Lyric, despite his youth and inexperience dealing with any nobles outside of the Lamar family, knew that scoring too quick of a victory against noble would only embarrass the man and possibly make him an enemy. So as the flag was waved to restart the bout, Lyric took his time. He stalked the noble and sent cautious jabs with his staff towards the noble. Even with his slower and more deliberate pace the king’s distant cousin could barely keep up, his blocks were slow and almost non-existent.
After waiting a reasonable amount of time so that Sir Poinna wouldn’t be humiliated by too fast of a defeat, Lyric went in fast for another complex attack sequence. Sir Poinna could not block fast enough and once again found himself on the ground. Lyric had scored his second knockdown and defeated the noble.
When the judges announced Lyric victorious, Lyric made sure to give his opponent a long full bow, a show of respect towards an opponent that Blair and Sir Robert had instructed him well on.
“Well done, Lyric,” said Blair as he came up beside the victorious fighter. “But I hope you are ready for your next match. The crossover has begun and as soon as the fight in the other secondary arena is over you shall fight the victor. “No rest for the wicked.”
Lyric smiled through his helmet. “Perfect”. The tight scheduling of the matches had been Sibylle’s plan. Now that Lyric had easily won his first match, he was glad for the lady’s plotting and scheming. His opponent, with any luck, would be tired.
“I have to say, Lyric, this tournament has brought out the best in you,” said Blair.
“What do you mean?” asked Lyric.
“That match against Sir Poinna, I’ve never seen you move so fast. You were like a blur.”
Lyric had not thought he’d being moving particularly fast; he’d thought Sir Poinna was moving slow. He said so to Blair. “I believe Sir Poinna was in his ales last night.”
“Sir Poinna is always in his ales, but he always fights well, drunk or sober. You defeated him with ease. Your speed was simply too much for him.”
Interesting, thought Lyric, perhaps this new found speed was one of his dragon powers? Lyric would have to test that theory in his next fight. “Watch carefully in the next fight, Blair. I’m going to be even faster.”
“That I’d have to see. Just don’t trade technique for speed. Try and do too much and you’ll make mistakes,” cautioned Blair.
“Understood,” said Lyric as he waited in the arena for his next opponent. It felt strange to not leave the arena and have to wait and watch others. But this was going to be to his advantage. He’d hardly broken a sweat against Sir Poinna and felt great.
A cheer from the other arena indicated a victory. Soon a warrior made his way to the arena to stand across from Lyric. The man was breathing heavy, but was no part-time warrior like many of the nobles. This man was a soldier, Lyric guessed. “Who is he? He looks like a soldier!”
“I didn’t look for his name, but you’re correct about him being a soldier. See the emblem on his shield? That is king’s guard. This man is either part of the king’s elite or once was. It would be strange for an active king’s guard to be involved in a tournament, but this is no average event so he could well be. He’ll likely have a conservative fighting style. The king’s guard train often, but they are very rigid in the way they do things. Mostly they train for formation attacks. You’ve sparred enough with Sir Robert to know what to expect.”
Lyric nodded, the information was very helpful. Sir Robert didn’t train with just one fighting style but several. What he did do was explain each one thoroughly and how to combat the different styles. Lyric was very familiar with the style used by the king’s guard. Knowing this would give Lyric the opportunity to test his theory about his possible new found speed. “Thank you, Blair, that is most helpful.”
As Blair left and the squire announced the competitors to the crowd, Lyric studied his opponent. The man was big, not as tall as the gangly Sir Poinna, but nearly so and with much greater muscle definition. Without doubt this man was much stronger than Lyric and would try to use that to his advantage. Once again, speed and positioning were going to be keys to victory. As the flag was waved, Lyric waited a moment at the line. “Have you had a chance to regain your breath?” Lyric asked his opponent.
“I’m good, I walked over nice and slow,” replied the man.
