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The Level

The Level

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Finally satisfied, Ben stood up and painstakingly started unstrapping his armor.

No longer weighed down by the bulky metal, Ben felt light and nimble. Some of his energy returned, and like a child he found himself parrying imaginary blows with his sword, the only piece of equipment that belonged to him. He stopped as he tired again, now turning his gaze to the sword itself. It was not a particularly impressive sword, as it had long ago lost most of its luster and Ben was certain the blade had dulled. Nostalgia was the primary reason his kept the sword, as it had once been his most trusted companion, and held many fond memories of better days.

As he stared at the blade the sandstone interior of the hospital ward melted around him to reveal a rolling green ocean that sloshed onto the beach where he stood and briefly covered his bare feet. The loud cry of gulls mingled with dirty jokes and curses from the fishers that crowded the beach line with nets, fishing rods, and harpoons. “Some things change,” Ben’s father would say with a laugh, “but the maturity of Catherby fishers never has.” Ben smiled at the memory and closed his eyes, breathing in the salty sea air of his hometown. He recognized the spot on the beach where he now stood: it was the spot where he had first gained recognition by defeating the local bully in a sword duel. He recalled now the adoring cheers of the other Catherby children, and in particular the sunny girl that watched him afar with admiration and love in her eyes.

His father whipped him thoroughly that night as well as locking the sword away for a time, but Ben had seen the pride glowing from his father. He had not been more than ten years old at the time, but that night set in motion events that haunted him to this day.

06-Mar-2013 04:26:02 - Last edited on 06-Mar-2013 15:10:26 by The Level

The Level

The Level

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“It needs a polish,” a voice said behind him. The sea, the beach, and the fishers vanished instantly. He was back in Al Kharid.

He turned around to face his speaker, finding a short, fat, bearded man in loose blue robes standing several feet away. A tall pointed hat covered his hairline. A magician, Ben thought wondrously. Generally the magic-practicing types chose to stay secluded in their many towers and guilds, away from the jealous gaze of the sovereign kingdoms. Behind him Ben spotted a young woman, dressed in the same garb as the wizard. His apprentice, he guessed.

Ben sheathed the sword quickly, covering his embarrassment at being caught in his game with a nervous cough. His efforts were apparently to no avail, as the wizard wore an amused smile and the girl hid her laugh.

“Can I help you?” Ben snapped irritably.

“Yes, of course,” said the wizard, his smile disappearing. “I am a messenger, and you have a message. You have been challenged.”

“To a duel?”

The Wizard chuckled. “We are in the Duel Arena after all, yes?” He briskly stepped forward and extended his hand in greeting. “The man you are to duel is preparing now, with the expectation that you will accept. Do you?”

Not very tactful, this wizard. Ben stared blankly at the hand, feeling offended at being so suddenly approached and intrigued at the same time. But a long day under the sun had drained him of his energy, and at that moment he felt even an amateur could defeat him. He also felt uncomfortable engaging in battle with a stranger of unknown talents and skill sets. So, Ben quietly declined and pushed past the magician.

06-Mar-2013 04:26:27

The Level

The Level

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“Perhaps a wager then?” tried the wizard, desperation creeping into his voice. Ben kept walking. “Very well. A one-sided wager. You pay nothing. If you beat my man, ten thousand gold coins in your pocket by tonight. If he beats you, we talk.” Ben stopped.

“No armor,” he said, turning around, feeling his resistance slip away.

"As you wish."

“Fine.” Without another word, Ben pulled his sword from its scabbard, and walked on towards the Arena. The two watched him go. When he disappeared from sight, the young woman snatched at the wizard’s robes.

“Zanafer!” she hissed. "We don’t have the money to pay half of that! What if he wins?”

“He won’t.”



Ben kicked at the sand in the Arena as he waited for his adversary to climb out of the entrance to the field. He felt like the sun was boiling him alive, further damaging his already sunburnt skin. Restlessly, Ben slashed random patterns into the ground with his sword, before brushing his sweat-matted hair out of his eyes and squinting against the sun at the two spectators.

They watched him intently from the raised viewing platform. He jokingly gave the pair a wave, and while the man remained stoic, the girl smiled and returned the gesture. Against the sun, all he could tell of her features was dark, shoulder-length hair. Ben noted that the girl stood in front of the magician in an apparently superior view position of the Arena, while the wizard deferentially stood slightly behind her and to the right. Interesting. So she wasn’t just an apprentice.

