The Challenge

[Breaker]

Closed to Solomon.


"Back so soon? Why have you returned?"

I froze in mid-step. Out of the hundreds, possibly thousands of monks who frequented the Citadel, the only one I had ever spoken with happened to be on duty the day of my return. This very monk had, after observing my battle against the white haired nephew of death, suggested that I leave the Citadel and instead continue my training in the Dajas Pagoda. I had followed the advice, becoming a Warrior in Scara Brae's legendary training grounds. I enjoyed the position, but after several months took some time off to return to Radasanth. I felt a little guilty, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The monk had recommended I leave, yet there I was, back for more. I shrugged, trying to blow the question off.

"Dajas Pagoda is nice, but I miss the challenge this place provides."
"You refer to our... magical battle arenas?"

I recalled the last time I had seen him. The arena I entered that day was not exactly what one would call normal. Instead of a padded dojo or windswept beach, I had found myself travelling the deserted interior of a large department store. The astounding amount of improvised weaponry available made that battle nigh unforgettable. I hoped the duel I fought today would be as memorable, but for different reasons.

"Well yes... I won't pretend I don't enjoy the spontaneity of your battle domes. But what I meant... the challenge. I fought much more powerful opponents here than I ever have at the Pagoda. The partners you set me up with in the past stretched me to my limits; something Dajas Pagoda normally fails to do."

The monk nodded, his close-cropped hair waving a small salutation. His hair was fairly similar in cut to mine; not definitive in any way, just a short length that looked decent and stayed out of the way. Here, the physical similarities between us ended. The monk stood at least six inches shorter than me, slim, with a fine-boned appearance that seemed like it would require constant care. At six feet and nearly two hundred pounds I towered over him, my face scarred and stubbled where his appeared smooth, my hands hard and calloused while he could have just returned from a manicure. Despite my superior size, his prescence dominated, for he radiated calm and knowledge. He crooked a hand, a gesture which plainly stated "follow me", and walked down the corridor.

I followed close behind, afraid of getting lost in the massive building. We travelled along a wide and spacious hall which stretched as far as the eye could see. Thick, lush rugs carpeted the polished stone floor at odd intervals, their bright colors matching the paintings and porcelain vases evenly spaced along the walls. I imagined the corridor as a main artery, for many smaller hallways branched off, looking like veins in some supreme being. Torches blazed in wall sockets, providing a hot dancing light that glimmered on the brass knobs of so many doors. Oh yes, there were doors. At first just a few, but as we moved deeper towards what I could only assume was the heart of the Citadel, they began to grow thick in the walls. Most of them looked the same, but a different energy seemed to pulse from each. With a few hurried steps I caught up to the monk and strode alongside him.

"Where are we going?" A stupid question, but I could think of nothing else to say. I wanted to fight someone, not spend hours pacing through an ancient building.

"You return rather quickly, requesting a challenge. I think I have just the thing for you. Something to truly test your abilities."
"But why do we have to go past so many--"

The monk stopped abruptly, catching me off guard. I continued on a few paces before noticing he was no longer with me. Turning back, I saw him indicating one of the doors. It appeared much like the others, but the energy flowing through its rough oak timbers seemed to call out, not in summons, but in need. "I guess that means this room is vacant."

"Have you healed your inner wounds since we last met? If not, I'm afraid this battle will not bring you enlightenment."

I tried not to roll my eyes. It was such a typical thing for a monk to say. The "inner wound" he referred to was my haunted childhood. I had been no stranger to abuse until around my seventeenth birthday. In my last Citadel battle, a fireball had scorched my back, calling up painful memories of my father burning my thin, boyish arms with cigarettes. Remembering that now caused me no pain, no regret... just nothing. I pushed the memory aside anyhow. It seemed like the monk could read my mind.

"My inner wounds are fine, thanks. How do you do that? How do you know what I'm thinking?" A small smile played across his smooth features.
"When you look hard enough, many things can be seen by human eyes."
"Well... could you teach me how?"

