Dragkablod Rising Entwining flames

Chapter Eight

Ignatius

Every nerve in his body was ablaze. His fingers were sweaty as he drew his blade. Standing in the circle with the evening sun beating against his back with its fiery gaze made the reality of hundreds of eyes on him. That thought made the butterflies in his stomach flutter ever fiercer.

But it was the depthless gaze of Abellona that unnerved him even more than the hundreds of people watching. Not even the awaiting punishment if he should fail today from Ignacio frightened him. Abellona's tangerine eyes were looking at him and at the same time not. It was the look of a man who had seen many battles and was the last one standing at the end. A warrior that had lost more than comrades. A part of his soul lost with each battle.

Ignatius felt remorse for Abellona. How he had kept going after nearly four decades of serving as Warlord of the Pyri Clan and head commander of Pyrisa's army. Such dedication to a kingdom that was built on fighting and ruthlessness for monsters and humans.

He had become so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Abellona initiate the fight by starting a slow stalk towards him.

Ignatius set his blade in a defensive position and side-stalked Abellona in return. Each of them watching the other carefully, looking for an opening. Ignatius did not plan on giving Abellona one. Once he found one it would be nearly impossible to recover.

The observers in the stands must have grown restless due to their grumblings and shouts for them to fight.

Ignatius found it distracting and a nuisance. If they were being so boring then maybe they should be down here fighting a living legend and the most renowned Warlord in Pyrisa's history.

Then he felt it. A quick slash of air brushed against his cheek as he jumped to the side. That quick! He didn't know Abellona could be that quick. For a sixty-year-old man, Abellona still moved fairly well.

That sword came up at him again, fast as lightning but treacherous like an avalanche. Ignatius whipped his sword up, preparing for the impact. His teeth rattled in his skull. Abellona hit like a boulder all right, that part had definitely been true in the stories.

Ignatius dodged the next attack. He wasn't sure if he could take another attack like that. Abellona wasn't like Enya or Ignacio, not even Flint, who already hit hard like a boulder. He was a lethal weapon-given life. Quick and strong enough to outmaneuver and overpower any opponent. Now he could see exactly why Abellona was so illustrious. This strength and speed were unlike anything he had ever experienced. He now knew why so few ever lived after an encounter with Baskara Abellona. 

That longsword came arcing down at him. Throwing up his blade—regretfully—their swords met head-on. The collision sent all his bones jarring against one another. This was a mistake, a very very bad mistake. Yet, somehow Ignatius managed to stalemate Abellona's crushing sword above his head. His arms protested but his instincts to survive kicked in. Adrenaline pumped throughout his body, increasing his will to survive.

But there was something else that flashed through his body. It was a sensation he remembered from two weeks when Ignacio left him in the darkness of the cellar. It was that familiar burning feeling coursing through his veins as if someone took liquid fire and dumped it into his veins. Everywhere that liquid fire spread, his body seemed to become stronger, more resilient to the crushing weight of Abellona's blade. His body adapted well to this new power flowing throughout his veins. He wasn't sure what this but whatever it was it helped him before and maybe now too.

Abellona's blade pressed further against his. He swore he heard the blade groan from the continuous pressure. Knowing he had to pull away before any more damage occurred to his sword, he shoved up with all his strength and leaped back from Abellona.