The Dacabre Killings

 01 ~ karina

*Edited by deskdirectioner and howto_ *
Karina

The clashing of steel against steel echoed in the grassy arena as our swords connected. The boy in front of me looked no less than seventeen, only a year older than myself. Sweat swam down his face as his chest heaved in exhaustion, his gasps for air frequent.

A gust of wind embraced my hot, but relaxed face. Every one of my blocks were done with leisurely expertise. No signs of weariness captured my body—only exhilaration.

The boy approached me again, but this time he stumbled.

That was all I needed. It was my turn now. I ran towards him, attacking him with such force and speed that my opponent could barely return. It was only a matter of strikes and blows before he was knocked to the ground. The tip of my blade kissed his neck.

"Karina of Fayden! Winner of the fourteenth round and Champion of the Sword!" the General announced. A round of cheering and applause elicited from the mass of crowds surrounding us.

I held a hand down to the boy, helping him up before stalking back to my seat. A whole section in the first row in the rim of stone blocks had been reserved for the eight winners, me being the first.

I was anything but exuberant at my victory. I will admit, it was better than losing. The defeated were to be sold off as slaves, or if they were lucky, left to fend for themselves on the streets.

The winners of each weapon, however, were taking a gamble with their lives. They had to sail to Vordix, the first island in the Death Isles. The island that made your fears come alive.

"Fighters of the mace!" My eyes snapped up at the sound of the General's voice.

The flat meadow, vibrant with the green of grass, was lined with fourteen people, all with a mace, who faced the fourteen dummies in the middle of the circle the seats had made. This next winner would be my partner when I started my journey to Vordix. My gaze swept through the contestants. All men. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad.

"On my fire, you shall charge to the dummy in front of you! It is made of steel! The first to knock it over is declared the winner!" The General pointed the gun skywards before his finger snapped down on the trigger. The shot had been fired.

I surveyed the men as they charged, running and screaming incoherent words. One boy, however, caught my attention. He simply walked casually, as if he had all the time in the world. He was younger than all the rest, around eighteen. His hands ran through his black hair as he ignored the jeering calls of the crowd. He was tall, I'll give him that, but no muscles were apparent, and compared to the other men, the boy looked out of place.

I sat back in my stone seat, trying to get comfortable. This would be interesting. The sound of metal versus steel rang throughout the green hills that served as an arena. The other opponents began hacking away at their dummies, attempting to topple them by the sheer force of their maces. I shook my head. I would think at least one of them had a brain.

The boy finally reached his dummy, and stood there, surveying his target with interest.

I was wrong. Maybe one of them did have a brain.