Chapter Eleven
Speranzi’s eyes widened when she saw the smooth draw of the sword into Skana’s left hand. That by itself brought out a murmur from the soldiers. ‘Alright then, this might be more interesting than I thought, a left handed blade dancer?’ Speranzi tossed her sword from her left hand to her right and advanced over the ten steps between the pair.
[Flow acceleration][Lesser Speed] Skana didn’t hesitate to activate her martial skills as she approached and she felt the peculiar lightness of her body as the mana within was consumed, her sword came up in the guard of the hawk, the weight of the blade adding to its speed and power and forcing her idol to respond.
Speranzi dove to the right and avoided the blow, one sword in the ranks of the ninety-nine voting soldiers drew his sword and lifted it above his head, casting his vote in favor of the swordswoman who had enough mana for two martial arts at once.
‘Normally that should have brought near instant majority vote… but instead she gets only one.’ Speranzi couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for the woman even while she rolled away, sprang to her feet, and attempted a thrust that would strike at Skana’s exposed side.
Fighting a left handed warrior however, was no easy task, it was like fighting a mirror, each action a direct counter to the other if they could even remotely approximate the speed of their opponent. All other things being equal, the left handed fighter would typically win.
‘But they’re not equal. Not by a bowshot!’ Speranzi thought, only for Skana to leap, not simply lean back, but leap, arching her back and coming down on her feet several paces away, she rushed in, her sword swinging with a precision Speranzi expected to be nothing but boast. ‘A fencer, no, a duelist. Someone in that camp was a duelist at some point…’ The blows were aimed at pinpoint positions, trying to find weaknesses, gaps that could be exploited.
With two martial arts active and her left hand at work, Speranzi appeared to be at a disadvantage, her feet were withdrawing, her body twisting and turning as Skana’s strikes continued to home in on places where armor would be thinner to reduce weight.
[Light Blade][Grip of Iron] Speranzi activated two of her available arts, and her hand came out to catch the blade as it came in close. Her hand held the blade of her opponent, and Skana tried to pull it back… it would not budge.
Skana grunted and hauled, straining her muscles on the hilt as hard as she could. “This is the end.” Speranzi promised. “It is over. Look into my eyes, and know you failed.”
Skana raised her head from her focus on the blade, and to the dismay of the hundred who could not meet the endless pools of blue that promised an end to life without ever meaning to, she met that gaze and said, “No.”
She dropped her hold on the weapon as Speranzi’s sword came down to the spot where the former bandit had just been.
“Nothing’s over. I’m not done! Not till I’ve achieved my dream!” She shouted at her would-be superior, the mana use was already causing her to breath heavily, a few more swords were drawn and lifted up to vote on her admission.
“I’ll fight without a weapon if I have to!” Skana roared, “Peasants learn to fight with their fists first anyway!” She spat into the stone and rushed forward.
Speranzi tossed Skana’s blade aside and received the charge with one foot back and body braced, her sword back and ready to bring in for the kill. “They have no faith in you.” Speranzi said, “They don’t give a shit about your dreams.”
Skana ignored the brutal assessment and ignored the watching hundred, the blade, made lighter by the Mad Archer of Jadara’s martial art, flew faster, and a streak of blood sprang to Skana’s cheek as she jumped against her opponent, twisting her body in the air as she came in close, her fist connected into the face of her commander, and she felt her finger bones crack.
“Gyah!” She shrieked at the sudden pain as if she’d punched solid stone instead of a soft and delicate cheek.
A dozen swords were raised as she rolled away from another blow that would have severed her head from her shoulders, and Skana found her sword again.
“How are you going to hold that sword with a broken hand, Skana?” Speranzi asked and patted her own cheek. “You really shouldn’t have done that, it did sting… a little, a good hit, any peasant brawler, monk, or fighter, at least a novice, would be proud, but now you’ve crippled your sword hand.”
Skana hissed, held the sword up as if she were voting for herself, and released her hold on it, as if she were going to let it drop, only to catch it in her right hand. “I never said I could only use one hand, My Lady.” She smiled, clenching her jaw tight against the pain.
A murmur went up again from the ranks of the watching soldiers. “Six hours every day for years, and I know I haven’t caught up to you. But I’m working! I’m stronger, faster, and I’m not going to give up! I don’t care if they want so little to do with me that they’d rather I die than join them! I won’t give up that easily!” Skana shouted at her stone faced opponent, “This is my Prioche! I’ll win or die!”
“She is determined. Very, very determined.” Speranzi remarked out loud, though so quietly that she was sure nobody heard, there were tears of fury in Skana’s eyes, using her martial arts at the beginning had clearly taken a toll on her, even though they’d only been fighting for minutes, she was sweating, heaving with every breath, while Speranzi herself wasn’t even winded.
Speranzi however, could also see what Skana could not, and as the auburn-haired woman came in screaming her defiance with her sword in her right hand, the end was already near.
Speranzi began to make precise strikes, but Skana’s footwork and flexibility gave her an edge, avoiding each and every strike and trying to offer one in turn, at a glance it would have looked more like a performance than a duel as each one mimicked the other’s motions in turn.
‘She really is a blade dancer. She must have been spectacular to music when she was still living in a relatively peaceful world.’ Speranzi mused until she heard the stomping of a soldier’s foot.
She then snatched the sword thrust of Skana, using her iron grip to hold the blade fast and raised her own sword up so that the edge was at her throat.
“Now it is over.” Speranzi said as a faint trickle of red from Skana’s throat ran out of the split flesh and over the cold steel.
Skana’s vibrant eyes were undulled despite her exhaustion, her breast heaved up and down, and she looked straight into the eyes of the woman she admired, the last fighter on the wall of Prioche. ‘Dying this close to her is, I guess, as good as I was ever going to get.’ Skana told herself, and waited for the cut to deepen.
It did not.
Speranzi stepped back and lowered her blade, “Seventy-seven to twenty-two in favor.” The soldier who lent Skana his sword and armor announced.
“As I said, it is over. You won your place. Congratulations, you get to die in battle.” Speranzi chuckled, grabbed Skana’s broken hand, and raised it up in victory.
And the swords of the hundred mercenaries, even those who had not voted for her, went up in salute. “Ruh-Ruh-Ruh-Ruh!” The wordless chant went up as the swords threatened the bright blue sky with their constant stabs, and Skana could not echo it.
She had no words to say as her body shook and trembled while the buried fear left her in the aftermath of a lethal test. She had only tears.
Only joyful tears.
