Free Mercenary Little Death Bringer by Catherine Banks Page B

that he was dropping his
left shoulder, something his father constantly nagged him about. I
watched for it again and then arched the spear up high and brought
it down to slice his shoulder.
    He grunted in pain and I almost smiled
victoriously. It was a good thing I hadn’t smiled because he swung
his spear low and knocked my legs out from under me. As I fell onto
my back I only had a moment to wonder if he would hold back and
then he was on top of me, trying to pin my arms with his legs. I
punched his thighs and stomach and tried to get out from under him,
but he was too strong.
    I growled in frustration and rolled over so
that my back was to him and when he leaned forward to grab my
shoulders I swung my head backwards, head butting him in the face.
He grunted in pain and fell backwards off of me. I spun around with
my throwing knife in hand to press it to his neck, but he already
had his knife out against my throat with a look of pure rage on his
face.
    We squatted in perfect silence with my
knife’s tip against the side of his neck and the side of his blade
against the front of my throat. Fear and sadness made me quiver as
we held our squatted poses. It would have made for a magnificent
painting had an artist been around.
    We had never fought like this before. He had
never come at me in anger before. I had never seen such cold eyes
directed at me.
    “Looks like it’s a draw,” Master Sean said
happily with a smile.
    Neither Favian nor I moved. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t look at his face. I couldn’t be angry or sad. I
couldn’t do anything, but shake in fear as my best friend held his
knife to my throat. Would this be what came of us? Would we end up
killing each other in the future?
    Slowly his knife was pulled away and so I
pulled mine away as well.
    “You’re bleeding,” Favian said in his normal
worried voice. He reached out towards me, but I backed away from
him, keeping my eyes downcast to avoid looking at anything but his
face. I pulled my shirt down to expose the wound as Master Sean
came towards us.
    Master Sean examined the wound and frowned at
me. “You should have told me you were injured after your fight with
Christopher. Go to the healing building.”
    “Have I passed the trial?” I asked as I
started walking out of the arena.
    “The Masters and I are going to discuss your
performance and I will let you know tomorrow,” Macon said as he
walked beside me towards the healing building. “You did well
though. I’m proud of you.”
    “Thank you, sir,” I said. I was truly happy
to receive such praise from Macon. It was a high honor.
    Macon pushed open the door and the healer, a
short man with thick glasses looked at me and smiled. “I figured ye
would be here soon. What did you make bleed this time?” I sat down
on the examination table and pulled my arm out of my shirt so he
could get a good look at the wound. He scoffed. “That little
scratch is what brought you in here? Usually you won’t come here
unless your arm is hanging out of the socket or cut in a billion
pieces.”
    “I was ordered to come here,” I said
quietly.
    “Ah, that explains it then.” He went to work
cleaning the wound and then started stitching it up. I hissed in
pain a few times, but managed to hold it in so as not to appear as
weak as I truly was. In truth I wanted to cry uncontrollably from
the pain of the stitches and the pain at the fight with Favian. I
felt alone and I didn’t like it at all.
    “All done,” he said. “Now go to bed.”
    “Yes, sir,” I said as I put my arm back in my
shirt and walked out of the healing building. Students were milling
about, trying to have a little bit of fun before we were ordered to
our quarters for the night. Some gave me thumbs up while others
glared at me. I ignored them all.
    Several of the other students congratulated
me or told me good job, but none of it mattered. I made it to my
dorm and stepped inside to find Favian sitting on my bed. I
immediately turned