The man moved forward again, this time he was the one to press. Both of his short swords were dancing through the air at breathtaking speed. The man spun his body, twisted and danced in strange patterns.
Lyric blocked and moved, he ignored the man’s dancing and focused only on the man’s weapons and equally dangerous feet. Each time he blocked an attack, Lyric moved back or sideways, circling to keep his distance.
The small but boisterous secondary arena crowd roared their approval at the artistic display of combat. Many of the early secondary fights had been one sided or sloppy affairs as the lower quality fighters squared off and were defeated quickly by superior opponents. This was one of the most exciting fights they had witnessed so far.
As the man danced and spun, Lyric started to notice a pattern. Twice now, the man had followed up a low double swing of his swords with a back heal kick. The fighter was using the momentum from his attack to generate speed for his dangerous kick. Lyric waited until the man used another double low attack. This time instead of stepping back, Lyric feinted a back-step and instead spun around with a low attack of his own. When the man spun into his attempted back heal kick all of his weight was on his back foot. Lyric’s staff caught the man behind the knee and sent the man flying. He landed roughly on his back. Lyric had scored a knockdown!
Lyric moved to the start position and waited for his opponent to rise.
The man gingerly got up and walked to his start position. As he waited for the squire to wave his flag, he gave Lyric a nod of respect.
Lyric returned the gesture.
The flag waved and the fight was back on. Both Lyric and his opponent took aggressive maneuvers. Jabs and swings were blocked and countered, occasionally the man would dive or somersault over an attack, but Lyric wisely sidestepped each time. Not letting the dancing distract him or let his opponent get too close.
The two fighters got into an intense stretch of quick attacks. The crowd roared as the warrior’s swords moved with blazing speed and Lyric’s staff swiftly struck back. Lyric matched the man blow for blow, until Lyric made a crucial mistake. He forgot where he was in the arena. The exposed root tripped Lyric and sent him stumbling forward off-balance. The warrior exploited the moment by hammering his shoulder into Lyric’s chest. Lyric fell to the ground. He had lost the match!
As the crowd cheered the dancing warrior, Lyric got up and after giving the warrior a nod of respect, started to walk out of the arena. He’d been soundly beaten and if he lost another match would be out of the tournament.
Blair slapped Lyric on the back and spoke in a cheery voice. “That was a hell of a display you two put on. Best match I’ve seen in years. I didn’t know there were any Mandula fighters on the Isle.”
“Why are you so cheerful? I lost!” said Lyric. He didn’t mind losing to such a fine warrior, but did Blair have to be some damned happy about it?
“Yes, you did lose. However, that was your first serious match against a seasoned warrior. One who trains in a way you have never encountered before. That first knockdown you suffered was terrible and happened because you simply were caught up in all his dancing and flying around. After that you, performed marvelously. It’s unfortunate you forgot about that root, but that is experience. You’ll likely not make that mistake again.”
Lyric nodded, what Blair said made sense. Other than the first knockdown, it had been a very close fight. One Lyric might have won had he not suffered the easy first knockdown from being caught unaware of his opponent’s strange style.
Blair could see Lyric was not yet totally convinced that his loss had been a good thing. “Think of it this way, Lyric. That fighter was a high quality opponent, perhaps one of the best that this tournament has to offer. You had the ability to win that fight. You scored a solid blow to the chest, a glancing blow to the head and a knockdown. You scored seven points against a fighter who trains in a style you’d never seen before. I‘d say you should be grateful you faced him today. You still get to keep fighting. If you’d faced him later in the tournament, you’d be done right now. You learned a valuable lesson and still have the chance to win.”
“But if I lose again, I’m done. Learning lessons won’t help anything if I lose again.”
“There’s a simple solution to that problem,” said Blair.
“What’s that?” asked Lyric eagerly.
“Quit losing,” said Blair with a laugh.
Lyric shook his head in frustration, “That’s your suggestion? Quit losing?”
Blair smiled. “Come on, your next fight is a couple of hours away and I’m told there is another talented staff user fighting in the other secondary arena. He’s about to face one of the noble favorites, Sir Hawkins.”
…
“Blair, you old goat! Are you entered in the tournament?” yelled out a voice as Lyric and Blair approach the stands surrounding the fighting arena.
“Lord Walden, It’s a pleasure to see you. Heavens no! I’m too old and slow for this sort of thing these days.”
Lyric looked at the Lord Walden, a slightly chubby man with long grey hair and a wide smile. The man had a humorous sparkle in his eyes that Lyric liked.
Lord Walden waved Blair and Lyric forward. “Come join me for the next fight. I was just making a wager. I’ve an excellent box seat and no one with knowledge of fighting to argue with.”
Blair and Lyric followed Lord Walden towards his private booth until a soldier stopped their progress.
“Sorry gentlemen, this area is reserved for Lord Lamar’s guests.”
Lord Walden turned to the soldier. “Am I not one of Lord Lamar’s guests? I’m pretty sure I am. And I’ve just invited these fine men to join me. Are you saying my guests are not welcome by Lord Lamar? Are you insulting me in your Lord’s name?”
The soldier stammered, “My apologies, Lord Walden. I hadn’t realized they were with you.” The soldier stepped aside and let Blair and Lyric by.
As they sat down in Lord Walden’s booth, the Lord sighed. “Not that man’s fault, half the nobles here would cry in anguish if commoners dared approach their booths. Such nonsense.”
“Lord Walden, is a man of the people,” explained Blair to Lyric. “He loves to drink and bet with the commoners.”
“Don’t you be forgetting the ladies,” said Lord Walden with a laugh.
“Ah, my apologies. Lord Walden is equally fond of flirting with common woman as he is fighting with the men.”
“It’s true lad. Although I dislike the term commoners. I assure you the woman I flirt with are exceptional beauties, regardless of their stature as lowborn.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Walden. I’m Lyric.”
“Lyric? So you’re the lowborn bastard everyone is talking about. How’re you doing thus far in the tournament?” asked Lord Walden. “I’ve not watched any of the fights in the other secondary arena yet.”
“I won my first two bouts, but I just lost my last match,” admitted Lyric.
“Yes, but what a match!” said Blair. “Young Lyric fought a Mandula fighter. It was a glorious display.”
“Mandula, was his armor grey with a yellow bird?” asked Lord Walden.
“Yes, that is the man,” said Blair.
“That was Sir Allan Chestmire. His father spent years in the country of Mandilla and hired several warriors to return with him. Sir Chestmire has won several foreign tournaments but only recently returned to Droll. Not many know of him, but he’s a very skilled fighter.”
“He is indeed,” said Blair, “but Lyric here held his own. If they were to fight again, the outcome might be very different.”
“That is high praise, lad. You’re fortunate to have faced Sir Chestmire today. There will be many fighters who won’t get a second chance. I might have to make my way over to your arena and place some bets on you. The book keepers are giving excellent odds against you. It seems the other nobles don’t like your chances. Nor did I, but if you gave Sir Chestmire a good fight, then you’ll
likely win a few more fights before this tournament is over.”
Blair gave Lyric an I told you so luck.
Lyric smiled, “Thank you, Lord Walden. I’ve had excellent teachers.”
Lord Walden turned to Blair, “You’ve been training the lad?”
“Yes,” said Blair. “Sir Robert and I have both taken his on his tutelage.”
“Sir Robert Godefrey? And yourself? My lords, the boy certainly does keep good company. I’ll certainly be making my way to the other arena. However, this match is a must watch. This new competitor is rather skilled, and Sir Hawkins is one of the betting men’s favorites to win.”
“And what wager did you place?” asked Blair.
Lord Walden gave Blair a sly grin. “I bet forty gold pieces on the mystery fighter. His first two fighters were flawless, and the odds against him are high enough that I couldn’t resist.”
“Interesting,” said Blair. “A heavy bet for an unknown fighter.”