For the first time ever, I saw the slight monk hesitate. He seemed uncertain, but the sparkle of mystery quickly returned to his eyes.

"If you defeat your opponent today, I will teach you some things which may, as you might put it..." he squinted at me momentarily. "Blow your mind."

I shook my head, chuckling. It certainly was something I would say, and I wondered how the monk had pulled the phrase out of my head. “ I'll know soon enough,” I thought quietly.

"Only if you overcome your opponent," The monk responded to my thoughts. "And this will not be easy for you. I suggest you pull no punches today. Fight dirty in any way you can, and--"

"Yeah yeah, yeah," I responded, then twisted the knob and stepped over the threshold.

Rain fell like a shredded curtain, misting into objects below. It was a light drizzle at best, but incessant and bone-drenching. Through the haze caused by falling water I could see a steep hill stretching before me. Long grass, at least a metre high covered it like fur on some giant dormant creature, and when the wind blew, the creature breathed, the fur billowing in a different direction each time. I trekked forwards, mud clinging to the bottom of my shoes. The hill rose at a sharp angle, but hidden in the long grass I stumbled upon the ruins of ancient stone steps. They crumbled, decrepit and overgrown. In some places entire steps seemed to me missing, while in others the age-worn stone had simply turned to dust. Using the stairs when I could, I soon crested the hill.

A shrine stood at the top, perhaps to the Thaynes, but definitely a place of worship. Thin shale rock, clearly brought there as a makeshift floor, covered the entire hilltop. Over time these rocks too had crumbled, weather worn and blasted by the elements. Jagged holes gaped like starving mouths, water flowing through them, nourishing the ground below. In the centre of the platform a stone idol stood, the figure of a person, but it was featureless, all detail eroded by the rain and wind. It was even difficult to tell which way the faceless god was looking.

With a quick jump I was up on the pedestal alongside the idol, surveying the surrounding area. Beyond the grass covered hill, a vast jungle reigned. Unfamiliar trees with rubbery leaves stretched upwards at odd angles, growing however nature allowed. Clawing bushes and strangulating vines swayed in the shifting wind, beckoning me to be lost in their confines. The jungle looked impenetrable; to travel through it would be nearly impossible. The dense vegetation suddenly took on new meaning to me; a strategic place to wait. I hopped of the pedestal and headed back down the hill, leaving the faceless god to enjoy his rain washed kingdom.

One step into the tree line, and the hill was nearly out of sight. A veritable curtain of flanged leaves and draping vines blocked my view. I crouched down between a thick tree and adjacent thorny bush, leaning my shoulder against the broad trunk. The rain continued, but it was tepid, the temperature barely discernable from that of the warm air. I was comfortable enough, drenched to the bone and breathing the smells of the jungle. The plant life exuded a multitude of foreign scents, each as fitting to the location as the next. Together they formed a heady elixir which kept me alert and ready, waiting for a sign of my opponent. I heeded the monk’s warning well; if at all possible, I intended to take my enemy by surprise, to win the teaching of the monks of Ai’Bron.

[Solomon]

“Solomon?” The voice called to him from the other side of the door. “Sir, is everything alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Just a moment please.” Solomon answered, his breath coming back to him and his stomach settling. He looked into the mirror that hung over the smooth stone basin in the Citadel’s restroom. The light that came in through the distorted windows illuminated his white face in the smooth oval that hung frameless before him. The lines of cold water replaced the dabs of sweat that had seized his forehead in his fever, but his hands still trembled slightly. The worst of it was gone, and thank the gods it was a private bathroom, for the stench and the sound would have turned ogres a different colour.

“Alright…” The monk continued from outside the door. “We have found a challenger for you. A fist fighter, as you said you’d prefer. I know this man, he shouldn’t disappoint.”

“Thank you.” Solomon said, cupping another handful of the spring water and throwing it up on his face. The impact almost felt like breaking a slab of ice over his face the springs in the citadel were so cold. The shiver continued on through his body, and his face no longer felt so hot. He had drank nearly a gallon of the fresh water to help dilute whatever was left in his stomach, a trick he had used only a couple times in his life but it seemed to work nonetheless. It helped the body process everything in smaller amounts, but it left you feeling bloated for a while afterwards. However, it was a fitting compromise to a fever. A few more minutes should leave him in fighting condition.

