I wish all of this torment would end and that I could just go back to the Priest Hall, Lyrad thought, closing his eyes for a moment. I will have failed the test, to be sure, but at least I would not be in all this pain and about to die. I’d rather live as a failure than die as a victor.
He stopped himself then. Some part of his mind balked at his own line of thinking, surprised he could ever wish such a thing. The memories from before came back again, a little less hazy. Thoughts of honor and battle filled his head for just a brief moment. The thoughts were stronger but still felt inherently foreign, as if they were someone else’s.
At the same time, Lyrad took advantage of his opponent’s lack of action and sat up as best he could. He squinted to focus on the man in black and see what he was up to. He was a perhaps a hundred feet away, and he was performing some strange ritual Lyrad had never seen before.
What is he doing?
It was hard for him to be sure, seeing as the man in black was so far away, but it appeared he had his right hand outstretched with the thumb pointed up to the sky. Then, something amazing happened. For the first time in the combat, the man in black was getting booed at. The crowd was positively livid over the man’s gesture.
Lyrad smiled slightly, but in reality, he had no idea whether or not this was a good thing.
Then, the man in black changed his hand gesture slightly, so that his thumb was pointed down towards the ground. This seemed to please the crowd and the chorus of cheers resumed.
He cocked his head to the side, still confused, but he knew one thing for certain – the crowd’s cheers meant he was once again in trouble.
The man in black moved purposefully over to Lyrad, walking very slowly to scare him.
It worked.
By the time the man in black reached him, Lyrad was scared out of his mind. The fear brought the strange memories from before to the forefront of his head yet again. Something deep inside Lyrad’s mind screamed at him to strike back at the man in black before he could strike him again, even though it went against every ounce of his priest training.
Still practically kneeling, Lyrad listened to the memories and lunged forward, attempting something of a grapple.
The man in black dodged his flailing limbs with the same practiced ease as before, then struck back with a move of his own, smashing his hand into Lyrad’s chest.
Lyrad heard a loud crack when his ribs broke and felt the wind leave his body as white-hot pain filled his chest. Water filled his eyes and each breath felt like fire leaving his lungs.
He knew something had to be done, so he whispered a few words, cast a megafixhurt spell and healed the brunt of his injuries. It was enough to ease the pain of breathing, though not much more.
“Had enough yet?” the man in black taunted him. His voice sounded guttural and demonic, and Lyrad couldn’t help but shake in fear at the sound of it.
Instinctively, Lyrad jumped to his feet and lashed out at his opponent, spitting in his eye. It was enough to distract the man in black briefly, which gave him a chance to get some distance. The man in black let out an inhuman growl that made Lyrad’s skin shiver once more as he calmly wiped the spit out of his eye. He looked at the priest trainee in a state of rage unlike any Lyrad had ever seen.
His opponent closed the gap between them in the blink of an eye and took a hold of Lyrad’s neck hard enough to strangle him, raising a balled fist in the air.
Lyrad braced himself for another blow while clawing at the hand that held him fast. He caught the glint of something strange in his opponent’s eyes as he struggled. He knew that look. It was the look of death.
The man in black was going for the kill. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was sure of it. Lyrad struggled against the man’s iron grip more fervently, trying to dig his nails into the man’s skin, but his garment made that impossible.
It quickly became clear there would be no escape that way. His vision started to fade as the life left him once more. The man in black made his move, swinging his fist forward towards his temple.
Lyrad shouted out the words to a byemove spell and was instantly teleported a few feet away to safety. The man in black’s hand hit hard dirt instead with a loud thunk.
The crowd’s chorus of “Down with the priest!” ended, replaced by cheers.
He looked up at the crowd and grinned at them, grabbing and rubbing at his bruised throat all the while, trying to coax air back through it. Then he remembered the man in black was still there, and the fight was still going on.
His opponent lifted his hand up off the ground and flexed it a few times like it was hurt, which brought a smile to Lyrad’s lips, but then he got up and shot him an icy stare that had no parallel. The smile quickly faded to nothing as the man in black growled again.
Lyrad was sure he wouldn’t have long until his opponent pushed the offensive again, but instead of focusing on a plan of attack, his thoughts turned back to escape.
I’ve got to find a passport out of this darn place. Oh, I wish I could just go home and go to sleep. That would be nice. To be in the Priest Hall once again, lying on my nice, soft bed with its goose-feather pillows. That would be much more comfortable than this. And soon it would be time to eat another fabulous, hot meal made by the
