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Rainfall on Judgment Day
Chapter 5
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present
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The first pair in the arena are a pair of castle knights, two young men who walk with a gentle confidence and hold their weapons with a comfortable ease in such a way that it sends a pang of nostalgia through him. They stand at opposite ends of the arena, and at Arden's signal, the match begins.
Sain watches the pair exchange blows with each other as his mind wanders to a time over twenty years in the past, a sparring match in the early morning air, the breeze cool against warm skin, the easy camaraderie of young men who had grown and fought together. Tears prickle the back of his eyes; he blinks them away quickly as the match ends, and the tournament continues.
The matches continue, the participants ranging from a few Caelin knights to mercenaries and village lads and even a few women as well, wielding their weapons as well as any man. From his vantage point on the balcony above the makeshift arena he watches them, smiling quietly to himself as he fondly recognizes the emotions written plainly on the faces of the less experienced fighters: uncertainty, fear, and the small spark of unyielding determination.
One of the participants in particular catches his attention—a young woman wearing the loose robes of the Sacaean swordsmen, a long, curved sword forged in the eastern style at her side. She gazes at her competition emotionlessly; when she enters the arena for her own match she is silent, watching Arden until the signal is given.
And then, she strikes.
Her movements are fast and precise, and her opponent—a slender man who carries his lance deftly, if not perhaps a bit hesitantly—is caught off-guard. He backpedals clumsily out of reach, but catches himself quickly and lunges toward the girl, lance poised to jab quickly, like the sharp bite of a serpent hidden in the grass.
It is over moments later, the man's lance held directly above the hollow of the young woman's throat. She closes her eyes. She murmurs something to her opponent, and he offers her his hand to help her up. Taking his hand, she stands up and is escorted from the arena, taking her place on the sidelines as the next pair prepare themselves.
For the remainder of the tournament, Sain finds his attention torn between the matches and the young swordswoman waiting at the edge of the arena. The look in her dark eyes is proud and defiant, and yet her posture is taut and serious, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. The familiarity of her stance is heartwrenching, and yet he does not know why.
Who are you, lass? Sain wants to ask. When did we last meet?
But he says nothing, and so the tournament continues.
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Xirysa Says: Have something serious after all the Crackwood. Roflmao.
Seriously, though. I think I'm really liking these shorter chapters. Thanks for reading! Feedback is welcome. C: