The Fifth Academy - Fantasy Direction / #Wattys2018

Chapter seventeen. The fight

By Jason

We stood in front of each other, right in the middle of the vast square, paved with large stones. There was a huge magnificent temple behind his broad back. It was partly carved out of mountain's side and decorated with columns, thousands of engraved inscriptions and hundreds of the dead heroes' monuments. The main temple of the Horde was ancient, perhaps, even older than the city of Luxard.

The sun was rising slowly and lazily, as if it didn't want to look upon us that morning.

"Perfect place for the last battle!" I thought slightly shimmering from a fresh night breeze. I was soaked through after recently travelling via the water-portal, kindly arranged for me by the lake's sisters. They even didn't ask me twice where and why I was going. To the heart of the Misty Mountains, to the Heroes' square, to the main and well-known place of all the fire-tribes, to the short death or to the internal glory...

Behind my back stood the deepest and the most sacred orcs' well, from which I had emerged a few minutes ago. The ice-cold water refreshed my body and somehow poured the fire of my burning mind. I was ready to kill or to die any moment, and my foe, the big and mighty, was not glad and ready to see me at all. Yes, Drago wore the armor and had weapons, but his pace wasn't steady and his motions – precise. His pointed ears stuck out in different directions, golden rings and amulets were ringing softly with every move, and no tiger's skin covered his wide back.

Drago didn't wear his helmet, instead he had a very strange dejected expression on his rude gray-stony face. Was he afraid to fight me or did he still regret killing Max? Unfortunately, I was convincing myself in the first statement.

"He was sleeping soundlessly and now he is just annoyed to get up so early!" said the voice in my head. It made me mad with anger. Was that oaf so utterly sure that nobody would come to avenge Max?

"I am sorry! I am very sorry!" repeated Drago in a rough choking voice. I didn't pay the necessary attention, but, perhaps his blazing-blue tiger's eyes glistened with tears. He nervously licked one of the two sharp ivory-white fangs, which were protruding from behind his lower lip. The yang orc was still walking toward me, although his pace became more and more unsteady and slow. "I was sure that it was you! He was dressed like you, spoke and moved like you!"

"Watch whom you fight now!" cried I, quickly took the Paladin's helmet off my throbbing wet head and threw it on the ground. There was a sharp loud ringing, while the thing rolled on the stones. It was very brave and at the same time – very foolish. In this act I had lost almost all my protection, given me by the ancient magical forces. Never mind. I wanted everyone, even the stones of the main orc's square to remember my face. With the soft clank, I unsheathed the Paladin's sword, and its long polished blade instantly caught the morning sun.

"I don't want to fight you, Jason Firesteel!" said my foe loudly. As soon as I lifted my sword, among the thick temple's columns started to appear sturdy figures of orc. Solders, whose armor shone brightly in the gentle morning sun. Who told me, that my foe would come alone?

Drago lifted his right muscular arm; his people stopped and froze obediently at their places. I sighed with relief. They wouldn't interrupt even if we started to fight. Orc's huge burning electric-blue eyes met with mine and he almost begged. "Please! We need parley! Your death can gain nothing for Luxard and for Horde!"

"Mine death? May be yours!" interrupted I sharply, wishing to start a fight as soon as possible, it was pretty cold just to stand there and talk. "I have only two terms. First, I am taking the Princess Gabrielle with me from your stinky village! Second, you are going after Max and apologizing before him personally!"