“Never heard of you,” said the tall Swordsman, eyeing the smear of spittle staining his previously clean boot. “Begone before I—”
“Wichtig Lügner?” interrupted the shorter man, though were he not standing beside this towering moron, he would have been perfectly normal height. “I saw you fight Blutiger Affekt when I was a kid.” He examined Wichtig’s sorry state, eyes doubtful and maybe a little disappointed. “You were why I became a Swordsman. I heard you were dead.”
Wichtig grinned, warming to the work ahead even though, more than anything, he wanted to find a soft bed. “I was. I’ve returned to teach you what it is to be a real Swordsman.”
The tall man barked a harsh laugh of scorn. “Look at you. You can barely stand. You’ve been annoying and smelly and I’ve been patient. That’s at an end. Go away.”
Wichtig stumbled and only stopped himself from falling by grabbing one of the people gathered to watch the violence. Pushing himself upright he said, “Draw, coward. You, both of you. You’re a disappointment.” He spat again, and wondered why there was so much damned blood in it. “You’re children.”
The shorter Swordsman still eyed him with something torn between doubt and worship.
“Shildren?” said the tall Swordsman with an evil grin. He drew steel. The sword went on forever, took years to clear its scabbard. “What happened to your teeth, beggar? Someone knock them out for being a mouthy shite?”
Gods, with those arms and that sword he could stab someone in Neidrig. Wichtig resisted the urge to cover his mouth with the remains of his left hand. To do so would be to acknowledge the bastard scored a point. Instead, he grinned wide and proud. “Our scars are reminders of the mistakes we’ve made,” he said, remembering Bedeckt saying something similar. “You shall not live long enough to gather scars such as mine.”
“You’ve been gone a long time,” said the shorter swordsman. He sounded apologetic and that angered Wichtig more than the tall bastard’s mockery. “No one here has heard of you. You’ll die. There’s no way you can defeat both of us. Look at you. You look awful. I remember how handsome and perfect you were. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
The little shite is trying to undermine my confidence, Wichtig realized with a start. He’s afraid!
“That’s better,” said Wichtig. He felt the tension leak from his body, his pains fading. This was familiar ground. “A fine attempt at sowing seeds of doubt.” He dared a flamboyant bow, praying he wouldn’t topple to the ground. “But you made a mistake.”
The Swordsman looked confused. “Really?”
“Now everyone here knows you’ve heard of me.” Wichtig laughed. It was false humour, but sounded perfect. Confident. I am the Greatest Swordsman in the World not because of my skill with blades. This is where I excel. “Everyone knows you are afraid of me,” he said. “Everyone knows I’ve returned from the dead.” He leered at the crowd. “Why would I do that unless I had a destiny to fulfill? Are you so good with your swords you can defeat destiny?”
“Yes,” said the second Swordsman, drawing his sword.
Wichtig faced two men with drawn blades.
I’ve faced odds a thousand times worse than this and come away unscathed every time.
Why then was he so scared?
Wichtig’s left hand closed into an awkward and misshapen fist and he longed for his second sword. In truth, he only really carried two swords for the way it looked. He liked the symmetry they provided, peeking over his broad shoulders. He rarely drew the second sword.
It’d be damned useful now.
The two Swordsmen advanced. Wichtig retreated, circling away. When they scowled at each other, manoeuvring for position among themselves as much as they moved against him, Wichtig realized what he saw. They’ve never fought alongside someone before. Both Swordsmen wanted to kill Wichtig and they got in each other’s way.
Changing direction, he circled to put the shorter Swordsman between himself and the tall one. When the taller man snarled an annoyed insult at the shorter, Wichtig attacked in a mad flurry of stabs and slashes, forcing the closer man to desperately retreat and back into the man behind him. Wichtig killed the shorter man with a thrust to the throat the instant he was distracted by contact with the other.
The Swordsman went down, coughing and bubbling and clutching at his torn throat as if he might stop the blood pulsing from between his fingers.
The taller Swordsman shoved him aside, uncaring. He watched Wichtig, eyes measuring and unafraid. “He was only in my way,” he said, advancing.
“You can tell yourself—” Wichtig grunted in pain as his opponent’s sword stabbed into his left shoulder. Shite. I thought he was too far away for that.
Again Wichtig retreated, weaving a defensive web of steel. Knocking aside several attacks, he realized this was never going to work. The man was so far beyond Wichtig’s reach he had no chance of scoring a killing blow.