The dramatic pause followed by the word ‘fire’ sent the crowd reeling back to Lyrad before they even saw him do anything. He shrugged his shoulders and flared out his hands, casting an airshape and a candleflicker spell at the same time. Searing blades formed in his hands, flames licking the edges.
Any supporters the man in black had in the crowd were gone now. Their cries of “Down with the priest!” had all but been replaced by “Kill the Dragon!”
The man in black must have gotten tired of the crowd’s change of heart, for he ran at Lyrad with his katana out in front. Lyrad watched his charge with a grim detachment, focused on something else. He had a plan now, and he knew just what to do.
Now where did they say they put that switch again? Oh yes, back there. Lyrad conjured up an earth dart with another spell and sent it flying. It whizzed past the man in black, mere inches from his face, then slammed into a small section of a nearby wall.
Click.
The strange noise reverberated throughout the stadium as the earth dart found purchase in a partially-hidden indent in the wall. All at once, the ground beneath the man in black began to shake. Then, out of nowhere, sharp spikes jumped out of hidden holes beneath the two combatant’s feet.
There was a pattern to the spikes’ movements, one Lyrad had been forced to memorize as a child. The man in black didn’t seem so lucky. One of the spikes jutted out of the ground directly beneath his right foot, impaling it before he could fully move out of the way.
His opponent howled in pain and tore his foot away, a small trail of blood following his movements and leaving a crimson trail on the hard soil. The man in black tested his foot for a moment, then continued his advance a little slower than before.
He rushed Lyrad, flipping over another pile of spikes at the last moment. Their blades clashed in a flurry of sparks and flames, Lyrad’s fire weapons holding their own against the man’s katana. They traded several blows and more sparks showered the battlefield.
The man in black made a daring slice at Lyrad’s left leg that left his upper body exposed. Lyrad saw through the attack, parrying the blow with his sword while at the same time slicing upward with his dagger in his off hand.
The man in black flailed, dodging backward, barely able to remain upright and almost skewering himself on another spike in the process, but he held on.
Lyrad took the momentary confusion as an opening, slicing into his opponent’s non-sword arm with a quick flick of his blade. The sword sank deep, almost down to the bone, cauterizing the wound in the same moment, leaving a nasty smoking scar on his opponent.
The man in black howled and more cheers for Lyrad erupted from the crowd. But his opponent merely shot him an icy glare and resumed his stance, katana in hand, like nothing had happened.
He exchanged a few more blows with Lyrad as the deadly spikes started to die down a bit, going to half their regular number. The black folds that hid his opponent’s face moved about like the man was grinning as he pressed the attack.
Lyrad brought his blades up to block another downward thrust at his middle just in time. He could feel his strength, which he’d augmented with magic, start to wane as the battle went on and wondered how he’d keep up.
The man in black took this to his advantage and came in with a sideways swipe of his katana aimed at Lyrad’s outstretched arms. The priest felt his life flash before his eyes as he knew he couldn’t dodge the blow in time and hoped for it to be quick.
But the blow never came. Lyrad looked up to see the man in black’s katana jutting out of a massive pillar of earth that had shot up from the ground, separating the two combatants.
He beamed, barely able to believe his luck, then ducked behind another pillar to give himself a moment to catch his breath and regroup.
The move pleased neither the crowd nor the man in black, but Lyrad didn’t care, he needed the rest. He hid behind the pillar as best he could while keeping an eye out for the man in black.
He watched his opponent struggle to wrest his sword free of the mound of dirt, finally succeeding with a loud grunt. The man hunted around, waving his sword in front of him and darting around several pillars.
For some reason, the crowd didn’t make any attempt to give away Lyrad’s position. He wasn’t sure why, but took the free gift as he slinked between several pillars, trying to keep his distance.
He’s only ten feet away now, he thought. I have to make my move soon.
He conjured his weapons again, holding them in front of his chest like a cross as his breathing finally started to return to normal. The jeers of the crowd faded until all he could hear was the sound of blood rushing past his ears and the labored breathing of his opponent.
Two feet. He’s right behind the next pillar.
Lyrad said a silent prayer to the Jheriem and waited to make his move.
The man in black rounded another corner, and –
“Hiyah!” the priest trainee screamed as he jumped out from behind his pillar, making a wicked slash at his younger self’s chest.
The man in black was unprepared for such a quick assault and brought his blade up, but only parried part of the blow. Lyrad’s fire weapon
