Rhythm and Pain

My eyes fluttered open. For a moment I just lie on my soft, warm bed, staring at the ceiling, while my curiosity fights against the lethargic side of me. The doctor had told me to stay put and every twitch of my bandaged limbs felt like high-fiving burning coal, but despite every good reason to get some rest, my curiosity won, like she always did. Ignoring everything Xepec said, I struggled to my feet, forcing my aching body to cooperate with my restless mind.

"Here goes nothing", I muttered as I heaved my body off the bed. Pain shot through my leg as I stood up, and I groaned, pressing my hand to my mouth to stifle a grimace. The pain felt like fire coursing through my veins, and it took all my might to keep steady. Compared to the pain I experienced earlier that day, however, this was nothing - or at least, not as much.

Slowly, using the nearest wooden bed-frame for support, I made my way to the door, passing dozens of hospitalized people. I couldn't help but marvel at the feats Xepec had accomplished. Each and every person here appeared to be badly wounded, yet he somehow managed to keep them alive and on the way to recovery. Where I came from, an unlucky fall from a tree could mean death or a life as a cripple, but here, in the Stitchers clinic, even losing the lower half of your body doesn't seem to be vital.

I made a mental note to try and secure an interview with him later.

Each step I took was agonizing, but the thrill of the unknown pushed me forward, my heart racing with anticipation. Another shout, this time from a man's voice.

"Drop your weapon!"

Two more steps and I closed my hand around the doorknob. When I opened the door and looked outside, a bizarre picture unfolded before my eyes. Outside the house was a large square surrounded by buildings made of stone, forming a huge circle, like a marketplace.

Skarra stood a few feet away from the clinic I was in. Surrounding her stood dozens of people in a circle, in thick plate armor, their weapons resting on the ground. Opposing her stood a man with hair, black as night, with the same leathery black rags as the snake woman. On his upper lips grew an impressive mustache.

I stood at the entrance of a cobblestone marketplace, where the sounds of commerce and the smell of food filled the air. At the center of it all stood Skarra, who was quickly surrounded by heavily armored men with their weapons resting on the ground. On the opposite side of her stood a tall gentleman with jet black hair and a neatly trimmed mustache, also dressed in black leather, who appeared to be the leader of this contingent. How on earth had Skarra managed to get into such a situation, weren't assassins supposed to be sneaky?"

I could feel the tension in the air as Skarra assessed the situation, her hand grasping the hilt of her dagger.

The fight had started before I could realize it.

The man with the mustache sprang forward, punching Skarra in the stomach.

While his fist dug into her, he made the name of his technique known.

"Rhythm of War - Initial Assault."

Skarra groaned, shifting her body to avoid the bulk of the impact, and let her Krajar blink out of its sleeve. The man blocked the blade with a flowing motion that could have been part of a dance, hadn't it ended with his fist in Skarras face. The two of them moved so fast that I could barely recognize what they were doing. At one moment, Skarra tumbled back, the man's foot closing in on her, on the next her blade tore apart his pants, leaving behind a trail of red. The men and women around them didn't seem to mind, some even cheering for Skarra.

The two combatants separated, the mustachioed man adopted some sort of fighting stance, with one foot placed behind the other, one fist under his chin, the other outstretched towards Skarra. He was bouncing periodically off the ground like he was dancing to a silent beat. "Rhythm of War - Unrelenting March", he named the stance. " "Drumming Deterrent", he added as he shot towards the crouching Skarra. The attack sent the man charging towards Skarra, launching a flurry of blows that put her on the defensive. She ducked and weaved through the storm of strikes, finally rolling out of the way, narrowly avoiding the man's jointed hands crashing into the ground.

Her Kraja pecked the man's back, embellishing his black hunter's coat with a few red holes.

"For bloodman's sake", he shouted, his voice strained by pain. "What kind of a fight is that?"

The crowd laughed. Skarra danced backwards, coming to a halt in her common crouching stand, her Krajar raised in front of her. Her face was completely expressionless. Seeing her like this, an unknown fear creeped into my mind. I had never seen her actually fight someone. I know I should have, but I didn't expect her to be so, business as usual about it.

The man turned around, cracking his neck. His feet were still tapping in the same rhythm as before.

"Mordent Attack"

The next thing I saw his arms closed in on Skarra, like he wanted to hug her, having jumped arms first towards his opponent. She jumped on his back and smashing her Krajars pommel on the pack of his head. Before she could land, he had already turned around and let another "Drumming Deterrent" rain down on her. The both of them flogged each other, Skarras precision and speed clashing with the man's sheer force. Again and again it looked like he had her, the next hit landing for sure, but in the last moment Skarra always managed to avoid his attacks, her movements resembling water, running down between his hands. His attacks were no doubt powerful, the sheer pressure of which was almost enough to sweep some of the onlookers off their feet. When his fists hit the ground, it shattered. Seeing their effect on stone I didn't want to imagine what they would do to flesh.

Skarra's attacks however were light. Some cuts here, a few jabs there, but after a while she began to wear the man out. Sweat dripped off his mustache, while Skarras' skin was as dry as sand. His feet growing slower, his breath more rigid, the fight ended with another "Drumming Deterrent".

She moved with astonishing grace, effortlessly dodging the fists trying to reach her at least once as if they were moving in slow motion. In a smooth and swift movement, she brought her foot forward and struck the man's legs, sweeping him off his feet in a single powerful motion. The man tumbled to the ground and before he could get up, a Krajar pressed against his throat.

The crowd around them began to clap and cheer as if it were nothing but a sparring match between the two. Confusion and surprise filled my companion's face as she looked around. Her eyes found me. She shot me a questioning look. As I try to shrug I flinch, as my arms wounds remind me of their existence.

Opening my mouth to say something, my heart froze in my chest as a hand wrapped around my shoulder.