Chapter 5

The Fight

By approaching the gates, he suddenly remembered that he had not asked Silver Knife about something very important. About, why he was able to do the same things with the baker Kevon as the inhabitants of the Black Monastery. After all, for a short time, he was able to do the same thing as the disciples. Maybe he was used to it due to repeated exposure during his unusual work. This question so agitated Jerry that he even wanted to return to oak to ask Silver Knife, but the gates were already too close and he changed his mind.

As always, he didn't have to knock. He was expected behind the gates, and as soon as he approached them, the door in the gates opened.

In the doorway stood Alvaro. For the first time since the incident with the chain and fight over payment. Jerry didn't like this. In fact, he was horrified.

"Come in, Irzenec," Alvaro commanded with undisguised lust in his voice.

Jerry, who was yet to step over the threshold, froze as if he had run into an invisible barrier. Drops of sweat instantly appeared and began to run down from his spine to his tailbone.

He looked up at Alvaro and said, almost without a trembling in his voice, "Call Luka. Here. Now."

His own words were sticky; like the taste of May honey, reluctantly flowing into his throat. But Alvaro didn't fulfill his request. Instead, he exploded in uncontrolled rage:

"You! Damned, Irzenets, Hedgeborn!" Alvaro's voice slightly croaked from overflowing hatred. "I'll teach you to call Luke..."

Jerry jumped back; instantly and reflexively erecting an imaginary protective wall around himself, guarding himself against a deadly mental blow. To Jerry's surprise and even more so to Alvaro's, this protection took on a quite real visual form. The air around Jerry condensed into a bluish, slightly glowing mass. But Alvaro acted completely differently than Jerry expected. He might have been able to break through even such protection, but he did not try. He took two quick steps and passed through the barrier and attacked him. Physically! Consumed with rage he wanted to beat him with his own hands and strength. Alvaro was two or three years older than Jerry, who was all the more not expecting such a development of the situation. But he hesitated only for a few seconds. Jerry was a street orphan and, despite the fire of blows, such a turn of events greatly encouraged him. Turning over under Alvaro's body, like a slimy worm, he freed his hands and grabbed the hairs of his opponent around the ears, hit with the crown of his head, pulling him to himself to increase the strength of the blow.

Alvaro's movements slowed, and the hail of blows weakened. But this was not the last trick of an experienced street punk like Jerry. Thrusting his grip on Alvaro's stomach, he grabbed the fat folds and cruelly twisted them, pulling him towards himself. Alvaro screamed wildly with pain and arched back. Jerry, not missing his chance, pulled his legs to his knees and with a kick of both feet pushed the opponent off. After that, he jumped to his feet and kicked the trying to rise Alvaro with his boot. The opponent rolled away head over heels. "That's for Hedgeborn! he muttered, wiping the blood flowing from the cuts on his forehead. The fear that had been tormenting him since yesterday disappeared completely. He forgot everything. There was nothing left to lose. But caught up in the fight, Jerry forgot about mental defense and about who the senior student of the Black Monastery was. That was a mistake. And quite a fatal one! He realized that mistake too late, only when his body was already torn from the ground and started floating in midair.

Alvaro was unable to lift Jerry high, but five feet was already enough. He flipped Jerry, helplessly waving his hands and legs in the air, upside down and started to accelerate the dropping, trying to hit his head on the ground as hard as possible. Jerry managed to soften the hits with his hands for some time, but the pain impulses that followed disoriented him. He was almost unconscious; which would eventually lead him to a broken neck and death when the execution suddenly stopped.

When the darkness that obscured his vision dissipated, he understood why: Alvaro was spitting blood and trembling, as if he had been taken naked in the frost. And in the middle of his chest, where a normal person should have had a heart, was protruding the grip of a small silver dagger, almost drowned in the body. His face was written with unimaginable surprise and pain; and through some incredible way derived from his arsenal of black-sorcery knowledge, he made his heart keep beating, despite a mortal wound.

Jerry turned his head, following Alvaro's gaze. Fifteen steps behind him, he saw his new acquaintance in a red cloak. His fingers of both hands were flipping the handles of silver daggers at an unimaginable speed so that upon seeing it Jerry realized that "Silver Knife" or "Knife Thrower" was not just a nickname, but a purpose, the function of this mighty warrior! The one who throws silver death, and never misses his target.

