She takes a chance and start to dream. She dreams of blood, of violence and of steel.
Becasue she is steel. She has the will of an old magician and the body of a young woman with sinewy muscles in her arms and her long legs.
Tomorrow she will prove it. Tomorrow is the day she has been waiting for since she was 4, now 9 years ago.
Tomorrow she will finally meet him. The one who has challenged her for her rightful place at her mothers side.
He is 21, 3 years older than her, and almost twice her size.
But she will win. She is faster than him, and as long as she can keep out of his reach, she can win.
Morning comes while she is still sitting at her window. She hums a random tune as she goes to the armory to get her equipment.
On goes the chainmail that protects her upper body and the chain-skirt that protects her thighs. On her feet she uses thick leather boots and she's got leather gloves. No helmet. It would just be in the way. She ties her long hair in a ponytail and picks up her whip, made especially for this day. It's a 12 feet long bullwhip made of red-dyed leather, except for one little detail. The tip is made of a barbed steel arrowhead, polished and sharpened to razor-like sharpness.
She puts her dagger in her belt. It's a small thing, with a short grip and a short blade. The blade is weighed, so it can be used for throwing with great accuracy.
Now, out into the sunshine she goes, to kill her first man. For honor, for the right to sit on her mothers side, but most of all for the thirst. The thirst for blood is great in her, the thirst for violence and carnage even greater.
She enters the fighting area. He is already there. He does not look at her, doesn't even glance her way.
There is a big crowd today. This fight is the one the people have been waiting for for 9 years.
It is for power, glory, honor, and it is to the death.
A bell is struck and the crowd turns quiet. A man comes into the fighting area. he is tall, heavily muscled and his skin is tanned by years of sun. He is scarred from toe to forehead, having fought in innumerable wars, conflicts and barfights. His right eye is simply not there.instead there's a gaping hole where it should be. he won't hide it with a patch, because he believes it strikes fear into his enemies. He is right.
He speaks slowly and deliberately. His voice is a dark bass with a low and sad undertone.
"I will not take long. We have all waited for this day too long already. Since the day Rihaz turned four she has trained endlessly and undaunted for this day. She will fight my son, Stiga, for the right to rule this land.”
He looks at the two fighters. His son and the dead queens daughter. He loves them both, but he will lose one of them today. He does not know which one of them he wants to win.
“Let this fight be clean and fair. You may begin!”
She immediately goes into a crouch while pulling her whip free of her belt with her left hand. She has her dagger in her right hand.
Stiga goes into his combat stance, his weapons of choice being a sword in each hand. This is a fighting style that takes years to master and requires enormous strength in the arms and good balance and reflexes. How well does he fight with this style? We shall soon find out.
He charges her, but she rolls away with ease, using the wip to ensnare his feet when she comes up from the roll. He trips and falls and she moves in for the kill, wanting to stab him in his heart, but he rolls away and lashes out at her with his right-hand weapon. She evades the blade and stabs his arm with her dagger instead.
He doesn’t even flinch.
Now he’s up on his feet again, having loosened the whip on the way up, holding it in his left hand, his sword lying on the ground at his feet. He starts to reel her in, but she throws the dagger at him, catching him in the left shoulder. This time he cries out, more in savage fury than in pain. He takes the dagger, pulls it out and charges her again. This time she’s not fast enough to evade the blow and he places a savage blow to her stomach which causes her to double over and loose her breath. She is stunned. There’s nothing she can do. He moves in for the kill.
Just as he is about to strike, he feels a savage pain in his belly. Looking down he sees that sha has pushed the arrowhead of her whip into his stomach, making sure it’s barbs are stuck in his flesh. He bellows with insane pain, finally, and goes berserk. He throws away his weapons and starts hitting her with his fists, raining blows down upon her, all pain forgotten. At first the blows hurt her, oh, how they hurt!
After a few hits she can’t feel the pain any more. The world grows darker and finally everything goes black.
When his rage ends he is sitting on top of her, his hands covered in blood and brains, her head broken, smashed to pieces under his powerful hammering fists.
He looks around, sees the grave faces around him. Nobody is cheering, nobody is smiling.
He picks up her broken body and holds her to his chest, and he cries for her. He cries for the one he loved. He cries for his wife, whom he just killed…
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