Lord Walden sighed, “The betting crowd all know the favorites and getting a fair wager when they are involved is near impossible. But an unknown fighter, in the early rounds… that is a betting man’s dream. I’d be daft to not take the risk. Here they come now. Let’s see if I’ll leave Redfall a rich man or piker.”
Blair leaned over towards Lyric, “Don’t let Lord Walden fool you. Forty gold pieces is a large wager but certainly not one to break him. The man seldom makes a foolish move. If he’s betting against Sir Hawkins, he is not just playing the odds.”
Lyric only knew a little about betting and despite the conversation being intriguing at first, he’d lost all interest. The two fighters had entered the arena, and there was something about the mystery fighter. The deep red armor with two black roses for a crest, despite being different color and symbol, was almost identical to his own. Surely, it too was troll skin. Lyric wondered what the odds were of such armor being worn by three competitors. The most likely answer was that this mystery fighter was Sibylle’s secret champion. The other fighter she was hoping would win the tournament.
As the bout began, Lyric watched in amazement. Sir Hawkins, the much the much bigger fighter, used a traditional shield with a spiked war axe. He moved with grace and speed, but the mysterious fighter, matched him move for move. Every time Sir Hawkins brought his mighty war axe down in an overhead attack, Lyric waited for the red armored warriors staff to break. Yet each time, the weapon was deflected off to the side.
Blair must have thought the same thing as he commented, “That warrior must have a witchwood staff like your own Lyric. No ordinary staff would take such a beating.”
Lyric had forgotten to look at the staff. This had to be Sibylle’s secret champion! “He’s certainly holding his own against Sir Hawkins.” The red armored warrior had just managed to score a knockdown and was now leading the match on points.
“Yes!” shouted Lord Walden as he joyfully watched Sir Hawkins get knocked down.”
Lyric focused on Sibylle’s secret champion. There was something about the way the man fought that was bugging Lyric. There was something very familiar about this fighter.
Lyric’s thoughts were interrupted by another loud cheer from Lord Walden. The warrior in the red armor had scored a second knockdown of Sir Hawkins and the fight was over. Lord Walden had won his heavy wager.
“By the gods!” said Lord Walden. “I knew it!”
Lyric watched the mysterious warrior have his hand raised in victory. Lyric noted that the warrior didn’t take off his helmet. When the warrior started to leave the arena, Lyric rose from his seat. “Blair, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a short walk to keep my legs fresh. I’ll meet you back over at our arena.”
“Don’t wander too far,” said Blair before turning his attention back to the arena.
Lyric slipped away. He wasn’t going for a walk to keep his legs fresh. Instead he was going to follow the mysterious fighter.
…
As Lyric left, Lord Walden turned to Blair. “Now that your man is gone, be truthful. Is he worthy of a wager or two?”
Blair had a good relationship with Lord Walden and the two had exchanged notes on fighters in the past. “In the rest of the early rounds he’d be a solid bet. It was unlucky to draw a high quality fighter like Sir Chestmire without getting a chance to see his unique style first. However, the lad is not a safe bet beyond that. His technique is solid, but he doesn’t have a fighter’s instincts yet. Nor does he have the physical strength to defeat the larger skilled fighters like Sir Hawkins. He hasn’t mastered the techniques that would compensate for his lack of size yet. Another year or two and it would be a different tale, but you can only do so much in a short amount of time. He’s still growing into his own body and he doesn’t have experience or the confidence that experience brings. He may well make it far into the tournament. He has outstanding stamina, and has more than enough skill for the lesser nobles and village strong men. You could make a solid wager or two on him for a few fights at the very least.”
Lord Walden rubbed his hands together in glee. “Excellent. It’s rare to have such knowledge about an unknown fighter like your man Lyric. With his loss to Sir Chestmire, he’ll be getting high odds against him in future matches. I’ll make a fortune on the lad. Between him and this black rose fighter, I’ll be a rich man!”
“You already are a rich man, Lord Walden,” Blair reminded him.
