A knock at the door roused The Mountain from his slumber. Light from the rising sun was only starting to brighten the room as he headed out into the main room of the suite and answered the door. Outside Firuz and Parviz awaited fresh and ready. “Good morning, The Mountain,” Firuz greeted him.
The Moutain grinned and then stifled a yawn. “Good morning, Firuz, Parviz! The sun is out! It should be a good day!” he added excitedly. “I need just a few minutes to get ready.”
“As you wish. We’ll wait for you here,” Firuz said and closed the door.
Inside The Mountain put on his armor, finding it had been cleaned and polished in his absence. His trident also had been polished and looked impressive. As he got himself ready he ate a quick breakfast and made sure he looked his best for the arena. Once he was certain that everything was in place including his champion’s chain he stepped out into the hall. As usual Firuz took point and Parviz followed behind The Mountain as they set off.
“Word of your fight with Shirin has spread,” Firuz commented as they exited the Palace and headed for the arena.
“Oh? Ok.” The three walked a bit further before The Mountain asked, “Does that mean there’s going to be an audience?”
Firuz laughed. “Indeed!”
The Mountain smiled. “Great! I love a good audience!”
They picked up the pace to a jog, allowing the three to warm up in the crisp morning air. They passed others who seemed headed for the arena who waved or cheered as the three passed. Firuz led him in through the long tunnel the gladiators entered by. As they got close, Firuz fell back, letting The Mountain lead the way. Feeling comfortable in his surroundings, The Mountain strode boldly down the rest of the tunnel and out onto the grounds of the arena.
Upon the arena floor were a couple of dozen other fighters warming up, practicing or fighting. Among them Shirin went through forms with her scimitar, a large shield strapped to her other arm. She wore Sicarite studded leather of exceptionally fine make. While well taken care of, it was clear it had seen many a fight before. Within the stands nearby were a couple hundred people already seated and watching the various bouts. Amongst the crowd were the distinctive white and gold of the Maghir, numbering at least a few dozen. As The Mountain scanned the crowds he noticed Arya, Vashti and Roshni chatting in a nearby balcony with a few others. Not far away from that group Ruana sat with a few others talking amiably. Ruana was quite animated, but it was impossible to determine what she was talking about given the distance and noise.
As The Mountain took in the crowd he thrust his trident into the air and in a commanding voice called, “I am…The Mountain. I have challenged Shirin of the Maghir to spar this day!” and he stared at the woman that would be his opponent. As his challenge rang out, a cheer went up among the crowd and even from among some of the other combatants.
Not to be outdone, Shirin slapped her scimitar against her shield ringing out a call of her own. As the noise of the crowd died down she answered The Mountain’s challenge. “I am Shirin of the Maghir. I accept The Mountain’s challenge!” The other combatants on the arena grounds withdrew to form a good sized circle near the stands where the crowd had gathered. Movement caught The Mountain’s eye and he noticed Firuz and Parviz shaking, most likely on a bet for the fight.
The Mountain and Shirin approached one another and once close, saluted. Shirin immediately dropped into a fighting stance, shield raised. He in turn kept his trident between the two of them. Shirin darted in and faded, moving quickly starting to probe his defenses and get a sense of his style. The Mountain simply turned to follow her movements, the advantage of reach on his side, especially with the longer weapon. As she continued to prod attempting to get him to bite at one of her feints it became clear just how fast she was. Nimble on her feet, precise in her movements and very aware of how far out he could threaten her with his weapon, Shirin demonstrated the depth of her training.
For his part, The Mountain lived up to his name, moving little and appearing stoic. As things started falling into a routine Shirin broke from her pattern, lunged forward shield high and went for his legs. As she started her lunge, he dove over her line of attack, rolled to his feet and struck at her back with a quick strike. His trident struck her shield as she twisted around each spinning to face the other. She smiled and nodded her appreciation for his actions and he grinned in return.
The sparring began in earnest now that the two were engaged with Shirin proving to be even faster of foot and of hand than she had shown, and The Mountain amazingly agile for such a large man. He seemed content to roll, twist and flip out of the way of her attacks, much to the entertainment of the crowd. His own strikes were precise, but she was rarely still there when they landed except perhaps with her shield. Minutes passed without either managing to land a clear blow. As The Mountain recovered from a high strike, Shirin found her opening and darted in. The Mountain’s trident intercepted, catching her blade between the prongs of his weapon and then he twisted it to grab the blade between the prongs. So unexpected was the maneuver that he was able to muscle the weapon out of her hand ending the current bout. The crowd roared their appreciation of a good fight.
The Mountain reached down, picked up her scimitar and handed it back to Shirin as she approached. “Well fought!” Shirin stated as she graciously accepted her weapon back.
“Thanks! You fought very well. It was a tough fight!” The Mountain returned, and she nodded accepting the compliment.
“How did you trap my blade with your trident? I’ve never seen it done before. Was this a gift from Larissa, or is this something you’ve learned?” Shirin inquired.