Lyric could sense that the man was telling the truth, because his heightened senses allowed him to notice the man’s heart rate had returned to normal. Sibylle’s plan to have a tired opponent had not worked. The man was simply in too good of shape. Perhaps the man who’d lost would have been a different story but that mattered not. Besides, this would be a much better test than Sir Poinna. And outside of his contest with the unique fighting style of Sir Chestmire, Lyric had yet to face stiff competition. If he were to win this tournament, he’d need to fight some quality fighters. Not that Lyric wasn’t grateful that Sibylle had stacked the main arena with high end fighters, fighters he wouldn’t have to face
Satisfied that his opponent was ready, Lyric moved forward. The man matched his move. The soldier was using a classic shield and sword combination and Lyric would need to be careful to make sure not to get too close. While mostly a defensive weapon, a shield was an excellent tool in close combat. A shield bash could knock down a man who got too close, and in a tournament that favored knockdowns, that could be a critical error. Lyric took a few cautious stabs with his staff to test the soldier’s defenses. Much as Blair predicted, the soldier responded the way Sir Robert had taught him soldiers would.
Feeling a little more confident that he knew how the soldier would react to his attacks, Lyric launched into a spinning attack. With each spin of his body, Lyric’s staff would swing around with great speed and depending on how Lyric twisted his body would be a rapid jab or a slash to the feet or head. As Lyric focused completing his high risk attack as fast as he could, his opponent backpedaled. Lyric scored two hits, one to the upper thigh and a glancing blow to the man’s helmet before the soldier could find his bearing.
Lyric looked at the judge’s flags. Only one point had been scored. The judges had missed his blow to the leg. Maybe too fast, thought Lyric as he prepared to attack again. Instead of scoring many points with his speed, Lyric would focus on using his advantage to attempt knockdowns. Even the slowest thinking judges knew what a man on his backside looked like. Again Lyric used a spinning attack on the soldier. This time when he found an opening to strike the man’s head, Lyric used an exaggerated feint. The soldier saw the mistake he’d made and was desperately raising his shield to prevent the possible blow. Instead, Lyric crouched under the uplifted shield and used his staff to strike the back of the man’s legs, sending him crashing to the ground. With the knockdown, Lyric now led the bout six points to zero.
This time when the flag was waved, the soldier decided to try counter Lyric’s speed with aggression. The soldier pressed the attack, moving forward with short swings of his sword as he tried to get close to Lyric.
Lyric easily blocked the attacks and moved away from the man’s dangerous shield. The large man seemed to be moving in molasses. Lyric knew then that this must be a result of dragon magic. Lyric was not normally a fast fighter. In their sparring sessions, Sibylle had always been the faster of the two, but today he swore she would have been no match for him. Lyric tested this further with a complicated maneuver. He blocked one of the soldier’s sword swings while stepping closer to the man. At the same time, Lyric spun his shoulder so that his upper arm, just above his elbow caught the edge of the soldiers shield and turned it. This left Lyric standing chest to chest with the soldier, but with Lyric holding his staff across his own chest. By thrusting both hands out, Lyric smashed his staff across the chest of the soldier, sending him sprawling to the ground.
The crowd cheered in awe as Lyric was declared victor.
Blair stood beside Lyric as Lyric bowed to his opponent and to the judges. One the small victory ceremony was complete, Blair pulled L
yric from the arena towards an empty part of the Lamar orchards.
Away from everyone else, Blair turned to Lyric, “What in the seven hells was that? I’ve never seen a man move so fast before!”
Lyric lifted his helmet off and looked into Blair’s eyes. He wondered if Blair would notice his eyes. It didn’t take long for his question to be answered.
Blair immediately noticed Lyric’s eyes. “Dragonsblood! you’ve started to change!”
“Yes,” said Lyric. “I seem to have heightened senses and increased speed. I don’t feel like I’m moving faster, it feels like everyone else is just moving slower.”
“Trust me lad, it’s you who’s moving fast. That poor soldier didn’t know what hit him. I barely saw that strike to the leg that two of the judges missed.”
“So is this a good thing or a bad thing?” asked Lyric.
