Free The Warrior (The Rebellion) by Jordan Magera Page A

like last time, the man was already pointing at the audience and twirling his spear impudently.
     
    Another man donned in red caught Bart's eye. He wielded a long staff that had two curved blades on either side. The staff itself seemed to be made of some sturdy material and was inlaid with strange runes and designs. Barst had never seen a weapon like it, and the owner also seemed to be an oddity. The man had shoulder length brown hair and an unusual skinny build for a fighter. His skin was a glowing pale, and his stance seemed to betray an attitude of confidence that bordered on mockery.
     
    "That's Orane," a man a window across shouted, pointing toward Eronde's team.
     
    "The one with the long hair?" Barst asked.
     
    The man shot Barst a surprised glance and nodded his assent "Aye, his blood is supposed to be a quarter elf. I saw him fight before. He made twenty Class-two warriors look like an insult."
     
    "A quarter elf?" Barst murmured to himself. The elves had become an extinct race about a hundred years ago. According to fable, elves had always been aloof so no one really knew much about them except rumors. It was said that the strongest human could not lift more than the weakest elf and that the elf's speed could only be matched with members of their own race. They were a race said to be born into magic, which gave them an aura of power. Their lifelines were rumored to last for human generations.
     
    Yet for all their advantages, the elves had one weakness. Their longevity made them unwilling to act. Slowly their race had died out as disasters and enemies took their land and lives while they refused to respond. No one really knew if the elves had actually died out, but none had been seen for decades so it had been the leading theory for their absence.
     
    There were supposed to be men who were part elf, but Barst had never seen one, and he had doubted their existence. If Orane was a quarter elf, he should have no problem dispatching all his opponents.
     
    The trumpets blared and the two teams charged at each other yelling war cries. Barst focused on Orane who sprinted ahead of his team with speed that had to be inhuman. His right arm, which carried his strange weapon, was stretched out behind him so that the end of the bottom blade scratched the dirt's surface. Right before colliding with the other team, he gracefully leapt into the air over the first ranks of the green tide and landed in front of the startled second row. The men started, which was their undoing as Orane sliced through them with his weapon at incredible speeds. The crowd roared their approval as they shot to their feet.
     
    As soon as Orane had dispatched everyone within his staff ’s range, he moved quickly to another group that he eliminated with equal swiftness. Orane's movement seemed rather feline, and Barst got the impression he glided rather than walked.
     
    Barst turned his attention to Throun. He was being attacked by three fighters, and had isolated himself from the rest of his team. His desperation could be seen even from the window, as he tried to hold his foes at bay with his spear. One of his antagonists slipped, and the big man lunged forward, skewering him with his spear. The other two men struck simultaneously and slashed at Throun’s chest. The man fell with a yell, and would have surely been finished if not for Orane, who seemed to come from nowhere. Orane swooped in and slashed the two men both in the back, and then took off before Throun had time to get up. Barst hit his hand against the windowsill in frustration; his team needed Eronde's team to die.
     
    Now the fight was almost over. A few of Moren's team banded together into what would become a last stand. Orane stood to the side and let the rest of his team rush in and overwhelm the small group with sheer numbers. Before any of Eronde's team started gloating, Barst turned away and went back the table where Frank was sitting.
     
    "Fight over that quickly?"
     
    Barst