. The wound was covered over neatly with a cold patch of ice!
“Blood for blood!” Fafnar sneered at him from a safe distance.
That was enough! Lloyd felt his anger mount. Almost without thought, his blades lit on fire. Murmurs arose from the crowd and a few voices cried out.
“Go for it, Lloyd!” That was Elladan.
“Now that’s more like it!” That was Donnie.
Lloyd smiled grimly at Fafnar. “Two can play at that game.”
“We shall see, knave!”
Lloyd purposely goaded the arrogant noble, knowing he could not resist responding. While the knight fired back his reply, Lloyd took advantage of the moment and executed a quick spiritblade move. Time slowed as he made the appropriate motion and envisioned the results in his mind. Lloyd reached deep within himself, finding that spark of spirit. It felt as if a floodgate had opened, the energy rushing outward, coursing through his body. The entire process took only a second. While Fafnar’s mouth still hung open, Lloyd leapt ten feet into the air and dove down toward the surprised knight. Gasps went up around them as the young warrior plummeted down toward his intended target.
Yet Fafnar did not try to dodge out of the way. Instead, the knight closed his own eyes and stood perfectly still. Just as Lloyd was about to pounce, Fafnar suddenly shot up into the air! Lloyd was taken completely by surprise. He passed through the space where Fafnar had just been. Luckily, his reflexes kicked in—he neatly curled into a ball as he hit the ground, tumbled forward, and came up in a fighting stance. Lloyd quickly spun around, searching for his opponent.
Fafnar now floated high above him, nearly twenty feet in the air. Lloyd watched in amazement as the knight pointed his sword down at him. A ball of ice formed at the tip and an icy projectile launched itself from the blade, careening downwards at a frightening speed. Lloyd reacted immediately, bringing his two flaming blades up and crossing them in front of him. He felt the impact as the ball of ice hit his blades and broke apart. Ice chunks went flying in all directions, causing Lloyd to duck his head.
Screams of fright sounded all around him. When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, he was unharmed, but now he had a new problem. A thick bank of steam rose high in front of him, hiding the Dunwynn knight from his view. Lloyd knew an attack was imminent. Calming his mind, he tried to anticipate the direction of the next assault. He felt it before he saw the dark form appear in the mist.
Lloyd brought up his black blade to block the impending attack, but as it turned out, the blow was not aimed directly at him. Instead, it struck his blade. Without warning, the weapon was jerked from his hand! The blade went flying across the field and fell to the ground a good dozen feet away. Screams and jeers arose from the crowd as Lloyd realized what had happened. Fafnar had used his axe to disarm him, hooking his blade with the L-shaped weapon. The knight had miscalculated, though, having put too much force into the blow to disarm him.
Fafnar currently stood before him, off-balance, the knight’s exposed back facing him. Lloyd swiftly seized the opportunity. He brought his other blade around in a high arc toward Fafnar’s unprotected flank. Having no other choice, the Dunwynn knight quickly spun around, bringing his own sword up to block Lloyd’s. He had no time to set himself, and could not counter the warrior’s greater strength.
The force of Lloyd’s blow drove the knight down on one knee. Thus, he was off-balance when Lloyd unleashed a devastating right fist directly into his opponent’s jaw. The young warrior connected with a resounding crack that could be heard across the arena. Fafnar’s body actually lifted off the ground, flipped into the air, and was sent flying backwards. The Dunwynn knight landed in a heap nearly two yards away.
The crowd roared, coming to its feet. Cries of “Take that, you creep!” and “Way to go, Lloyd!” were mixed in with the shouts, but Lloyd was only focused on one thing. As soon as Fafnar went down, he spun around and sprinted for his black blade. Lloyd closed in on the weapon and had nearly reached it when he heard a scream from behind.
“Aaahhh! How dare you!” the voice roared.
Lloyd did not stop. He launched himself the last few feet and landed atop his black blade, grasping the hilt with his right hand as he rolled into a ball. He continued tumbling forward, coming up onto his feet in a fighting stance, both blades again in hand. Lloyd whirled around to face his opponent.
Fafnar lifted himself off the ground, his face twisted into a mask of rage. He launched himself forward with a cry. “You’ll pay for that, varlet!”
“Enough of this!” Lloyd spat as he also started toward the knight.
The two of them collided in the center of the arena, blade to blade, fire and ice. Steam rose around them as their weapons clashed over and over. Lloyd knew the knight’s tricks now, and would no longer allow him to slip under his guard. Yet he could not land a blow on Fafnar, the wiry knight being too quick. The two of them separated, glaring at each other. Suddenly, the Dunwynn knight’s face went blank once more.
Lloyd silently swore at himself for giving his opponent this opportunity. He quickly launched himself forward, determined to catch Fafnar before he could begin his next assault, but as he swung at the man, the knight’s axe rushed up to block it. The same thing happened with his other blade. No matter where Lloyd tried to strike, a sword or axe was instantaneously there to block his attack. Blade wall.
The name of the technique reverberated through Lloyd’s mind. It was as if Fafnar was surrounded by a wall of impenetrable weapons. There really was no way around it. It could not be
kept up indefinitely, but if he kept on hacking away at it, Lloyd would wear himself out.
An idea dawned on him. Stepping back, Lloyd summoned up his spirit energy again. Advancing forward, he went to strike Fafnar once more. This time, blade and axe clattered against each other with the same astonishing speed. The same thing happened with their other hands. Both men’s weapons were now moving almost faster than the eye could see. It was as if there was a wall of flashing steel between them as they circled around each other. The crowd grew hushed as they watched the incredible display of swordsmanship. Neither warrior nor knight could get through the other’s defense. It was the perfect offense. Lloyd could now keep up with Fafnar without tiring himself out. This went on for nearly a minute until Fafnar finally drew back. He was fuming at how his clever defense had been nullified.
“Block this, then!” Fafnar lifted his blade and pointed it at Lloyd.
Lloyd felt the surge of power but did not react, confident his blade wall could handle whatever was coming. He was taken by surprise though, as a blast of icy wind blew from the tip. It expanded outward into a cone of snow and ice that completely engulfed him. My blades are no good against this! It’s like trying to fend off the very air.
Before he knew it, Lloyd froze over. The flames on his blades went out, and he was covered with a thick layer of ice. The crowd booed and jeered while Fafnar stood there gloating. The knight slowly approached Lloyd, crying out in a voice loud enough for those in the stands to hear.
“So then, knave... do you give up?”
“Don’t do it, Lloyd!” a voice shouted from the crowd. “You can’t let him win!” came another cry.
Fafnar angrily spun around to face the stands. “He has no say in the matter! He has lost!”
Lloyd barely heard him. He still might have a chance. There was a spiritblade technique he hadn’t quite mastered yet—it invoked a state of body that did not require movement like most other skills. It was indeed a long shot, but if he could get it to work, he might still have a fighting chance. Lloyd stilled his mind. Some corner of it noted that Fafnar had turned back to face him. The knight was still gloating.