06-Mar-2013 04:27:01 - Last edited on 06-Mar-2013 15:28:06 by The Level

The Level

The Level

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The trap door opposite Ben opposite Ben clanged open and Ben got his first look at his opponent. What he saw was an athletic but pale-faced man with the cautious movements of a fighter that had been ambushed one too many times.

“Aaron,” he introduced himself shortly with a brisk handshake.

“Ben.” He eyed the blade that his adversary swung as he walked away. It looked sharpened—ready to kill. Ben closed his eyes, feeling his focus returning as the thrill of the fight began to enter his mind again, invigorated by the adrenaline that now flooded his veins.

Ben struck first, swinging his blade over his head in hope that unexpected aggression would gain him an advantage. Not so. Aaron smoothly rolled Ben’s blade harmlessly to the side, at the same time planting his fist squarely into Ben’s stomach with a dull thud. The blade came next, slicing with frightening speed towards a disabled opponent. Disengage, he thought, remembering the lessons of his youth. Disengage when the enemy holds the advantage!

He collapsed and pushed backwards into a roll, but not before warm blood flooded down his check where Aaron’s blade cleanly sliced flesh. He leapt to his feet, but Aaron already swung his sword again. As they fought their blades glinted in the sunlight so that it looked like they were battling with light rather than tangible objects.

“It’s pretty,” the girl remarked softly.

“Perhaps until the blood starts running,” the magician replied.

The fight continued without a change in fury or grace, but Ben knew he was weakening and his opponent knew it too. His parries were slower, his footwork sloppier, but all the while the blades flashed brilliantly. Then Aaron gave him his last chance.

06-Mar-2013 04:27:30 - Last edited on 06-Mar-2013 15:33:31 by The Level

The Level

The Level

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Aaron's left hand disengaged from the blade, switching towards Ben. A feint! Ben’s brain screamed. He refused to fall for the ploy, ignoring the trick and walloping the side of Aaron’s head with the broad of his blade. As Aaron staggered back, Ben flung his blade with all his might at the enemy and began running after it. Aaron managed to clumsily deflect the flying weapon but found himself on the ground soon anyway as Ben barreled into the surprised fighter. Ben quickly gained the advantage in the scuffle, and wrapped his hands threateningly around Aaron’s throat.

“Yield,” he growled. Aaron gave in response a gob of bloody saliva into Ben’s eyes, using the distraction to throw him off. Ben managed to seize Aaron’s sword before Aaron though, and now, no longer concerned with etiquette or safety, raised it to end the *****.

The girl looked away.

The magician allowed a slight smile.

Aaron held out his palm without a trace of worry in his features. A sparkling, whizzing disc of light grew from his outstretched hand, gathering intensity and speed. It bounced once, and then zipped towards Ben.

Ben’s sight abandoned him instantly, and he had the dizzying sensation that he was spinning around at a frightening speed. His sight slowly returned, revealing only a bright light surrounded by a blue so deep it hurt the eyes. He was on his back, he realized, but any effort to move aggravated the tremendous pressure in his head. He wondered if he was dying.

06-Mar-2013 04:27:56 - Last edited on 06-Mar-2013 15:38:42 by The Level

The Level

The Level

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“You hurt him.” A feminine voice reached his ears, but when he tried to clear the ringing in his head his hearing only further deadened. The conversation continued, but he could not discern any meaning.

Then the tremendous light from the sun was blocked by the young woman’s face, allowing him his first good look at her face. She was pale and attractive with a friendly expression that was highlighted by a pair of worried green eyes. His own eyes scanned her face, noting the lack of blemishes that indicated a mostly pampered lifestyle. Her lips moved but the sounds still could not reach his ears. She disappeared, and moments later his hearing hissed back into his ears.

“He looks better.”

“Good job, Elena.”

“Here, here, help him up.” He felt two strong hands grip his shoulders and heave him upwards.

“He doesn’t look so good,” the girl called Elena said, peering with concern into his face, which had taken on a distinctive greenish hue.

“Oh, God,” Ben groaned before he sank to his knees and retched violently.

“I’m not sure I used a strong enough healing spell,” Elena said nervously.

“After a concussion hex like that I doubt even Merlin could get rid of all the symptoms,” the wizard said cheerfully. "Get him up. See if he can walk. Let’s take him to the tavern.” He leaned down to look at Ben’s face. “A bet is a bet, after all.”

~ End Chapter II ~

06-Mar-2013 04:28:44 - Last edited on 06-Mar-2013 15:43:03 by The Level

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