“Well it’s certainly good for your chances of winning the tournament. I don’t know about anything else. We’ll have to talk to Valeria and Azina about what it really means. I never truly believed them when they spoke of dragonblood and the return of dragons, but here you are. So the dragons must be back. This is probably not a good thing!”
Azina and Valeria had been preparing him for months for the day that dragons would return. But even with Azina’s wise, although dry and ever sarcastic, council, Lyric was finding the experience strange. He’d not even noticed the change himself. He’d gone to bed thinking of Celine and woke up feeling good, but certainly not special. Lyric wondered how people would perceive him once they found out he was dragonblood. After years of being a target of hatred or simply not existing to most folks, Lyric had grown fond of his new life in Winport. Would it change? Would dragons kill everyone, would the Sacred Blood Brotherhood once again start a war? So many questions that Lyric couldn’t answer. For a boy who’d grown up only worrying about finding his next meal and not getting beaten up, this was a strange and complicated world. But whatever his fate was, it’d brought him here, given him Celine and allowed him to make friends like Blair. So Lyric steadied himself. He was now truly dragonblood and would do his best to honor his special heritage. How he’d do that was a different story. For now, trying to winning the tournament or defeat as many warriors as possible so Sibylle could win, was good enough. He’d worry about new problems as they arose.
“Put your helmet back on, Lyric. I’m sure if dragons are now here, word will come soon enough, but let’s not bring your being dragonblood to attention any sooner than necessary,” said Blair.
Lyric nodded, that was what Celine had thought too. He put the helmet back on.
“Even with the helmet, I can see the light in your eyes,” declared Blair. “It’s a good thing everyone already thinks you look like a strange duck. Most will think you always looked like this.”
“When is my next bout?” asked Lyric.
“I’m not sure. We should go check the official lists. After your two morning wins, you will only have one or two more fights today. Tomorrow is when the real competition starts. However, with your new dragon speed, you shouldn’t lose. Unless you’re not the only dragonblood here. Though I doubt that, too many of the old bloodlines were hunted down and killed.”
“Comforting thought,” said Lyric.
“That was generations ago,” said Blair. “However, there are still plenty of organizations that have passed down their old knowledge and biases. You’ll still be seen as an enemy to some.”
Lyric knew all about those problems. Azina had told him much of the history of dragonblood. They were not pleasant stories and something he’d rather not dwell on. “Let’s go look at those charts.”
The charts were a complex map of the tournament. On one wall, he could see the results of each fight and could see who each fighter had faced. Those who lost two fights were marked in red. Those with one loss, in blue. Seeing his own name in blue reminded Lyric he had already suffered his first loss. The chart marking Lyric’s fights had an open space where his next opponent was to be named. However, it was simple to follow the charts and see which possible fighters he might face. Two names appeared, Sir Brant and Chael Cruz.
“Do you know either fighter?” asked Blair.
“No,” said Blair, but I know who will. Let’s go chat with Lord Walden.
…
“Blair, Lyric! You beautiful men, come over here,” yelled Lord Walden as they approached him. This time he was watching one of the main arena fights.
“Lord Walden, you seem particularly jovial this morning,” said Blair.
“You would be too if you won as much money as I have betting on young Lyric here. Although I should be angry with you, lad. You won that last fight with too much ease. I won’t be getting the enormous odds against you anymore.”
“Lord Walden, I’m to fight the winner between Sir Brant and Chael Cruz. What do you know of these fighters?” asked Lyric.
“Yes, you’re starting to get into the interesting part of the tournament. Both men are good fighters. Sir Brant uses two swords and is fast. Chael Cruz is huge, he fights like a barbarian and uses a long sword but he likes to kick, especially front kicks. But after the way you won against Sir Poinna and Captain Rodrick, I’d not be too worried. The heavy competition won’t come until tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Lord Walden. Oh, might I inquire as to how that fighter we watched yesterday, the one with the red armor with black roses, has done today?”
“The mysterious Galleno keeps winning. I wouldn’t be surprised if you both ended up in the final. Wouldn’t that cause an uproar among the stuck up nobles who believe a sword is superior. Two staff fighters in the final of the biggest tournament of the year, they’d cry for months,” said Lord Walden with a great laugh.
