Darius's Tournament.
Posted: Fri Apr 25, 2008 2:48 am
The energy was pulsing in the air like it was pulsing in the veins of the two great artists of the blade. Hot steel of their swords was at times almost glowing pink from the temperature, but the high quality weapons would not chip. Their bodies and their blades were solid like they were one, if anything would chip, it would be ground under their feet, unable to withhold the tension. Konrad felt like he was being charged with electricity, each blast, like a bolt of lightning, like a hit of a falling house, a ship, a hurricane. His opponent was quick like a fly, strong like an ogre, and his blade stung like a wasp. He could swear that if anything stood between their blades, it would be struck by lightning from the very air between them - so tense, so energetic they were.
Drethek and Konrad were rightfully equal, over twenty rounds of using various weaponry for Darius's entertainment. Their speed, their mastery, their creativity with moves were evenly matched by each other's. Like brothers, twins almost, so different and completely unrelated, but so uncomparably even, an abyss away from everyone else. Flying sparks of their swords fell everywhere around them and the sounds of their clashing weapons were so fast they sounded as one tone.
Drethek's speed made Konrad laugh in frenzied excitement, never has he met an opponent like that, pure pleasure in every move. If Konrad made a mistake, Drethek immediately punished him for it in some half a second. He was in a state of trance. He could no longer rely on sight or sound, he had to know where the blade is, where it will be, where it would be in four, five, ten moves. It was a chess game of two athletes.
It wasn't their first match, they have been friends for a few months, both equal in their neutrality towards island's affairs. Their friendly battles did not last long, they didn't bother with shields, hardly ever dodged. It's not that their aim was insufficient - they just knew each other too well. Opening dents on each other's armor, "wounds" on their metal "bodies", they slashed away, demonstrating to each other new moves, new tricks, new approaches to opening counter attacks.
Again, Drethek delivered a devastating blow towards Konrad's neck, but then once again, it encountered the edge of Karrasean steel. Konrad carried these swords for years, his loyal twin blades, crooked and custom fit for his elbows, he carried them through the siege of Salkamar and through the Albarian conflict. These blade stood solid before the sword of mighty Pu-Kir of Lor Angur, and saw the endless plains of Nubris. Konrad carefully maintained his arsenal. Such swords required special attention, wood for their handles was imported from Laris where a special sort of red naldor grew in abundance, and the steel for them was carefully transported in bars all the way from Karras in the north, where mighty thanes delivered the ore from merinium mines in the Ice Desert. Konrad was lucky that on Gobaith there were enough resources of the right concentration of elements necessary to repair these things.
Another blow brought Konrad Knox back to thoughts about Drethek. Where was he from? What was his life like?
They both were united by one simple concept. Freedom. Nothing mattered. Ambition, politics, stryfe, self esteem, title, money, land. These were not ambitious men, they'd settle for simple pleasures and simple love, but one force took them over at once.
They fought to fight. They did it to simply get better at it. It had no purpose, it was art. It was inside and outside of their very beings, on the tip of their tongues, ready to fly off the tips of their blades. They were ready to give it a name.
They were hooked. Hooked on perfection.
"Alright, Darius, sign me up for this tournament" - said one.
"I'm in as well." - shortly spoke the other.
"Hmm, this should be fun." Darius smiled as his list grew longer.
* * *
In Salkamar, south of Falmarha, and north of Sevenhill Mountains, in the Salkamaerian Hall of Warriors - a book is kept. As written in the Salkamaerian Warrior Code, "A man is a king inside the circle he draws on the ground with his sword. Fight with honor and courage, and be brave to dare and do what you want. Swords of others will show you the limits of your abilities."
Drethek and Konrad were rightfully equal, over twenty rounds of using various weaponry for Darius's entertainment. Their speed, their mastery, their creativity with moves were evenly matched by each other's. Like brothers, twins almost, so different and completely unrelated, but so uncomparably even, an abyss away from everyone else. Flying sparks of their swords fell everywhere around them and the sounds of their clashing weapons were so fast they sounded as one tone.
Drethek's speed made Konrad laugh in frenzied excitement, never has he met an opponent like that, pure pleasure in every move. If Konrad made a mistake, Drethek immediately punished him for it in some half a second. He was in a state of trance. He could no longer rely on sight or sound, he had to know where the blade is, where it will be, where it would be in four, five, ten moves. It was a chess game of two athletes.
It wasn't their first match, they have been friends for a few months, both equal in their neutrality towards island's affairs. Their friendly battles did not last long, they didn't bother with shields, hardly ever dodged. It's not that their aim was insufficient - they just knew each other too well. Opening dents on each other's armor, "wounds" on their metal "bodies", they slashed away, demonstrating to each other new moves, new tricks, new approaches to opening counter attacks.
Again, Drethek delivered a devastating blow towards Konrad's neck, but then once again, it encountered the edge of Karrasean steel. Konrad carried these swords for years, his loyal twin blades, crooked and custom fit for his elbows, he carried them through the siege of Salkamar and through the Albarian conflict. These blade stood solid before the sword of mighty Pu-Kir of Lor Angur, and saw the endless plains of Nubris. Konrad carefully maintained his arsenal. Such swords required special attention, wood for their handles was imported from Laris where a special sort of red naldor grew in abundance, and the steel for them was carefully transported in bars all the way from Karras in the north, where mighty thanes delivered the ore from merinium mines in the Ice Desert. Konrad was lucky that on Gobaith there were enough resources of the right concentration of elements necessary to repair these things.
Another blow brought Konrad Knox back to thoughts about Drethek. Where was he from? What was his life like?
They both were united by one simple concept. Freedom. Nothing mattered. Ambition, politics, stryfe, self esteem, title, money, land. These were not ambitious men, they'd settle for simple pleasures and simple love, but one force took them over at once.
They fought to fight. They did it to simply get better at it. It had no purpose, it was art. It was inside and outside of their very beings, on the tip of their tongues, ready to fly off the tips of their blades. They were ready to give it a name.
They were hooked. Hooked on perfection.
"Alright, Darius, sign me up for this tournament" - said one.
"I'm in as well." - shortly spoke the other.
"Hmm, this should be fun." Darius smiled as his list grew longer.
* * *
In Salkamar, south of Falmarha, and north of Sevenhill Mountains, in the Salkamaerian Hall of Warriors - a book is kept. As written in the Salkamaerian Warrior Code, "A man is a king inside the circle he draws on the ground with his sword. Fight with honor and courage, and be brave to dare and do what you want. Swords of others will show you the limits of your abilities."