“I’ll be right there, thank you very much.” Solomon said to the doorway, this time in his firm and regular tone of voice. Catching another glimpse of himself in the mirror he could help but see a smirk in his reflection. Another one of life’s little lessons to add to his journal.

Cheap beef. You get what you pay for

After just a few moments, cranking all the windows open and letting the fresh country air inside, Solomon left the restroom and quickly made his way back to the lobby where the monk was probably waiting. By the time he arrived there he was dealing with a couple other fighters, and could only spare the moment to point him down the hallway and quickly tell him the turns. Once he had an idea of where to go he nodded his thanks and dashed off down the hallway as one of the more brutal looking fighters had started sniffing the air.

He was quick to get to the doorway, running so that the smell would eventually stop following him. Fortunately the corridors were mostly vacant and he found the door without getting any other disturbing looks. He opened it up, stepped inside, and forgot the world behind him.

The rain, although humid, was refreshing to him. The winds that carried it were as pleasant as a warm meal to a starving man. A pleasured sigh escaped him as he stood at the foot of the hill and embraced the new atmosphere, and in this moment of calm his senses began to wander the realm and suddenly alerted him of a man a little ways beyond the hilltop.
He took a few moments more, focussing and loosening up his limbs. He had decided to come back to the citadel and focus himself on his training. He had really been letting himself go lately, ignoring training and moping around in his own thoughts. He had stopped trying to see what his body could do, and the limits he could overcome. Now he wanted to get back to those days. He had learned while he was out in this world that there wasn’t much else he could do if he wanted to fulfil himself. Combat was something his body was designed for, and the better he could become the more he could do. Of course, what he could do was still a little cloudy, but he was wiling to bet that new opportunities and ideas would come as he progressed. He didn’t want to over think it though, because that’s what had him so depressed in the first place.

He passed into the old mass of stones and strode fiercely over the cracked and haphazard floor. His boots making a wet ‘thwap’ sound as they broke through the little puddles and streams that ran along the old crevices and around the figure in the middle. In his mind he could feel the figure in the near distance, and so he put on his fighting face and strode off down in the hill in pace he hoped would be a little intimidating.

“You may not know it, but I know where you- SONOFA-”

There was a slick whistling noise as his hurried boot skidded right over the went grass and all two-hundred and nineteen pounds of him came crashing down. With a grunt he landed the fall, but he had disappeared completely into the grass.

“Brilliant…” He muttered to himself, looking at the muck that had gathered along his hands and sleeves. “Absolutely, right-friggen’ brilliant!”

[Breaker]

My muscles had just begun to tighten up when a man appeared on the hilltop.

From the distance, I had trouble making out many details. He looked about my height but with a little more muscle mass. He moved with an easy grace I recognized well. Once a man has trained extensively in martial arts he develops a secure sense of body and movement. The man on the hilltop demonstrated a perfect example of this, and then he slipped and fell.

"How unusual," I thought, "A clumsy warrior."

While watching the Xry traverse the plateau I soldier-crawled through the grass, moving only when the wind disturbed the vegetation's stillness. I stalked in a wide arc like a shark approaching its prey. I crouched several metres to the bulky man's right as he slipped over the stones. A telltale fountain of mud flew into the air, marking his location like a flare in the night.

Supporting my weight across three limbs, I reached to the back of my belt and drew a long azure bayonet, gripping it right-handed. The rain shifted direction momentarily as a breeze sprang up, and crept forward once more, nearing my opponent's location. The light drizzle did not prove strong enough to wash the dark khaki colored mud from my face and forearms. Combined with my black clothing the mud made a first-rate camouflage. My grip tightened on the knife hilt. It would be a quick kill.

The monk suggested I pull no punches, and I decided to do just that. As the grass waved I crept a few feet closer to the prey.

