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!" He shook his head. "Not as clumsy as you look, big man that should teach me
to try and take advantage of a tyro." As Karl accepted his extended hand, he
brightened. "Although, now that I'm out of it, I might put down a coin or two
on you.
Think you can make it to the final round?"
Karl shrugged. "I think I might manage to do that."
"It gets harder from here on, you know." He walked away.
Karl counted the remaining contestants, as the losers walked off the field.
Sixty-two were left. One of the judges beckoned to Ohlmin and a beetle-browed
dwarf, giving them byes, as Karl squared off with his assigned opponent, a
tall elf, almost half again Karl's height. He was light-skinned and blond,
almost an albino. But not nearly as frail as he appeared; it took several
tiring minutes of sparring for Karl to work his way inside the other's guard
and smack the sword out of his opponent's hands.
Thirty-two left. Karl was paired off with the dwarf who had been given a bye
the previous round. The dwarf fought with a sword longer than Karl's, and with
physical strength much greater.
Fortunately, he was just a bit slower, and a sucker for a false opening.
Karl came out of that match limping. Before he'd been able to mark the dwarf
twice, the little bastard had connected with a wicked slash to Karl's right
knee.
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Sixteen left. Karl favored his injured knee as he limped over to the playing
area a judge indicated. This time, his opponent was a human, a long-haired,
smooth-shaven man who fought in a bizarre two-swords
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0-%20The%20Sleeping%20Dragon.txt style. It took a bit of time for Karl to
weave his sword in between the long slashing sword and the short parrying
one and it cost him another blow to his knee.
He ended that round with a stroke to the other's temple; the man dropped as
though he had been a puppet, his strings slashed.
As the harried slaves ran out to daub the remaining contestants off, Karl
forced himself to breathe slowly, shallowly. With a bit of luck, he would have
three rounds left and that goddamn Ohlmin hadn't even worked up a sweat. Karl
snatched the slave's rag. wiping the dripping sweat from his forehead, He set
his sword down for a moment and rubbed at his swollen knee. It would support
his weight, but just barely.
Eight contestants left. His opponent was a hulking creature, seemingly a
dwarf-human hybrid: He had the heavy brows, huge jaw, and oversize joints of a
dwarf, but he stood almost six feet tall, grinning with yellowed teeth as he
raised his sword in a mocking salute.
Too tired. I'm just too tired
. At the command to begin, Karl swept up sand with his bad leg; his opponent
ducked under the spray
right into Karl's stroke. The blow to the hybrid's jaw knocked him out of the
playing area, out of consciousness, and out of the competition.
Four. Facing an elf, Karl staggered under a preemptive slash, then barely
connected with a backhanded stroke that had been aimed at the elf's
midsection, but connected with his throat. Gasping for breath, the elf
stumbled into a pole, and then into Karl's winning stroke.
Karl turned to see Ohlmin grinning at him, from a playing area only a few
yards away. "Nicely done,"
Ohlmin called out. "But you're up against me, now. Care to concede, or don't
you believe in accepting fate?"
Easy he's just trying to bait you. to get you angry
. Possibly that was how the smaller man had won all of his matches without
working up a sweat? He certainly didn't look sturdy enough to wear his
opponents down. Could he be that good? "No," Karl said, forcing himself not to
pant. He drew himself up straight, not moving from his spot. No need to show
Ohlmin how badly he'd limp. "Why don't you come over here and persuade me,
little man
?"
A slave ran up with a dirty cloth; Karl snatched it to scrub at his knee,
making-sure that he rubbed more of the oily tar on it. Best to try to hide
from Ohlmin just how much the battered joint was swelling.
Karl dropped the rag to the sand. "I don't see you moving. Maybe you're not so
good with that stick after all."
Anger creased the other's dark face for a moment. "I wouldn't, if I were you."
Superior smile back in
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0-%20The%20Sleeping%20Dragon.txt place, Ohlmin walked over to Karl's playing
area, taking up a position at the far corner of the square.
"Wouldn't what?" Karl moved back a step, wincing at the pain shooting through
his leg. As it kept swelling, the pain got worse.
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Damn
.
"Wouldn't make it personal." Ohlmin's face grew somber; he shook his head
slowly. "The last one to make it a personal thing, well, he's chained to a
mill in Sciforth." He pinched his nostrils with the fingers of his free hand.
"By the nose." Ohlmin dropped his hand and smiled. "After I beat him on the
field." He stretched out his tar-covered wooden sword, the point almost
touching Karl's chest. "So don't make it personal."
Karl pushed the point away with his own sword. "Just "
Ohlmin slashed at Karl's right knee. Fiery pain shot through it, and Karl's
leg buckled beneath him. He fell to the sand.
"Foul!" Khoralt shouted, running up. "That is a foul!"
Ohlmin eyed him slyly, while Karl struggled back to his feel, his knee burning
as though it were on fire.
"My apologies." Ohlmin gave a quick bow. "I thought I had heard your command
to begin."
Khoralt hesitated for a moment, then shook his head and pointed toward the
exit. The crowd responded with a wave of hissing and shouting. The elf crossed
his arms across his chest. "As I was about to say" he gave Karl a sheepish
half-smile, probably the only apology Karl would get "I am tempted to
disqualify you. But that would be too harsh, since you made only a simple
mistake," he added quickly.
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