INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

MURTAGH, SON OF MORZAN

Murtagh ducked as a wooden axe skimmed over his head. He snarled, sending the point of his blade into the dark stomach of his attacker. The Beyonder gasped and fell over, Murtagh pulling his wooden sword backwards... and then landing a heavy blow on the crippled desert-dweller.

As he wheeled around in the sand, red blood smeared the russet training edge. Murtagh's green eyes sized up the rest of his enemies as he pulled a maroon scarf tighter around his bare neck. Dark-skinned youths slowly climbed towards him, various non-lethal weapons in their hands. verdant scarfs wrapped their necks, and behind them the massive walls of the arena curved, fading aurulent gleaming in the light of the heavy midday sun.

"We're outnumbered."

Murtagh glanced at his team mate, a light skinned youth from the lands beyond Surda. The boy had the traits of those people, thin aquiline nose, pouty lips, and shaggy red hair, albeit with skin that was olive in color, as opposed to the deep blackness of the people who marched the lands beyond Surda. He held his own wooden sword, waving the tip of it side to side before his face.

"I know that. We're going to have to work together if we're going to win, Zidda." Murtagh grunted and nodded his head forward.

The opposing team had stopped their advance, standing a few mere feet away from Murtagh and Zidda. The blazing fire in the sky beat down on their backs, and highlighted the various healed wounds that all of the boys bore. Scars were their way of life.

"Two against six. I like those odds." Zidda laughed and launched himself into battle. Murtagh swore and followed, his long hair tied in a ponytail that bounced against his neck. The boys against them reacted with trained speed, two of them standing their ground as the rest moved back to flank Murtagh and Zidda.

Zidda swept his sword downwards, separating the two boys who had meant to lock him in combat. One of them raised his blade, hoping to catch Zidda on the top of his head as Zidda brought his sword up from the sand. Murtagh saw the move, and threw his blade at the boy,  it flew through the air  hilt over point, hitting the Beyonder before Zidda was beaten by the flat end of the boy's sword.

Five to go.

Murtagh caught the second boy as he charged to attack, catching his blade arm and disarming him with a quick jab to the stomach. The boy lessened his grip on the handle, and Murtagh grabbed the sword-end, jabbing the hilt into the boy's eye, and pulling the blade free from his weak hands as the boy fell over, crying while  grabbing his wounded eye.

Zidda and Murtagh stood back to back as the remaining four Beyonders circled, silent with their dark, predatory eyes.

They all charged at once. Murtagh fell to the ground as a curving two-handed blow zipped past his head, and into the edge of Zidda's sword as he held it behind his back, kicking another attacking Beyonder in the face with his dusty sandal.
The boy that had attacked Murtagh recoiled, and Murtagh rose from the ground, his left hand filled with sand. He whipped it at the boy's eyes, the Beyonder swearing as he was blinded, swinging his blade frantically.

Murtagh danced around him and planted the flat end of his sword hard against the back of the boy's head.

Two more.

Zidda ran to confront one of the last opponents, his sword swinging around his body in Beyonder fashion as he ran, his blade met the other boy's, engaging in a twisting dance.

They blocked, parried, and evaded, causing the tired sand of the Arena to rise around them.

"Aoro, Bahani." The dark haired youth's ears followed the sound of the voice, until Murtagh settled his eyes on his opponent, a swarthy beyonder with bright red hair and dusky dark skin. His nose was pointed like a hawk's beak, and his thin lips were curled in a contemptuous smile.