“Well, thank you again for the information, Lord Walden, we’ll leave you now.”
“You should stay. Two of the tournament favorites are about to fight. Neither has lost a match and both will be difficult to beat tomorrow.”
“Who’s fighting?” asked Blair.
“Talon Horne and Vladimir Brush,” said Lord Walden.
“Two of the tournament favorites,” said Blair. “Perhaps we should stay. But I’d not stay in the stands. Lyric and I’ll watch from the shade of the trees in the background.”
“Suit yourself,” said Lord Walden. “Be seeing you gentleman later.”
Walking up the hill towards the trees, the view of the arena was poor, but it was isolated. Anyone wanting to watch the fight was in the stands. This let Lyric and Blair watch the fight without anyone commenting on him being in full armor still.
“You seemed rather interested in how Galleno was doing,” commented Blair as they watched the fight from the trees.
“Ummm, well… there are only so many staff fighters in the tournament. Seems only fair to cheer for another staff user.”
“Especially one you’ve been training with for months?” asked Blair. “It’s okay, Lyric, both Sir Robert and I know about Sibylle. You can’t train a person for months and not recognize them just because they put on a fancy coat of troll skin armor and a full visor helmet. Sir Robert recognized her first, but as soon as he pointed her out, I knew he was right.”
Lyric let out a sigh of relief. He was terrible at lying and was glad that he wasn’t the cause of Sibylle being found out.
“Yet she’s still in the tournament.”
“Who am I to judge her? Sir Robert has been looking out for her since her birth. He also is the one who trained her well enough for her to compete. He wants Sibylle to be happy in life. If her winning the tournament can help that, he will say nothing. As long as her life isn’t in danger, he has chosen to say nothing.”
“But what about the king and Lord Lamar?”
“Those are Sibylle’s problems. She will have to deal with the consequences of her choices when the time comes. Who knows, maybe she will win the tournament and the king will be forced to let her choose a husband on her own time frame.”
“Tha
t would be ideal,” said Lyric. “I’m just glad you and Sir Robert are letting her compete. It means so much to her.”
“My concerns are with dragons, not kings who toy with people’s lives. I fear great change is coming to Droll along with the dragons. Whether that is good or bad remains to be seen.”
“You think dragons returning could be a good thing?” asked Lyric.
“I think dragons have as much right to be here as we do. If a dragon attacks me or my people, I’ll take a different attitude. Until then, I will wait and see what transpires. The ancient scrolls, those held by Azina and her coven of witches, do not speak ill of all dragons. It was men who forced the dragons to flee. I only hope revenge isn’t on the dragon agenda.”
“I just hope they don’t hate dragonblood men,” said Lyric. It would be really awful to be dragon food.”
“Lyric, you are much too skinny to be a suitable meal for a dragon.”
Lyric smiled. “I’m okay with that.”
As they spoke of Sibylle’s secret and the return of dragons they also kept an eye on the arena. The fight between Talon Horne and Vladimir Brush had been a close one. In the end, a vicious chop to the knee of Vladimir Brush ended the fight. Talon Horne had another victory.
“That is the third man he’s injured this tournament,” said Blair. “If you fight him, you’d best be wary. He takes pleasure in ending fighters careers.”
“I hope to never face him,” said Lyric in earnest. “Besides being mean, he’s a ferocious fighter. Both of them were very good.”
…
Lyric’s last fight of the day went much like the first ones. With his new dragonblood magic, Lyric was simply too fast. His opponent had no chance.
When Azina and Valeria arrived that afternoon, it was decided Lyric would meet with Sir Robert. They would gauge Sir Robert’s opinions before going to Lord Lamar or the King about Lyric being dragonblood.
After the day’s fights were done, a feast was held with musicians playing while the combatants and all the guests ate. The nightly feast reminded Lyric of Festiva.
Lyric's Curse (Dragonblood Sagas Book 1) Page 28
