The Dragon's Champion Read Free Page B

shouted.
    “You can’t yield ,
the duel hasn’t even started yet,” Master Orres growled.
    Erik could see
the anger clearly written on Orres’ face, but it did nothing to stop the pudgy
boy from waddling back to the crowd. Three more apprentices came out to the
designated dueling area and promptly threw down their swords as well. With each surrender Master Orres’ face grew redder and
redder.
    “Is there any
apprentice that is not afraid to fight?” Orres shouted as he kicked the
abandoned swords away.
    “I’ll fight
‘im,” someone yelled.
    A very tall
apprentice strode forward with his waster resting over his shoulder. The new
opponent stood head and shoulders above Erik. Erik knew the apprentice by
sight. It was Timon Cedreau. He was a tall third-year apprentice, and though he
was not yet as broad-shouldered as most of the fourth-years, he was a strong
young man with a reputation for being mean.
    “Ready
yourselves,” Orres instructed. Erik gripped his sword tightly and waited for
the signal. Timon kept his sword resting on his shoulder and let out a
belly-laugh.
    Orres gave the
signal.
    Timon rushed
forward and swung his sword at Erik’s side. Erik dropped his sword to deflect
the attack, but Timon was too strong. Timon drove into Erik’s side, despite the
block, pushing him a few feet to the right.
    “That’s it
Timon, squish him like a bug!” someone shouted from the crowd. This time, only
a few in the crowd laughed. Most of the spectators remained silent as they
watched.
    Erik defended
against an onslaught of heavy attacks. He made sure that he not only parried
with his sword, but also stepped out of the way. He couldn’t afford to take any
more heavy shots to the body this early on.
    Timon bore down
on Erik, pressing the attack. Erik dodged each swing and thrust of Timon’s
sword, ever watching for an opening to exploit. He struck out twice, but Timon
knocked his sword away both times.
    “You are not
good enough to challenge me,” Timon yelled. “You aren’t a true-blood like me.
You’re just the cast-away son of a poor beggar woman, adopted by an impotent
lord.”
    Something in Erik
snapped at the insult of his birth mother and adoptive father. His eyes
narrowed, his cheeks grew hot, and a well of rage sprang from within him too
strong to control. Erik ducked under Timon’s sword and unleashed a savage swing
to Timon’s left knee. The blow was enough to knock Timon off balance, but not
enough to topple the tall third-year apprentice. Erik jumped up and landed a
strike on Timon’s head. Timon back-pedaled and tried to straighten his helmet,
but Erik was all over him. Erik scored three heavy hits on Timon’s ribs, then
he struck Timon’s knee again. His next strike slammed right into Timon’s
sword-hand.
    Timon winced and
turned away. Erik came down hard on the back of his opponent’s head. The entire
crowd gasped in unison as Timon fell flat on his face.
    Erik didn’t
bother moving to help Timon back to his feet. He was too blinded by his
rage.  Before Erik could say anything, Master Orres was there.
    “Healers,” Orres
shouted in his thunderous voice. Orres removed Timon’s helmet, but made sure
not to disturb him too much. Erik watched Master Orres remove Timon’s leather
glove. Erik was stunned when he saw the hand was purple and red. It was already
swollen to twice its normal size.
    Master Lepkin
approached Erik and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “You are not an animal, you must be able to control your emotions at all
times.” Lepkin pointed to the trio of healers kneeling around Timon. “Imagine
what would have happened if you had attacked Hal the same way.”
    “I’m sorry,”
Erik offered. In his rage he had wanted to make Timon pay for his words, but
now he felt guilty. He did not revel or delight in Timon’s injury, in fact he
was ashamed. “I’m sorry,” Erik repeated. “I’ll do better.”
    The crowd
cheered as the healers helped Timon back to his feet.