Needing the Impossible (A Clato Fanfic)

Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

There are those who would see the fire as an extra hindrance in the form of light. I see it as a huge advantage. It snaps and crackles loudly, masking any noise we make as we approach. And as we draw nearer, our shadows blend with the dance of light and dark created by the flames. Finally, our target is in plain sight. Looking at the situation, I have no idea why I was at all worried. With Cato as backup, this is fool-proof. I think.

I'm reaching for a knife when I hear the Orsin move. My head snaps up, but he's only adding fuel to the fire. I relax, position the knife, and am almost ready to throw, when he speaks, “You kids should leave while you can.” I inhale sharply, giving away our position. No, the fire popped, he hadn't heard me. He hasn't moved at all. He's just sitting there, staring at the flames. But I need to calm down. If I keep making stupid, pointless noises, I'll never make it out alive.

I look at Cato and mouth one word, “Bluff?” He nods in agreement. There's no way he can know there's more than one of us, he's just assuming no one's stupid enough to come alone. Cato makes a motion which I take to mean he's circling around behind the target. At least, that's what I think he means. Where the hell did he learn to communicate? He's so peculiar sometimes. But I nod in acknowledgment, pretending like I understand. He winks and disappears into the shadows. Ugh. Why can't he just act normal. This isn't a damn field day. We could fucking die!

I turn my attention back to the man beside the fire. He still hasn't moved. Now what? Hearing him speak had made me realize exactly why I had been afraid before, and how utterly stupid this whole thing was. But that doesn't matter. I will prove myself.

He's my kill, so I have to make the first move, not Cato. I could throw a knife, but suppose he has some sort of armor on? Then I'll have given him a free weapon. That would suck. I shake my head, frustrated with myself for being so unsure. I can't afford to second-guess myself. I take a deep breath, secure my grip on the knife, and go for it. The throw is perfect, but he moves just as I'm releasing, so I miss the desired target, his neck. Even so, I get a solid hit in the middle of his chest. He grunts loudly in what can only be pain. I'm reaching for the second knife to finish him off when he starts laughing. Laughing? I look up and he's pulling the knife out. There's no blood. Oh shit. I was right about the armor. He stands up. “Is that the best you've got?” he challenges, and starts walking straight towards me.

I quickly replace the dagger in my hand with a longer blade, one better for fencing, but not trusting myself with the sword I've brought. I'm faster with daggers. He reaches me and takes a swipe at me with the dagger. His blade flashes white in the moonlight. I dodge left, putting myself between him and the fire. I now have an advantage, as far as lighting is concerned. He takes another swipe at me, the blade now flashing yellow in the firelight. A huge grin plasters across his face, and the fight begins. We dance around the fire, blades flashing and flames flickering, warping his features into a terrifying mask of sadistic pleasure.

As the match continues, it becomes clear he's an expert swordsman. The only reason I'm alive is because he's toying with me. Still, I drag up everything I can possibly remember from the afternoon's spar with Cato. I surprise myself with how much comes back to me. Adrenaline courses through me as I counter Orsin's attacks and make several swipes at him myself. I'm almost enjoying this. The thrill. The power. The surprising amount of skill I'm displaying. I briefly wonder if Cato's enjoying the show.

That stray thought, however, gives him the edge he needed, and I feel the knife slash through my right thigh. “Aargh!” I scream in pain. My free, left hand instinctively flies to the wound as he pauses to laugh at me. It comes back covered in blood. Resisting the urge to call for Cato, I take a slash at my attacker, my blood bowling with raw fury. Our dance resumes, but this time, I know I'm going to lose. My veins are coursing with adrenaline, but I'm loosing so much blood, and the pain...