Dragon Roar

Turning to face the assassin, Mataras took a ready stance. He sensed and saw the enemy dragons move away from the impending conflict.

The Delta Keeper spread his arms wide as if in invitation. “I invite the challenger to the first strike,” he said with mock politeness. In response, the black-garbed fighter mirrored his position.

Well okay then, Mataras thought to himself. Gathering his anger, the boy pointed his sword at his enemy and let loose an energy bolt that would break his ribs. The other boy swayed to the side and was almost killed by Mataras’ follow-up attack, a leaping thrust.

The assassin barely managed to deflect the longer blade and was totally unprepared for the following slash at his neck. He changed to his phantasmal mode and was instantly slammed by a mental attack. The sheer force of the blow to his consciousness was enough to make him revert back to a physical existence.

He staggered but refused to fall. The assassin quickly realized that he had severely underestimated his opponent. His main mistake had been in assuming that Mataras would not be able to move his sword just as quickly as he could move his katana. He had only ever encountered one other warrior capable of moving like that with such a blade.

Mataras wasn’t going to give him time to dwell on the past, though. Keeping his wrist movement light, he swung his sword in a deadly arc at the killer’s midsection. There was enough power to rend the boy’s body in half if the blow went home. The other fighter could see that from the way Mataras’ entire body was put into motion, starting from his legs into his body, into his arms. He couldn’t risk a parry, so he deflected the blow with his curved blade and leaped back.

Now Mataras grinned without any humor in his smile. “When your friends find your body the way I leave it, they’ll know not to come after my council,” he growled.

  The other Keeper looked puzzled for a moment, and Mataras wondered at it. Then the look passed and he replied, “My people need that gem, and we will do whatever we have to in order to collect the seven eyes of Omega. I’m sorry.”

Lashing out with a hyper-quick stab, the assassin went on the attack. Mataras was the one to be surprised now. His opponent may have been rattled by his obvious skill, but that didn’t stop him from regaining his own pattern. And now the angry Keeper realized that he was fighting an opponent that was just as skilled as was.

He realized this when he feinted at his opponent’s stomach again, but shifted his aim at the last second to try and cut at his thigh. It was a move that only required a slight shift in body posture, and most combatants never would have noticed it. But the mysterious assassin did, and shifted his katana to block the deadly blow.

I guess this is what I get for running my mouth, he thought sourly to himself. Pushing aside the distracting thought, Mataras began to fight like he was born into it. His sword was longer and heavier than his opponent’s, but he wielded it with deadly speed nonetheless. The power of his blows wore on the assassin’s arm, but he refused to give in. He had been trained in a hard school, and his sword was lighter than Mataras’. Even though the talented Dragon Keeper landed blow after blow, the other boy would not give in; his sword was too light to allow his arm to grow overtired, even with the crushing power behind Mataras’ strokes.

The pattern they followed was a simple one. They would stand off a few paces before they reengaged in a handful of blows, each time trying to gauge if the other was wearing down or changing their pattern.

Then Mataras did something the other boy had never had to encounter: he changed hands. He had always written with his right hand, so it was natural that Mataras would wield his weapons with that hand. The dark-dressed Keeper had seen that his enemy wielded his weapon in his right hand, so he had no idea that he could wield it with the other hand. It was almost unheard of for someone to be able to fight with a weapon in either one of his hands.

Mataras’ left wrist was slightly less flexible than his right, but he decided that the shock factor that would be inflicted on the other swordsman was a good trade-off. Whirling about, he moved in close, maneuvering so that the hem of his cloak slapped the other boy in the face. He quickly brought his pommel up for a reverse strike, but the other fighter leapt away with the speed of a panther.

Then Mataras was the one to be stunned. Mimicking his own sardonic grin, the assassin switched his sword hand to the left. Despite the killer’s outward appearance, he was unsettled. He knew Mataras was highly skilled by now, and he was confident in his own abilities, but he’d never fought left-handed to left-handed before.

Mataras’ thoughts were running along similar lines, but he refused to doubt that he could win. He saw that this pale boy possessed knowledge of the gem he carried, and he would not let this chance to obtain answers slip away from him. Lightly tossing his sword back to his right hand, he let out a raw-throated yell and charged.