[Solomon]

Pushing himself off the ground Solomon continued his muttering. Whoever was in here with him probably thought he was a circus clown. Mistakenly he wasn't as concerned with his opponent as he should have been. After displaying such clumsiness it felt like he had killed the tension of the on coming fight. He half expected to see his hiding opponent show himself, and then they'd introduce themselves before the fray. However, as Solomon brushed himself clean he could feel the quiet, and eager energy of his foe creeping up on him from the right.

Little guy's hungry for war... Solomon watched the area from where the man prowled. He could feel his stored up energy all the better while the man came closer to him, which is what told him his opponent was a 'little guy.' He hadn't gotten a visual of him, but from what he could sense his own energy had more depth than this man's did.

Solomon wasn't one for being snuck up on. Replanting his feet and assuming his strong stance once again he flexed his muscles, channelling his energy, and sent a blue beam out of his eyes. He wasn't aiming for the prowling man, but instead wanted to flush him out of hiding. It was no use trying to use stealth. Solomon felt he should know that. However, he felt averse to using his energy beams at the moment. He wanted to test his muscle, and use his energy for that. There was no need to blow the man away.

[Breaker]

My sensitive ears picked up the lows sound of the target muttering to himself. A wolf-like smile appeared on my face, white teeth grinning through the mess of muddy camouflage. "He's completely unaware. Why doesn't he just wave his arms and shout for me." After a moment's pause I stuck the bayonet back in its sheathe. I needed to get closer. I moved on my elbows and knees, my body centimetres from the ground. "If I take him by surprise, I can finish it as quickly with my hands better than most can with a blade." Deadly bare-handed attacks played in my head like an assassin's training film. "Yes, I decided, "A good, clean kill."

Blue energy blasted through the grass. My trained instincts reacted before I could even think.

"Danger!"

I rolled away from the pulsing blue light, scraping my elbow on a rock. The pain brought me back from escape mode, one question filling my mind.

"Did he see me? -- Impossible!"

Somehow, beyond my understanding, the man had been aware of my presence. The monk's warning came back to haunt me. Harshly, I shoved doubtful thoughts out of my mind. I had been spotted, and that left nothing but all-out attack.

I exploded out of hiding like a sprinter off the block, stepping high to avoid tripping in the mud. I took two powerful steps before launching myself straight at the enemy. My arms reached, aiming to wrap around his neck. My legs splayed, looking for a sweep trip. If my momentum or one of my legs could bring the enemy to the ground, I would have him right where I wanted him.

[Solomon]

He felt a little guilty, but he couldn't hide his grin when he saw his hidden challenger flittering through the grass like a hunted fox. He didn't want to play dirty, but he couldn't forget that the both of them were here to fight. It would be rude if he was to chase him around with his energy beams and then stand there chuckling at him. He definitely didn't like it when opponents did that to him; images of Luc Kraus suddenly returning to him, floating there in power while Solomon drowned in the waters below.

The memory seemed to spark a bit of his old anger. Without knowing it, his plain face became a little harder, and his fists balled at his sides. He let the though drift away, putting his concentration on this new man. Fighting him would make him stronger, make him more aware of what he could do. Then when the day came that he had finally mastered all of his powers he could go back and finish the mage. He could do anything he wanted.

The warrior sprung up from the tall grass, covered in filth and eyes that yearned for the kill. Solomon stayed in his stance as the man leaped out with his hands outstretched. Was he going to try and choke him?

The answer came quickly. Solomon had chosen to stand his ground and prove his muscle over his reflexes. The man landed practically on his chest, and his tight, fiery arms began wringing his neck. At first Solomon thought nothing of it, and noticed his legs had been locked by an intruding foot from his new adversary. He tucked his chin down, as always, and thought of the best way to maim the foe.

That's when it hit him. It all happened in less than a second. He was so used to his body's defensive strength that most physical attacks didn't worry him. This was his mistake.