“Well, it’s something I’ve been working on. It’s hard,” The Mountain admitted. “If I keep working at it though, I can make it work. It’s a good trick!”
Shirin smiled. “It is indeed! Not something people will expect. Another bout?”
The Mountain smiled broadly. “Yes! This is fun!”
She laughed and returned to an appropriate starting distance. Both saluted and began their second bout. Shirin won that one and as they continued sparring they traded wins more often than not. After an hour of sparring The Mountain had gained only a single victory more than Shirin had. They were fairly evenly matched, his reach and strength balanced by her speed and nimbleness.
As they drank water to recover from the latest bout, The Mountain’s stomach rumbled much to Shirin’s amusement.
“Breakfast?” he inquired.
“That would be nice, yes.”
The two walked over to where Firuz and Parviz were chatting. As they approached Firuz addressed them, “You’re done? How about another bout? Seems unfair to not give Shirin a chance to even things up.”
“Firuz! You lost! Be gracious and accept it,” Parviz called with mock scorn before offering a wink to Shirin.
Shirin and The Mountain laughed, and the four headed out. The crowd milled in the stands, many moving for better views of other fights when it was clear this one wasn’t continuing. The trek back to the Palace was uneventful with the two combatants dissecting their sparring and offering critiques and compliments. Both were sweaty from the intense workout, though neither seemed to notice. As they arrived at the Palace, Firuz led them to a room where breakfast awaited them. After saluting both he closed the door, leaving them to their meal.
The two sat and dug into the various fruits, meats and other offerings. The first few minutes passed in silence until both had had enough to slow to a more sedate pace.
“You are really good!” The Mountain shared with exuberance and without a sense of surprise.
“Thank you.”
“What do you like to do when you’re not practicing?”
“Poetry for one – both reading and composing. I enjoy learning more about strategy and tactics and about various medicines. I’ve learned a lot about plants and their uses. It started out as wanting to know more about treating wounds and has grown from there. I spend time traveling through the Blessed Lands and am as familiar as most with its wonders and hazards. I’ve toyed with the idea of joining the Solider Saints at some point, but not sure that it’s something I want to spend my life doing.”
“What of you? Your understanding of combat and tactics seems more instinctive than trained, but it’s something you excel at. You were able to analyze and adjust to my changes in tactics and anticipate a number of my feints. You also didn’t tend to fall for the same trick more than once.”
He smiled. “I like to travel. And to help people.”
“Where have you been?”
“All over!” and he began a litancy of places ranging through most of the nearby nations. She asked questions about his travels, teasing out details from his memory of the people and occasionally the plants he had seen. He wound down a story of his travels into the Haina Empire and she looked at him curiously. “You have an excellent memory for details,” she noted.
The Mountain shrugged. “Good stories mean telling the good details,” he replied. “You mentioned liking poetry. Can you share some?”
Shirin nodded and considered for a moment before beginning.
“The earth reached up to the sky, and atop the massive rock lay the shattered remains of hopes and dreams of far too many to count.
Storm clouds hung low yet these were merely the ones from any plain, less forboding than many that had harried their crossing.
And so they ascended, carrying their own dreams through the switchbacks, and up to the broken gateway of the faded past.
The once grand city lay in ruins and neglect that whispered of dreams not lost, but sleeping.
In the once grand palace the Throne of Man waits, waits for the coming of an Imperium reborn.
Through times of nightmares and dreams one thing is certain - all must be ready.
For when the next Imperator rises the long watch will be over, the reins of duty passed on.
Dream well and take heed – nothing will be the same when the Second Imperium rises.”
Shirin concluded her poem, looking reflective.
“That was nice. It’s hard when you don’t know if you want to wake up from your dream, isn’t it?” he inquired.
She nodded. “Uncertainty is a part of life. The Maghir have awaited the rise of the next Imperium for long years. The Tomal Khan sees himself as a steward. What kind of life will it be once there is a new master in the house? Be careful what longings you offer to Larissa, there are many you may come to regret.”
The Mountain nodded. “You wrote it, didn’t you?”
Shirin smiled. “Yes.”
“Can you tell me more?”
At The Mountain’s request, Shirin shared more poems both of her own writing and that of others she respected. Some of the poems spoke of lands far away from the First City, bringing them back to their discussions of travels.
“Someday I will travel more,” she mused.
“Why not go now?”
Shirin shrugged. “My life is here.”
The Mountain nodded in understanding. Not long afterwards The Mountain stood and smiled at Shirin. “Thank you for the sparring and for breakfast. It was fun!” he noted.
“You’re welcome,” she replied also standing. He offered her a heartfelt salute and departed.
“To Vashti?” Firuz inquired once the door was shut and they had moved down the hall.
The Mountain shook his head. “To the bath. I need to clean up. Too much dirt and dust,” he added earnestly eliciting a quiet chuckle.
“Oh! And can you tell me what I’m supposed to do when I greet people? I don’t know the right words or gestures.”
“As you wish, The Mountain,” and off they went.
To be continued…
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