Lord Walden laughed, “Never rich enough. My thanks, Blair. I’ll catch up with you later, I’ve some winnings to go collect before heading over to your arena to place a bet on young Lyric.”
“Best of luck to you,” said Blair.
…
Lyric followed the mysterious warrior back to the fighter’s area. A large collection of tents where the fighters slept and kept their armor and weapons. Lyric watched the warrior slip into a tent at the edge of the camp.
Lyric snuck into the tent behind the warrior. The warrior was just taking his helmet off as Lyric’s head entered the tent. “I knew it!” exclaimed Lyric as he confronted the warrior.
The warrior spun around, “Lyric! What are you doing in my tent?”
“Sibylle, what are you doing pretending to be a man?” asked Lyric.
“I’m not pretending to being a stinking man! I’m fighting to win the tournament, just like you. It’s not my fault if people assume I’m a man.”
“They will find out!” said Lyric. Could she do it? She was certainly a better fighter than he was. Maybe she could pull it off. But how could she make it all the way to the final without being found out?
“Not if you don’t tell,” said Sibylle. “As long as I win and don’t spend any more time in the arena than necessary, I will be fine.”
Lyric wasn’t so sure. “How are you going to trick your father, or Sir Robert?”
“I’ve scheduled my fights so that I’m always available to watch the main arena fights with father. He only attends one or two of the main fights before he loses interest. He has too many business associates to do business with, and won’t be concentrating on the fights until the final rounds. Sir Robert is trickier. I’ve been telling him that I hate watching the fights and will be in my room. I sneak down here and get dressed. As long as he doesn’t watch many of the small arena fights, he won’t notice.”
“What are you going to do if you make it past the first two days. All the fights will be in the main arena then.”
“By then, I’ll have them convinced of how much I hate watching the fights. I’ll stay in my fighting gear and give the house guards strict instructions that I’m not to be disturbed. It’ll work, Lyric, I’ve got it all planned out.”
“You think you can win?” asked Lyric. Sibylle was certainly a better fighter than him, but how she would do against some of the bigger fighters was questionable.
“It’s possible. I’ve set it up in my favor. You’ll have the easiest fights. Most of the fighters I placed in your division are not as good as their reputations. I have
a slightly harder task, but I picked the fighters that would give me the most difficulty for the main arena. They will defeat each other before either of us has to fight them.”
“You rigged the tournament?” asked Lyric. At first thought he almost was displeased to hear that she’d worked to rig the tournament, but quickly he realized the logic behind it. The more she manipulated the order of the fights, the more control she had over her own destiny.
“As much as possible,” admitted Sibylle. “I didn’t want anything to do with this stupid tournament or a royal wedding, but since the king insisted on it, I’ve done as much as possible to eliminate the truly horrid men. The luck of the draw will play a factor, I can’t control who wins their matches, but I’ve done most of the scheduling. You and I should both make it to the last day. After that, there is only so much I can do.”
“That’s brilliant. I’m glad you came up with this crazy scheme.” Lyric paused for a moment. He frowned and scratched his head. “If you’ve been scheduling the fights, how come I got Sir Chestmire. We’ve never practiced like that. He whumped me!”
“Sir Chestmire is a sneaky bastard!” swore Sibylle. He’s been abroad for years and hasn’t fought in any tournaments in Droll. I had no idea he’d be such a tough competitor. There hasn’t been anyone fighting in the Mandula style in years. That was an oversight on my part.”
“Any other oversights I should know of?” asked Lyric.
Sibylle shook her head. “Some of the sellswords are better than I anticipated, but I was careful to place most in early bouts against nobles. That way someone undesirable would lose during each match.”
“What will happen if you’re caught?” asked Lyric. “Surely the king will be angry if he finds out you are trying to win your own hand in marriage.”
“He’ll probably disqualify me if he finds out. That’s why I have to win the tournament before he finds out. The tournament rules do not forbid women from entering. That is why I based the rules on the winter solstice tournament. It’s the only truly open tournament in Droll.”
Lyric's Curse (Dragonblood Sagas Book 1) Page 26
