Free Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two by Brian S. Pratt Page A

his eyes off the ‘kerchief,
James directed it to where Tinok was slowly rotating the front
portion of his foot against the ground. “What…?”
    “Just watch.”
    When the yellow scarf lit on the
ground, Tinok exploded in a flurry of motion. His right foot kicked
outward sending a spray of dirt toward his opponent. Akron easily
ducked to the side and avoided a less than honorable attack that
could have left him blind and defenseless. Obviously, he was not to
be taken out so easily.
    Despite his size and the size of his
weapon, Akron moved lightning fast. The sword shot out in a
double-hand slice, forcing Tinok to dance backward. The blade
whisked by his chest with bare inches to spare.
    A “ting” sounded as Tinok’s left knife
struck the passing blade. As the blow knocked the blade two degrees
downward, his right knife shot forward and left a ribbon of red
across the big man’s chest.
    The crowd went crazy.
    “Yah!” Jiron shouted. Keeping his eyes
on the match, he leaned closer to James. “Whoever scores first most
always wins.”
    James nodded. “The psychological
effect must be devastating on such a big man.”
    “You got that right.”
    Breaking off, the two opponents
circled each other. Akron’s face registered rage barely kept in
check while Tinok remained cool and calculating.
    “He’s got him.”
    James glanced to Jiron in surprise.
“You can tell that from only one passage of arms?”
    “Not many can stand against a master
knifer. Where Tinok has only the one blade to contend with, Akron
has two. He may be good, but Tinok is better.”
    Not quite as sure as his erstwhile
companion, James worried for their friend. His heart leapt in his
throat as Akron went into a complex maneuver with his blade
practically singing as it cut the air.
    Tinok held his knives at the ready,
eyes on Akron’s. When the massive sword finally shot forward for
the kill, he twisted to the side and used both blades to catch the
sword. For a moment, the two fighters were locked in a struggle for
possession of the sword, but then Tinok’s foot shot out and
connected with the big man’s knee. The blow didn’t break the bone,
but it did cause him to lose his balance and stumble. Tinok was on
him in a flash. Before the man could right himself, blood flowed
from four new wounds; one on either arm, and on both
legs.
    The crowd went crazy. Such a thing was
rarely seen in the pit; where a fighter scored on all four
extremities simultaneously. He that performed the feat was praised,
the one it was done to was humiliated.
    Screaming an inarticulate cry of pure
rage, Akron rushed Tinok with a flurry of over-hand hacks and
slices that forced the smaller man back several feet. But Tinok
didn’t look worried. He merely bided his time.
    A glance across the Pit revealed that
Father Tullin had reached the side of the unmasked man from the
Empire. The priest was engaged in a conversation with a tall woman
wearing a swan-plumed mask; its feathers created a prominent arch
above each eye.
    A gasp from the crowd drew his
attention back to the fight. The big man had scored a blow. Blood
flowed from a horizontal slash across Tinok’s chest and the smaller
man was being pushed back toward the wall.
    “What happened?”
    Never taking his eyes from the fight,
Jiron replied, “Tinok got hit is what happened. Can’t expect to do
this and not suffer injury at some point.”
    “But I thought you said Tinok had this
guy.”
    “Just because you are the better
fighter doesn’t mean your opponent won’t score a lucky blow once in
a while.”
    Below, Tinok’s blades deflected aside
the larger man’s sword time and again. Almost having been pushed
back to the wall, Tinok altered his backward progression more
toward the center.
    Betting was furious throughout the
onlookers. Coins continuously passed hands with every strike. Those
who bet on Tinok tended to win more often.
    For a brief moment, the two men broke
apart, each taking this opportunity to