Dance of the Swords

"Kilik. She is up to something. This is merely for entertainment and by no means is it real combat. Do you understand?" Saith's face was planted slightly in between the gate's boards that separated him from Kilik. A guard was helping Kilik tighten the strings on his leather sleeves.

"I know. There is nothing to worry about Heliar. I understand your meaning." Kilik readjusted his sleeves and reached over to pick up his sword that was leaned against the gate. Giving off a slight nod, he made his way towards the center of the training grounds.

There were seven pavilions surrounding the training grounds elevated slightly with three steps. The crowd of people that had gathered earlier were not seated in their respective seats to watch their annual Dance of the Swords. Kilik stopped directly in the center and stared at Qemor. Qemor had not yet made his way to the center, but instead was leaning on the rails infront of Cobrantes' pavilion. He had not even so much as attempted to adorn fighting gear, save for a sword that was hugged against his chest beneath his crossed arms. The two had not even said a word to one another after Qemor announced entering the competition. Kilik had noticed them both just watching Kilik and the Heliar.

Qemor finally made his way to the center of the grounds and stood before Kilik. He was several inches taller than him and a lot brawnier, however that did not frighten him. Kilik had taken men's lives that were much larger than he. Although this was for pure entertainment, Kilik understood what the outcome of this battle would mean.

Kilik, a famous, young Hiza and head to Kajor's royal guards was now facing against Lusidor's General and Second to the queen, Qemor. Kilik had heard the ruthless tales about the kingdom and how they had prospered due to the victories from their generals. They took back lands that were stolen from the northern kingdom and rebels. More importantly, Kilik understood that his victory was necessary to maintain the dignity of his kingdom. One general to another.

Kilik tried to read his facial expressions but could only find a look of annoyance from having to wait for the signal to begin. Qemor's posterior was showing every bit of nonchalance. Not an inch of sweat dripped down his forehead from the heat of the desert sun. Nothing seemed to faze Qemor and that, in itself, made Kilik doubtful.

The drums to start the competition must have sounded while Kilik studied Qemor's face. He snapped out of his thoughts to dodge Qemor's oncoming blade in the nick of time. Sidestepping away from the swipe that followed his opponent's sword, Kilik countered with a slash of his own.

Qemor's body easily maneuvered around the blade and while using the weight of his body, he pushed his arm against Kilik's shoulder, causing him to stumble back. The impact of the attack caused Kilik to rock backwards almost losing his balance giving Qemor time to follow through with his sword chasing after.

Kilik connected his sword. The ringing of the two blades echoed throughout the grounds as they connected again and again. Several gasps and sounds of surprise escaped the lips of several of the spectators. Whenever one sword got close to connecting with flesh, the crowd's gasps loudened.

Kilik had been defending and not yet attacking to get a feel for his opponent. He had hoped to tire him out before leaving his defensive position however found the opposite happening with himself. He studied Qemor's steady expression and even more consistent attacks. It seemed as though he would be waiting forever.

Qemor twirled effortlessly around Kilik's advance. With his back to Kilik, he threw his sword over his shoulder to defend against Kilik's own slashing at his back. Leaning into his right leg, he crouched to spin back around and countered at the young Hiza's neck, leaving a slight scratch as Kilik pushed his knee upwards into Qemor's arm.

The force of his knee connecting with Qemor's arm popped his sword out of his hand. Thinking quick on his feet, he spun to catch it with his left and with the momentum flipped his foot around to connect with Kilik's arm.

Kilik somersaulted with the kick, landing in a crouching position, with one knee bracing himself up on the floor. His sword's end was buried in the ground holding him up. Sand was wafted in the air from the strenuous fighting, slightly clouding their vision. Tears caused from the dust, stained Kilik's eyes a bit. He was very tired and frustrated. All his training throughout the years and he could not see through his opponent this time. He understoodd the gravity of needing to win this competition. He understood the dishonor it would bring his kingdom if he were to fail.

Dashing out in sheer desperation Kilik attempted one last attack.

Qemor stood as still as a stone wall and braced himself for the oncoming sword. Kilik lunged towards him with his sword directly at his chest. Right before he was within arm's length on Qemor, he switched his footing to have his blade aim for his side. It was going to work. Kilik was sure of it. He saw the look of surprise in Qemor's eyes as his blade suddenly switched position! He saw the look of uncertainty on his face. He saw.....a smile?

Qemor's steady stance allowed him to pivot away from the attack to slide his blade around Kilik's. The metal screeched as the two blades ground together. With Kilik still in momentum towards him, Qemor disconnected the two swords and lunged forward slicing through Kilik's leather armaments into his side. Jabbing his sword into the ground, Qemor stood facing away from him, leaning onto his sword. Staring smugishly towards the direction of the Heliar.

Pain rang from Kilik's side causing him to dropped down to his knees. He clutched his side where the sword had connected and drew his hand back to find blood. There was a lot of it. He pressed into the open wound to slow the bleeding down not yet able to turn to face his opponent. He knew the match was over and all he could do was stare ahead into the pavilion where Cateile had jumped from out of her seat at the sight of him being injured.

He could hear footsteps scurrying to his side, probably servants rushing to his aid to ensure he was okay. By the looks on the spectator's faces, he knew the fight was over and that he had lost. The onlookers in the pavilion facing him were all showing expressions of genuine concern and worry for the young Hiza. Everyone except Cobrantes. Cobrantes stared through him. No. Passed him towards the Heliar. And just like his opponent, there was not an expression that he could read on her face. The Heliar's Royal Guardsman had lost against a foreign nation's General at the Dance of the Swords.