Scarlett Emberheart's Arc

Chapter 5 of 14

Scarlett slept in her armor. At dawn she walked from the rented room to the arena with her sword on her hip and Konic's bruise dark under the plate. The marshals waved her through the competitor gate. She waited in the shaded tunnel while the stands filled above her, boots and voices rolling down the stone. The first bout was called late. A page ran up with a slate and told her the ledger had been corrected. Her opening opponent was not the knight listed the night before. She would fight Sir Konic first. She knew the ledger had not been wrong. She knew who had written the new name on it. She said nothing. She stepped through the arch onto the field. Konic waited at the center in black plate trimmed with gold, red cape short at his shoulders. He nodded to her as if they were strangers. The marshal walked them to the weapon rack and read the rule aloud. Each fighter would choose one weapon and one only. Konic took a long axe with a spike at its head. Scarlett took a straight arming sword, a hand's width shorter than her own, but balanced. The horn sounded. He came at her fast. She turned the first cut on the flat and stepped off the line. She cut at his thigh and struck plate. He swung the axe head low and she jumped it. They circled. He was heavier and taller and did not tire. She landed nothing. He landed nothing. Every time she pressed, he set the axe haft between them and pushed her back a pace. Every time he swung, she was already moving. Her breath came louder inside the helm. Sweat ran into her eyes. Konic smiled through the visor slit. He smiled when she blocked. He smiled when she slipped. He smiled when she stepped wide to buy air. He was not fighting to end her in the first round. He was fighting to wear her down. Her arms grew heavy before his did. She felt it in her shoulders and knew he felt it too. She missed a parry and the axe haft cracked against her ribs where his gauntlet had struck the night before. She staggered, kept her feet, and drove the point at his gorget. He turned it away without effort. The horn sounded for the round break before she could set her stance again. She walked to her corner on stiff legs. Konic walked to his at the same pace he had started at. He rested the axe on his shoulder and looked at her across the sand, still smiling. Scarlett sat on the bench, pulled off her helm, and pressed her palm flat to her ribs. The bruise had opened wider under the plate. She had three minutes.