The clash of blades sounded throughout the street and rang in Rowark's ear. The deathly glare on her face sent a terrifying chill down his muscles when he drew her attention. The heat of the purple fires had turned her skin all black. The only thing Hylian looking about her was the figure of her female body and her discolored eyes, the red one on her right thirsting for his blood.
The explosion turned the plaza into a chaotic mess as people ran for their lives. All he needed was her attention. "You dare interrupt my vengeance?"
"Vengeance? Is that what this is? You don't have to kill innocent people to extract your revenge!" Rowark barked right back like a mother scolding an immature child. He very briefly took his eyes away from his immolated opponent to see a Link running away from a bloodied plot of pavement. But that short, half a heartbeat proved to be near fatal.
With no audible warning, the curved blade of her deadly sword swung along his polearm. Rowark had to break contact and jump back, and as he leaned backwards, he could almost feel the sharp metal trim his neck. Blood rushed into his system. He was in for a fight. And this was a fight he was not prepared for. She was faster than lightning, and he was only too lucky that his head was not being kicked around in the street at this moment. To top it all off, the weapon he was holding felt more unwieldy the longer he held it.
The length of the polearm did not bother him, and though it was slightly shorter than the army issue spear, Rowark was trained to fight as a unit, just like everyone else in the military was. His years of drilling did not prepare him well for single combat with a weapon meant for dueling. In this duel to the death against a fiery demon, Rowark's only reliable defense, which he had used countless times in every fight, skirmish, and battle, was distance.
Her scimitar gleamed in the brilliant summer sunlight. Long and broad, the curved blade was the epitome of a masterpiece. The outrageous price for one kept the deadly steel out of the hands of nearly anyone who was not Gerudo. Attempts to recreate the scimitar with normal, Hylian smithing methods resulted in a poorer than standard quality falchion, and no falchion could cut through solid steel plate armor nor clip the wings of a bug like the Gerudo scimitar could.
She spread her arms like a flaming eagle and then declared, "Araksheyn Reyavu!" while pointing the tip of the blade at him.
The heartbeat the demon moved, Rowark backpedaled one step and jabbed his blade forth, opting for the kill shot instead of the disarmament shot. Her parry sent his probing attack away, and she countered with a swift, diagonal slash. He retreated again and brought his glaive up to meet her attack halfway, ringing the clash of metal upon metal throughout the streets. He sidestepped an incoming vertical slash, and before she could follow up with another swing, he had already hopped back out of harm's reach.
But she was relentless. This pattern kept up with no break. Rowark focused on executing his strategy, which was to stay away from her as far as possible, and hold out until either he gave out or help arrived. Staying light on his feet was the key. He knew that his glaive could cut better than an army spear and impale just as comparably, but the latter tactic kept his opponent at a safer distance and was the only attack he was trained to do. Time your enemy! was the mantra drilled into his head by his Commanding Knight. Timing could be the factor that saved Rowark's life.
While the female kept her feet light and danced around her opponent, Rowark flat footedly pivoted around slowly while timing the Gerudo's rhythmic swings of rage. But not only did he have to focus on defending her attacks, he also had to simultaneously worry about breaking his own offensive rhythm. When he decided to attempt his own attack, he quickly jabbed the extended blade forth at her throat, then her face, and then her body. Nothing!? His spear struck nothing, air, and then steel.
The Gerudo demon slipped a fourth, follow up attack by rotating her shoulder, prepping her for a powerful backhand attack, and then unleashed a powerful swing at Rowark's face. Had Rowark been half a heartbeat too late, his reactionary block would have been for naught. Good thing the polearm was sturdy! The power of the slash made Rowark worry that the perpendicularly held staff would cave under the pressure, but as Gerudo weapons consistently did, it held true.
A sudden, searing kick into his exposed side knocked the breath out of him, as if a torch had struck his ribcage, and almost set his tunic on fire. Rowark keeled over in pain, but there was no time to recover. The flash of the blade in the air forced him to instinctively raise his weapon to block the attack, just in time to the stop the blade a palm away from his own flesh. Blood rush through his body as soon as he felt the impact against the polearm ring the clash of blades.
Rowark swung the heavy blade of his glaive around to counter her strong momentum. But instead of retreating, the Gerudo ducked under the attack, leaving him wide open for another counter. He jumped as her sword reached forth and nicked his tunic. She spun around and prepared for another high attack. The knight moved his weapon to meet the attack head on, but once he did so, he found out that the high attack was a feint.
Continuing with his momentum, he spun away from the Gerudo's next attack, but it could not save his leg from being cut. Pain surged through his thigh as the scimitar created a shallow wound in his flesh. Warm blood began oozing onto his ripped pants as he retreated further back.
