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Kaxim, with his sab?r, extended and tipped up.
Killen dipped even lower with his weapon.
Without warning, Killen pounced and spun to the right. Kaxim dodged his lunge and came at him with his flurried attack, the more burly Krypós warrior pointing his sab?r towards Killen’s muscled thorax.
He twisted to the left and soared skyward.
Killen gazed down at the sanguine fluid dripping from the slice of skin Kaxim had taken from his chest.
‘First blood to the Commander!’ Kione called out.
The watching warriors bellowed as Killen studied his Krypós contender with wariness.
Kaxim whirled mid-air with a smirk on his face. ‘Does the kujaa yield?’
‘Never!’ Killen rasped.
An angry murmur arose from the troops.
‘A novice always yields when first blood is drawn,’ Kione advised.
‘I waive the precedent,’ Killen stated, swooping in. ‘I want the challenge to continue.’
All sound stilled.
Kaxim’s nostrils flared, but he jerked his chin. ‘One more round.’
Killen circled to the right, forced by Kaxim’s aerial speed.
Suddenly, images flowed from his hawkstone, not just visual but visceral, harkening to the soul. They were brutal and agonising, of wars that had passed and souls that had been ripped from their bodies in battle in this very same arena.
His unbidden reminiscing lost him time, and he only managed to dart to the away as Kaxim’s koya bore down on him and shredded in between the feathers of his wing.
Kíríga, keep your head on the mission. This is no time for daydreaming, Kaxim urged into his inner voice.
Killen shook his head, his silver hair flying about his crown.
He flung himself through the air, thrusting, stabbing and slashing.
Kaxim was, by far, the more trained of the pair. He blocked Killen’s blade with ease and poise, spinning around with such dizzying speed that he blurred against the sky.
He switched the sab?r from his right to left hand and, with no warning, flung it at Killen.
It skyrocketed as the Kíríga wheeled to evade it. Thinking he’d missed it, he pivoted mid-air and wheeled to a stop, torso heaving.
Only to see a blur race his way.
Time slowed as he gaped at the koya hurtling toward him. Twas the same that Kaxim had launched at the start of the bout.
It powered through the sky, and for a moment, Killen lost sight of it as its golden íkan trails hid its glitter in the sun’s rays.
It whistled toward the half-Katánian, and his eyes widened, knowing he’d no chance of evading it.
It aimed at his chest and screeched with speed as it hurtled forward.
Kaxim called out, and the bristling weapon reached a total standstill, barbed with íkan tendrils. Its edge touched Killen’s skin with a feather-light touch.
His heart almost launched out of his breastbone as he stared at the weapon.