Upon meeting Jerry's questioning gaze, Silver Knife answered his non announced yet question, continuing to flip the shiny metal:

"They can't stop silver. It's passive to Feather Sorcery as some other metals." And then, he added, addressing Alvaro:

"Call them! You know you can't withstand the second one! And let them bring his siblings. I'll let you enter the gates if they let them go."

Jerry saw fear and helplessness on Alvaro's face for the first time. A moment after Silver Knife's words, he nodded feverishly and called.

Jerry mentally heard his whisper, knowing that Silver Knife was hearing it, as well. The stress after the fight with the baker awakened in him mental anomalies, and extrasensory abilities. Although, he was rather indebted to the Black Monastery for this. They tormented him for so long that on the edge of death, his subconscious developed a way to master those things instinctively.

Meanwhile, after three minutes passed, several people came out of the gates. The last one led Anne and Jose, holding them by the hands.

Stopping at the gates themselves, he pushed them towards Jerry. Jose started to cry. Jerry picked him up in his arms, and Anne, clung to him, grasping his waist with her hands and bearing her small golden hair head into his belly, looking for protection from her old brother.

Only after Silver Knife nodded with his head and Alvaro, staggering, walked to the gate. At the threshold, he was picked up and brought inside. Outside, only two remained: Master Miranj and another instructor whose name Jerry did not know. Luke was not among them.

Jerry hesitated to leave, although he got more today than he could have possibly expected a while ago.

"Where is your Shadow Master? Why am I speaking to trainers?" Silver Knife asked the remaining ones sternly, looking even a bit disappointed.

"Lucifer is away," Master Miranj quietly replied, "I'm standing in for him today.

"Then it's all the worse for you..."

"What are the terms of the duel?" the second trainer intervened in the conversation, ignoring the threat from Silver Knife.

"Three until sunset here and two, at night, a hundred steps from the seawater.

"You are very arrogant and self-confident, Silver Thrower!" Miranj noted, but when the fingers, still playing the daggers, folded into a throwing grip, he visibly shuddered, blinking.

"Ease up and without insults," Silver Knife said, restraining the ready-to-fly off a death. Those are good conditions for you."

"Yes, those are indeed good conditions," the second trainer confirmed. "And before the sunset, your head will decorate our celebration dinner.

"Don't count on it. I'll be cooking today!" replied Silver Knife, sharply throwing off his coat and preparing for a fight. The mentors returned to the monastery, apparently for some of their special preparations. Seeing Jerry still standing nearby, Silver Knife addressed him: "Leave now. And as quickly as possible. The city authorities have been under their control for a long time, so go straight to the port. Take a boat to the lighthouse. The lighthouse keeper is a friend of mine; tell him I have sent you. He'll put you on a ship to the New World overseas. Got it?"

Jerry nodded frantically, not knowing what to say.

"And take this," Silver Knife added after a second. A wallet the size of a child's fist, swollen with coins, fell to his feet.

Jerry shocked by that generosity didn't dare to take the wallet.

"Won't they be useful to you?" he asked, piercing with a gaze the generous gift.

"If I'm killed here, no," Silver Knife replied nonchalantly.

"And if you win?" Jerry asked.

Silver Knife smiled:

"Then it's hardly worth getting upset about losing a couple of dozen elfers! And you need the money to start a new life overseas. Take care of your loved ones. Go now, they'll be back soon!"

Jerry picked up the wallet and, glancing at Silver Knife, who was busy with his preparations, whispered, more to himself than the guy:

"I'm sorry, I can't stay and help Silver Knife."

But Silver Knife was no longer listening, having entered some kind of meditative technique trance, preparing for a fierce battle of one silver thrower against black monastery sorcerers…

Jerry quickly headed towards the city, holding hands with his family members, trying not to look back. He felt somehow bad as if he were betraying the most reliable friend in the world, one he could hope to acquire in his whole life. At first, he walked quickly, then started running, picking up his sister and brother under the armpits, who were unable to keep up with his pace.

As he approached the gates from the port side, he slowed his run, and put the siblings to the ground, heavily breathing. The weather, for some reason, began to deteriorate. Quickly. Changing literally before his eyes. Clouds came from the north, covering the sky and bringing darkness. Somewhere lightning flashed and the smell of cold autumn rain spread fast in the air.

Jerry gave one last look back, towards the Black Monastery, now hidden behind the veil of darkness, and stepped towards the dock, where his dream awaited him.