His leg still felt functional, but only barely. With his leg no longer fully capable, Rowark switched stances from right-handed to left-handed so that his hurt leg would not be exposed, but doing so meant that all of his techniques and skills learned as a soldier would be reversed. It didn't matter if he was wielding a Gerudo glaive or the army issue spear; wielding anything in the opposite hands of what he was used to was going to feel awkward.
There was not even a heartbeat of rest before the Gerudo kept on with her attack. She swung her sword over her head and then brought it down diagonally, an attack that was hard to block with a polearm, so Rowark hopped back and countered his blade horizontally at her waist, low enough so she couldn't duck underneath. Just when his long range swing was about to strike her, she indeed ducked low enough, bending her flexible torso over and hovering just over the ground. Within the blink of an eye, the Gerudo planted her hand on the ground and kicked her leg up into the air and straight towards Rowark's face.
He leaned back just far enough for the foot to whiff past his nose. Then he felt a cold slice down his forearm, and had he not jumped back in time, the steel of the scimitar would have cut his chest wide open. Always counter when the enemy attacks, even if you're dying! echoed the voice of his Commanding Knight. He gave his long weapon a twirl, something that was not taught at army camp, but felt natural nonetheless with the way the weapon was designed. Once both hands awkwardly gripped the handle of the pole, Rowark thrusted twice.
The first stab was parried away, and the second was sidestepped. Timing! Rowark sensed that she was going to follow up her slip with an aggressive counter, so he retracted the glaive once more and jabbed the blade into her shoulder as she planted her back foot for a charge. The steel managed to nick her shoulder, catching her unaware, and as soon as the blade made contact with skin, a bit of her flesh broke off as if made of ash and disintegrated in the purple flames.
"RAAAAGH!" screamed the Gerudo in rage. The blackened skin behind the flames was no longer visible, replaced by a dark, skeletal figure with bright, murderous red eyes. Closing the distance between her and the knight in one leap, she unleashed a powerful swing, "YAHH!"
That was only too easily timed. Rowark parried the incoming attack with the metal blade of his own weapon, pivoted on his back foot, and unleashed his own wide swing. Her sword stopped Rowark's attack dead, allowing her the opportunity to grab the polearm's shaft. He tried to tug back, but her unyielding grip with her sole hand overpowered any attempt to break the shaft free.
With a swift, downward stroke, the demon cleaved the polearm into two pieces, leaving Rowark with nothing more than a metal stick. Dread filled his body as he chance of death became more probable. However, the flames covering her body had noticeably receded. Perhaps she was reaching her limit?
Her onslaught suggested otherwise. His shortened, metal pole met her vertical stroke, and then it met her backhanded follow up. She was going to kick, and Rowark jumped back to avoid her attack just as he predicted. At least this combination became more and more familiar. Her overwhelming attacks afterward proved why the Gerudo were considered far superior fighters than some of the most seasoned knights. Unlike most fighters, she frequently switched attacks between her sword and kicks, aimed both high and low, set up feints, and flowed through each combination of strikes continuously. Guessing where she was going to aim at was like guessing the timing and position of each sting from an angry swarm of bees.
Keeping up with her unpredictable patterns as best as he could, Rowark shut down his flight instinct like many times before to keep up with her quick strikes. His flat footed stance could barely keep up with her dancing feet, his stamina was slowly wearing down, and his breaking point was in sight. After enduring a cut here on his arm and there on his leg, it took every bit of mental focus to keep his exhausted defenses disciplined. His only saving grace was that her attacks were becoming more desperate and less technical, meaning they were easier to see coming.
Just as he thought that, a powerful downward swing nearly caught Rowark unprepared. He lifted his metal pole to block the crushing stroke. The power behind her death blow felt unreal even by Hylian standards. Even with two hands on the stick, Rowark swore he was pushing back against the strength of a Goron. But by the time he felt a burning leg kick out his own leg from underneath him, it was too late for him to deduce that the vertical strike was only a setup.
Small burning embers painfully seared his skin, but he had no time to worry about his burning pants. The next attack nearly caught him off guard, and his last ditch effort to parry the strike ended up costing him his weapon. Her counter parry sent Rowark's weapon out of his hands. She followed up that attack with another spinning kick to his face, striking him squarely across the jaw. The force of the impact almost knocked him consciousness and sent Rowark tumbling onto the floor, the impact against the ground jolting him awake.
The Gerudo demon slowly closed in on her kill. "Are you prepared to meet your end?" she asked him as he urgently stood up and regained posture. No! he silently answered her rhetorical question. The strategy of keep away did not change. It would be a matter of heartbeats before the watchmen would get here. Rowark just needed to survive until then.