What the- !?! Solomon immediately felt his neck whining under the super-vice strength in the young man's arms. Immediately he struck, hard and fast, anything to get the man off of his air. His fists, one knuckle extended higher on each, pulled back and beat into his exposed ribcage as hard and fast as he could possibly do.

This guy was strong. No one had ever taken him down like this before. No one!

[Breaker]

I managed to get my arms wrapped, the blade of my right pressing into his throat. But the stocky fighter balanced well, stopping my momentum from carrying us to the ground. I pushed forward, trying to drive him back, my feet slipping in the mud. Then he struck.

I clenched my powerful abdominals against the onslaught, feeling my ribs begin to give despite the sinewy muscle protecting them. Although I spent most of my time fighting and training to fight, I wasn't used to having a powerful foe pounding at my ribcage. I gritted my teeth, taking the damage. The choke wasn't working, I couldn't get enough leverage. "I need to take this fight to the ground," I thought, "He won't be able to punch so hard once he's on his back."

Stomping my feet a few times, I managed to find solid purchase in the mud. "One quick burst of energy," I comforted myself as the enemy pounded the air from my lungs. "Give it one good shot and you'll put him down."

Like a striking viper I reared back then snapped my head forward, aiming the crown of my forehead for my opponent's unprotected nose. If the blow landed squarely it could shatter the bone, but I intended it as a distraction more than anything else. As I finished the headbutt I surged forward with all my strenght, pushing off hard to drive the other fighter backwards. As I did so I reached around with my right leg, trying to hook the back of his left knee. If the combined momentum and trip could bring the big fellow down, I would be on top in an advantageous position.

[Solomon]

A snarl ripped on his breath, charging his fists in and out of his foe's exposed torso. He could feel the grip weakening but not enough to pry the little leech off him. It was enough to keep him from popping his head off, like the cork of a champagne bottle, but other than that it was no good. He needed a new strategy.

His brain raced, thinking back to all that he had learned. It had been so long since he had actually fought a hand to hand battle. The moment his opponents felt his strength, or saw their punches bounce back off him the battles always changed. He was weaving around swords, diving past arrows, or blasting opponents away with energy. He hadn't been grappling since he stormed the thieves den, but even that was short lived. Besides that he hadn't practised the manoeuvres since his training days. They were all still there, but when faced with such an aggressive opponent he couldn't find the right move to execute. The guy was always moving.

Time wasn't in his favour though. He pulled his fists back for one last blow, if it didn't stop him it would distract him. A basic wisdom that any fist fighter would know. He could feel the leg in the back of his knee. It was taking shots at his balance, and as the man forced himself into his chest Solomon could feel his balance beginning to crumble. He suddenly had an idea. The hill was in his favour, slanting down behind him. If he fell back into a roll he could fling this guy off him, all he'd have to do was bring his knees up into the space he left between their abdomens. It should work, there was a chance he could counter it, but right now it was all he could think to do.

Solomon grabbed onto the man's muddy clothing, and prepared to fall back. That's when it hit him. His chin was still down, protecting his precious neck, but even as he began to move his face was still exposed. His adversary pulled his head back and pounded his own skull into Solomon's face. There was a flash of pain. There wasn't a lot in this world that could do so much damage so easily. It stung, and then his face went numb. Then the feeling that came over him after spilled bad news for his foe.

He could feel the flare in his eyes as the pain twanged. His face felt cold on the surface, and warm with blood just below it. Another growl, this time far more intense, and far more fearsome ripped through his struggling windpipe. He whipped himself onto his back. His muscles pulsing with the brutal pain, fuelling his reflexes like gasoline on a fire. The man had leaped forwards at the same time, and only added to Solomon's counter strike.

Falling onto his back Solomon pulled his knees under the man's abdominal, and as they landed he flung his boots onto his thighs, and yanked up on his torso will all the power he had in him.

[Breaker]

"Damn it, pay attention to your surroundings Cronen! You're fighting like a godamn amateur."

The angry thought blazed in my mind as I flipped through the air, propelled by my own momentum and the enemy's wild strength. I landed on my shoulder in the mud and slid and rolled, wincing as my spine grated on sharp rocks. I sprang to my feet, breathing hard. The other fighter had thrown me nearly ten yards, the downhill slope supplementing my trajectory.

