The Fight
It was a warm day, one of those days that�s just a little too hot for comfort. Well, it�s about to get a whole lot hotter.
I look up at the canvas walls and ceiling of the tent that I�m in. The sounds of other fighters armoring up reaches my ears as the walls of the tent alternately flap and bell in the breeze. I slide my black fleece pants over my hips and secure the lacing on my combat boots. I let out an audible sigh and take a deep breath. It's been a while since I fought and I'm excited. You can do this girl, you're a good fighter in your own right, the guys are counting on you. I think to myself. Outside I hear the shuffling of feet and someone clears his throat respectfully.
�You in there Lovely?� A guttural male voice calls inquisitively. Unbidden, I smile a little at the name. Trust him to make my day. I think. He's called me that since day one and it still pleases me to hear it.
�Yes Mark, and I�m decent. You can come in.� I chuckled and the tent flap opens to admit my mentor Mark. He�s a big grizzled bear of a man with a mile-wide grin under a bushy gray mustache. He took me from barely knowing which end of a sword to hold to being able to take down guys three times my size. 'Amazing teacher' doesn't even begin to describe it.
�I brought you a shirt girly, are you ready to gear up?� He asks handing me a long sleeved T-shirt, which I pull over my head. I give him a grin that is pure gamine.
�You know me, Mark. Give me a stick and tell me who I�m taking out, and I�m on it!� He winks at me and walks out of the tent. I gather two handfuls of my wild red hair and secure it in a severe knot that should hold through the fight before following him out into the bright sunlight.
The rest of my guys are already armored up with the exception of helms. It seems that I am the last of the Hindscroft Hellhounds to get �dressed.� I hurry over to my armor chest and pop the latches. My blood is already starting to weave a melody around the rhythm that my heart is beating out. Out of my chest come my armor, legs, body, arms, gauntlets, and gorget. Without a second�s hesitation I strap on the legs over my thighs and shins and secure the thick leather weight belt around my waist. The body comes next and my arms thread through the leather straps that hold it tight to my shoulders. I adjust and buckle the straps making sure everything is tight and won't come loose in the coming whirlwind of melee. Now I am covered neck to knee in a shell of hard black plastic and leather.
I glance around at the milling mass of fighters attired in leather, plastic, and steel, carrying their swords and shields in each hand. As always it is a noisy boisterous affair with men and women clanking and clacking as they move around. Scooping up the twenty-pound stainless steel helmet and bucking it on, I make my way to a knot of fighters all wearing black surcoats with our Hellhound emblazoned on the front in red and gold. Kor, my partner in the upcoming bout, pats my shoulder and my blood heats up in anticipation of the fight.
�Are you ready m�girl?� At my nod he chuckles and adds. �Lets show them what it�s like to take us on!�
�Balls to the wall boys!� I hollar as Kor and I step onto the field amid the jeers and whistles of the other fighters. We move as one person, matching step for step. Our opponent is big; a six and a half foot monolith of sinew and muscle. Ooo�big boy hmm? I think as Kor and I step forward as one.
Our opponent grins and glances at me speculatively, probably wondering if this five foot two little spitfire knows what she�s gotten into. He holds his blades with a cocky familiarity and the look on his face behind the grid of the helm's mask tells me he anticipates an easy fight. Think it all you want baby, you'll learn different soon enough...I think rather smugly to myself.
I bring my mind out of the thought and focus on what's in front of me. Kor and I don't even need to look where the other is. We just know that the other will be there if we need them. Kor is my brother-in-arms and one of the best damn guys I've ever had the honor of fighting beside, and it's time to show this guy why.
I face him, no fear in my face but my reflexes are tingling, waiting for the call to commence the fight. My heart is pounding and my blood�s running like white water rapids beneath the surface of my skin. I�m hyperaware of everything. Our opponent gets into position and our guard comes up with an almost audible snap. For a moment; Silence.
"LAY ON!!" The marshal's booming call rings out into the air while the crowd holds thier collective breath.
Then the world erupts into a flurry of blows, ringing off our shields like trumpets. One! TWO! Kor and I drive him back like a well-oiled machine. The two of us mesh perfectly. STRIKE! Guard! STRIKE! Again and again, our opponent is driven back under the hammering blows.
Suddenly he realizes that he�s out-matched. I see it in his face. With a roar like a wounded bull he rushes me.Three-hundred and fifty pounds of black-armored Purpose barelling toward me at breakneck speed. I�m not quite quick enough to side step. He collides with me in a crushing cacophony of metal and plastic. I�m lifted off the ground by the sheer mass that batters into me. In less than a breath, I�m flat on my back staring at the sky.
Kor�s alone! Get up girl! I think frantically and jump back to my feet, shield up, sword poised. Now he's aroused my fighting instinct. I take stance, head down and rush him like a crazed wolverine. Too hungry to know she's physically outmatched, too crazy to back down. The whole world is narrowed down to two things; Target. Response.
I feel my blood singing in my veins, my muscles working punishingly. I see him start to turn, this great dark armored thing, trying to slow my headlong rush. I see Kor, arm extending out, sword whistling straight for our opponent�s head. I crash into the man�s side simultaneously as Kor�s blow lands with a voice like a thunderclap. The fighter drops and I go down in a tangle of armored arms and legs.
It�s over. We�ve won. Once more; Silence. Then the sound of the crowd�s cheers break over us like a wave as I roll to my feet and Kor and I step back offering our fallen opponent a hand. He takes it laughingly and gets to his feet. The three of us slap each other�s shoulders in congratulations. Then, Kor and I are surrounded by the rest of the Hellhounds, all of them whooping like sailors ogling a girl. And the pride reflected in their eyes and the smiles on their lips mirrors the pride in my heart. I let a small smile of my own cross my lips. We�ve won.