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Both use long swords, their skill slightly above the last pair, but both focus on the strength of their attack, not thinking beyond it. It makes it a quick fight, with the bulkier one managing to catch the other unaware.
Instead of giving him a slice across his skin for warning, he chops off his entire hand with a savage smile. The screams from the man bellow out around the arena while deep chuckles follow it.
The man is carted off without so much as a blink of sympathy from the others.
“Seren will fight the winner.”
Again, my name is called to fight. But I already know the game they are playing and assume it will continue on until they deem otherwise.
I choose a short blade this time and move to stand across from my new opponent. I eye him a little more thoughtfully. He didn’t have to maim the other competitor. A healer cannot fix something that has been completely severed, and it will more than likely remove him from the competition completely. He chose to make this personal, and because of it, so will I.
His bulky form towers over me as he gives me a toothy grin full of arrogance. His dark brown eyes size me up like he thinks he can easily break me, but he has forgotten that the bigger you are, the harder you fall.
He lunges forward with his sword, but I bend low to avoid it, spin my blade, and use the hilt to slam into his left knee. A resounding crack follows a grunt of pain as he drops forward. I twist my blade to my other hand and slam it into his back just where one of his kidneys sits. An unlawful howl of agony bellows out as he curls into a ball on the ground, and a pool of blood begins to form around him.
The man will be passing red for a while until the healers figure out how to fix him.
The guards snarl at me as they remove him, while a couple of the competitors dip their heads in respect.
Seren… Seren…Again and again, I am called to fight another winner, but again and again, they quickly fall, the guards growing more and more agitated while the lieutenant looks on with a murderous glare.
“Stay where you are,” the guard growls at me before he heads over to the last of the group and says something to them that makes them frown, but they nod, abiding by whatever order he has given them.
A dozen competitors choose their weapons and step in front of me, all ready to fight.
I throw my last weapon to the ground, and the guard gives me a smug look.
“Giving up already?”
Without a word, I walk over to the wall of weapons, choosing two curved daggers before moving back to my spot.
Twirling them in my hands, I give the guard a wicked smile. “Not even close.”
Around me, the competitors grow pale as the guard clenches his jaw.
“Begin,” he shouts, and they all attack at once.
I slice, thrust, and slash my way through half of the group while lunging, ducking, and swirling around the rest. I work through the rest of the group with ease, my body moving from muscle memory to do what it is trained to do.
As the last competitor falls, I am greeted by complete silence.
Minutes is all it has taken to finish the fight as I pluck my dagger from the thigh of the fallen man beside me. He grunts in pain as I move past him and take up my spot once more, with a raised brow aimed at the lieutenant.
Instead of more fights, a break is called, with the lieutenant meeting his men for a heated discussion.
Oryn makes his way over to me. But before he gets to me, three guards block him, their focus directly on me.
CHAPTER 17
“Come with us.”
Nothing about their smug looks eases my twisting stomach, my instinct telling me something isn’t right.
They quickly bring me back to my cell. Before I get the chance to figure out what they have planned, a boot slams into my back, and shadows slash out and encase me. I guess their little warning about not using shadows will be overlooked this time.
“This is for your little display.”
Their shadows raise me up off the ground before slamming me into the cell wall, and the air is ripped from my lungs just as I’m thrown to the ground.