With murderous intent, the Gerudo began another flurry of attacks. Rowark did his best to dodge each stroke, but the movements began to put a strain on the wounded parts of his body. Once he jumped back from a quick, horizontal swing, his wounded legs could no longer keep up with the speed, and he lost balance as soon as his foot hit an unseen dead body. He landed on his rear but did not stop backing away from her. His eyes shot downward to her exposed legs walking purposefully yet unaware. Rowark still had one more trick up his sleeve. Never count a Hylian soldier out 'til he's dead!
When she was finally within killing distance, she raised her weapon for the final plunge. Rowark lunged in the opposite direction he was going, toward her, as a last desperate attempt to save his life from the incoming sword stab. His foot kicked out and caught the demon in the ankle, shooting through the fiery flesh like it was nothing. Like his Commanding Knight had drilled into him, Rowark rolled over and sat up into a defensive position.
Without a second support base, the demon unsuspectingly toppled over onto the hard pavement. "NOOooo!" roared the demon, unable to move a muscle. What was going on? Her limbs were trembling, a sign that she was using her entire willpower to move the slightest bit. "Not yet! AAargh!" the fire that once fueled her god-like strength and speed seemed to be consuming her alive instead. Her screams started to sound more painful than they did terrifying.
"NOOO!" was her last cry before the final flames snuffed the last bit of her life.
Where there was once a purple, fiery immolation now only revealed a Hylianoid figure made of ash. The scimitar fell from her charred hand. A warm, gentle breeze blew through the street and carried the ashes along with its journey, disintegrating the body into nothingness. There was nothing left of the Gerudo but the scimitar laying on the ground.
Rowark looked around in disbelief that he was still alive. Only then did he realize how heavy his breaths were. The bodies from the fiery explosion certainly did not have that same privilege. Anxious thoughts raced through his head. As the blood rush slowly subsided, the burns on his face. The bystanders standing from as far a distance as possible looked unsure whether the fight was over or not. This was the opportunity for Rowark to disappear before any watchmen arrived at the scene and asked him any questions. He had his own questions to ask.
"Rowark!" the familiar voice came from Miro Miro as she appeared in front of him.
"Urgh," the grunt to the intensifying pain was unintentionally the first thing that came out of Rowark's mouth. "Hey," he greeted with a tired smile. Exhaustion was rapidly settling into his injured body, his eyelids felt heavier, and soreness creeped through his muscles. He grunted as he attempted to pick himself off the ground.
"How badly are you hurt?"
"I'm, ugh, I'm fine," he wasn't, "I think." Burns in his thigh and his face screamed in pain. Lacerations on his arms and legs cried out too. "Argh!" he could no longer contain his body's screams.
"Hang on, Rowark, help is on the way," said Miro Miro, "I think?"
Rowark picked his head up to see who was walking his way. Coming from the street side, three watchmen had emerged from the crowd and were jogging towards him, and judging by how fast it took them to reach Rowark, they were probably watching the fight from afar. Coming from the brothel side, twelve Gerudo sentries were marching towards him with their weapons raised, seemingly innocent, but their glaives would not be present if they did not anticipate trouble.
The watchmen reached Rowark first. The eldest of the three extended his hand forth, "Oy you, you okay? Let's get you to an infirmary and then get you in for a debriefing." Shoot. Rowark wished instead he would be taken in by the Gerudo instead of being dragged to answer mindless hours of boggling questions about an incident about which he had many questions himself. He groaned as if trying to say, leave me alone.
Sasha responded with the might of twelve, fearsome Gerudo warriors versus their three watchman, "He is an honored guest of the Desert Oasis. He shall remain at the Desert Oasis." The watchmen were army trained, drilled in the same ways of combat as Rowark, but their great disadvantage was showing clearly through fearful faces. These men were old enough to know the tales of Gerudo, the race of women who held off the repeated advances of the Hylian sorties with underwhelming numbers.
"Absolutely not," responded the bearded one back with the authority of the Hylian throne behind him. Rowark knew not his name, but his middle aged had been familiar sight at the mess hall. That each and every soldier was a representative of the Queen gave this lowly watchmen his resolve against the deadly glares of the warriors, "He is a watchman of Her Majesty's royal forces! He will be treated by Her Majesty's royal forces, and we will take him by force if need be!"
"He's staying with us. We will match your force fourfold if need be," replied Sasha calmly. It was true. If one of the three left to retrieve help, then their disadvantage would grow to six women to one man. And then there was really nothing they could do to stop Sasha. With all this in mind, she smiled like a viper who had trapped her prey, "And by the time you send word for help, your superiors will have already ordered Rowark to stay with us."
What? "On whose orders?" asked the watchman, but before he could get an answer, Rowark's consciousness gave in to his fatigue as soon as the watchman finished the sentence.