The monk had given me the challenge I wanted. I couldn't remember the last time I fought someone so close to my own strength and skill. "Not to mention that energy blast he used." I realized that I needed to change my tactics, to fight smart. Without a plan, I would lose the fight and the chance of being trained by the Ai'Bron monk. Crouched low, I took off through the long grass.

I ran like a leopard, low and fast, making a wide loop around the place where I had last seen my opponent. If not for the roots of the long grass the hill would have been a veritable mudslide, impossible to climb. The tall weeds held the land together, but it still made a slippery slope, and I found myself climbing on all fours. Before long, my furious energy brought me to the top of the hill. I leapt onto the rocky plateau and stepped carefully to the pedestal with the faceless idol. Keeping one hand on the weather worn statue I moved in a slow circle, trying to watch three hundred and sixty degrees at the same time.

"Choose the battleground when you can," I thought, building up my confidence, "Make him come to you. This rock is slippery and full of sharp-edged holes. If you stay calm and careful, maybe one of them will take a bite out of the big guy's leg."

I concentrated my hearing on signs of the enemy's approach; the grate of shifting rock, the liquid sound of a foot sliding in the mud, the whisper of grass being pushed aside. My eyes roved constantly, searching for a sign of motion. The long weeds swayed in the occasional breeze, but for the most part stood still in the steady drizzle. I guessed that my first warning of my opponent's approach would be grass swaying without any wind.

"This guy is a good fighter, but he doesn't seem too stealthy."

[Solomon]

His feet crushed the mud below him as he thrust himself back up. His eyes fixed on his opponent, glaring at him and huffing through tight teeth as the man came skidding to a stop somewhere down below him. He had conjured up the strength to get rid of him, but never in his life had he been damaged like this from a physical attack. He'd gone up against powerful magic before, and some very sharp blades as well. These things he knew would damage him and he was careful to avoid it. When this man leaped onto him he hadn't been expecting to be injured. In fact, in the back of his head he figured the other man would be unpleasantly surprised by what he could do. He couldn't let that happen again. He had to take this twice as seriously, because this man knew where to hit and then hit it hard.

"...If I have to use energy I will." He said to himself, bringing a hand up the side of his face. He wasn't sure if he meant it, but he was beginning to realize the severity of the situation. Sometimes he forgot the citadel was a battle ground and not just a sparing arena. People died here. They were reborn, but they fought hard and they fought to the death. If he wanted the victory he shouldn't limit himself. Not when it really came down to it.

His face was ruined. Bringing his hand back he saw just how much blood and mucus had been pouring from his nose in just the few moments he'd been standing there. He could feel the blood on his chin, but other than that the rest of his face had gone numb. The pain was much deeper than his face now. The man's face had damaged the front of his skull, he was sure of that. The pain went all the way to the bone.

He took a moment to center himself. The warrior challenging him had slipped off into the tall grass. Solomon could feel his presence scampering off up the hill towards the mound of stones on the top of the hill. Whoever he was, he seemed to fight like a soldier. Covering his clothes in his surroundings and disappearing into the grass to make his move. Unfortunately for him Solomon could find him anywhere in this place thanks to the eyes of life technique Rakiet had taught him over a year ago. Every living thing produced energy, and if you kept your mind open you could feel it as clear as the wind or the rain. He couldn't see to well because of the stone, but he could tell the soldier had stopped somewhere on the stoney hilltop. His energy sat quiet and still, likened to a cat waiting by a birdfeeder.

I've got strength enough Solomon began plotting. But he's got even more. If I can keep distance... how fast can I get around his punches?

He paused on that thought. He had always been faster than most of his opponents, but even then his agility wasn't the most impressive thing he had seen. It was better, but not the best. However, that was because he never really relied on it unless he was trying to escape something. Normally he either blasted his opponents away, or got in close enough to give them one good hit and knock them down. If he went in there focusing on the dodge instead of the attack then maybe he'd open up a weakness in the man's defences. That is, assuming the mysterious fighter didn't have any fast tricks of his own. Nevertheless, it was worth a shot.

