The Arena

Death smiles

She charged, both her daggers in her hands, while her eyes were on Asendriel’s weapon. Its sharp edge was serrated, its deep dents making it look more like a torture device than a weapon. Evan a scratch from that could result in a serious wound. 

She swung her right dagger and panic struck her mind as she realised it went instinctively to his heart. Her body reacted mechanically. It knew it had a single purpose: kill and kill fast. She averted her aim at the last second, to Asendriel’s arm, praying he would avoid it and Baruing wouldn’t notice.

Asendriel avoided her easily, leaning slightly, but she couldn’t afford to look in Baruing’s direction. She struck again, with her left dagger, the sound of  metal on metal comforting her. Asendriel blocked her second attack with his wide sword. His weapon must’ve weighed pretty much, yet he didn’t seem to have problems wielding it.

Again, she looked at him, briefly. She wanted to see something, anything that could hint to a plan or even an idea that could get them out of this situation, but only coldness awaited her. His words of encouragement and the touch of his hand seemed far away and unreal. Like something she had dreamed of long ago.

Asendriel swinged hard, throwing her away a few feet. Alera almost fell on her back but, leaning in, managed to balance herself and just in time. It was Asendriel’s turn to attack and he did it without hesitation. He swinged again vertically, missing her shoulder by mere inches, but his blade didn’t even hit the ground before he attacked again.

Alera ducked and the blade whizzed above her head. She didn’t waste another second and jumped back a few steps, putting some distance between them. Her heart was pounding. He did it. He took a swing at her and it was full of killing intent. She realised she wasn’t even surprised. Why would she be? Afterall, it was every man for himself and she couldn’t blame him for this. She remembered her first months. It didn’t matter who it was in front of her, she did all she could in order to survive, so why would it be wrong for another to do the same?

She looked at him. He was strong. A lot stronger than her. She wondered if she had any chance of beating him. But more importantly, would she do it, if she could? And the answer came to her faster than she thought it would: no. She couldn’t bring herself to kill him, even if she had the chance.

A single solution popped into her head. She had to die. It was that simple. She dies, Asendriel lives. Her pitiful life in exchange for his. She had nothing, while he may still recover what he had left outside the arena. He was probably strong enough to escape. 

The choice even made her a bit happy and she allowed herself a small smile. For a second, she thought she saw a reaction in the blood elf’s look, but it must have been her imagination. But she couldn’t just spread her arms and embrace death. This could have repercussions on Asendriel. Baruing could do something to him. No, the fight needed to look real.

With that in mind, Alera took her fighting position and charged again. Asendriel was ready and swinging his sword, he missed her again. As his blade hit the ground in front of her, she jumped high, over him and, landing behind him, she threw one of her daggers directly at him. She aimed for his shoulder, but this time it hit.

It only scraped Asendriel, leaving a red horizontal line on his left shoulder. He didn’t have time to avoid it completely and even though the wound was shallow, blood started to flow slowly. 

Asendriel ignored his wound and, grabbing his sword, turned around and attacked Alera again. The blade came directly at her and she knew she had no chance to deflect it with only a dagger, but she put her hands up in a defensive stance anyway.

But luck seemed on her side, as Asendriel didn’t reach that far and only grazed her forearm. It stung as two or three dents bit her arm. She gripped her fist and a few drops of blood dripped from her wound.