Solomon started up the hill again. He wiped a handful of the crud off his face, leaving red droplets on his shoulder and sleeve. He moved quickly, leaning in and running practically on the sides of his feet to better get up the slope. The rain picked up a little more and the earth below wasn't easy to cling to. He was coming up to the top of the hill pretty quickly and he could feel his foe wasn't in any position to ambush him. Not from this distance anyway. However, he slowed down just as he came up to it. He didn't want to rely on just the one strategy, the thought that this guy might be even faster wasn't leaving him alone. As he came up to the hilltop he reached down and picked up two of the loose stones. Holding them in his hand, uncaring whether or not they were spotted, he entered the ruins and leaned one shoulder against an upturned slab of stone.

He said nothing, but instead looked at his opponent carefully.

[Breaker]

The force of the rain increased, dark clouds weeping at the sight of such violence tainting the shrine. My opponent made no effort to conceal his approach. He sprinted up the hill and I watched him all the way, seeing the grass shift at irregular intervals and catching the occasional glimpse of his bloodied face. He was a mess, gore pouring from his nose and covered in almost as much mud as me.

"That nose must be messing up his breathing, it looks busted pretty badly. If I can get close and press the action he might get tired."

I held onto the optimistic thought. Realistically, anyone as tough and quick as the stocky fighter would probably have endurance to match. Just the same, I stayed positive. Mentality could be as important as skills and strength in battle. If i started second guessing myself I'd end up in the mire.

As the fighter came closer I tensed up, ready to move. He carried two stones in his hand, a decent choice of improvised weaponry. I preferred my hands though, or if it came to it, the tools of death on the back of my belt. He ascended the pockmarked plateau like some horrific swamp creature, the hillside mud an integral part of him, the blood spattered visage making him look fearsome rather than wounded. Then he made a mistake.

I exploded. Heart pounding, legs pumping, feet high-stepping to avoid fissures I sprinted across the hilltop. The heavier man had leaned against a chunk of stone. It would take only a split second for him to regain proper balance, but a split second was all I needed to cross the plateau. "Pull no punches," the monk had told me. I figured I could reach the enemy before he had time to throw the stones. If I got lucky, he might even step backwards in surprise, maybe lose his footing. Nothing could be certain on the slippery, treacherous rock floor.

But I was certain. Certain that as soon as I reached him, I would finish what I had started before. And I would do it the right way... quickly and efficiently.

[Solomon]

It was like a flash of lightening. Solomon had tossed himself gently against the pillar, the rain draining through his hair and leaving warm, pungent streaks along his forehead. He had been expecting a lull, a moment of dialogue or even a stare down. He wasn't sure why now, looking back on his thinking, but since he didn't bother hiding Solomon had just expecting some sort of exchange. Perhaps this man wasn't here just for training, and didn't care about building yourself with an opponent. Maybe he was here to settle a score with someone else? Had he become a target for this young soldier's aggression?

The thoughts past through his mind so very quickly. He had to hand it to the lad though, he hadn't been expecting such a rush. There was a moment, the exact moment he realized his predicament, where his face turned white and his body felt flush. Immediately his instincts told him he was screwed. He didn't even have to think it through. Completely forgetting the stones in his hand his body took control and he didn't even realize what he had done until afterwards. If he hadn't been naturally quick the soldier would have ended him. If he could think of any reason why he did what he did, it would have been the fear of the soldier's muscle. He remembered how terrible the man's force could be and so the only thing that passed through his mind was to get out of the way of his fists. Get down!

He had fallen down to the ground against the pillar he had just leaned against. His knee had extended in the fraction of time it had taken the foe to close in on him, but he was only now clueing in to what he had done. His position wasn't fortified, and the man might try to kick his leg aside and bash him in the side. That is, assuming he hadn't dedicated everything into this dash and could pull aside before his momentum carried him into Solomon's extending boot.