If Tralagar said anything more, it was lost in the immediacy of Kre fighting for his life. Barry wasn’t going full tilt as far as Kre could tell. The strikes were precise, but always seemed to be pulled just shy of a decent hit.
Kre had felt Beleg hit with full force once at his own ignorant request, just to see what it felt like. The rest of the Red Feather Adventuring Company had immediately paused whatever it was they were doing at the time and came to watch. Beleg had taken a sturdy tree limb, about half as wide around as his wrist, and told Kre exactly where the strike would happen.
Minutes later, after Kre woke up to see the entire company circled around him, he realized just how outclassed he was by a fighter of Beleg’s caliber.
A fighter of Barry’s caliber.
It was just as apparent now as it was with Beleg. Barry was toying with him, drawing out his fear and despair. He attacked just well enough to show that Kre’s defenses, even as superb as they were given the enchanted blades, were not going to keep him from a killing blow if he so desired.
Though it felt like hours, Kre knew that they had only been sparring for less than a minute.
Sweat started to run down his forehead and into his eyes, yet with both hands dedicated to keeping himself alive, he had little chance to wipe it away and spare himself the stinging.
Barry had anticipated his plan to make for the exit and had expertly maneuvered Kre away and towards a corner. “I wonder,” Barry said in voice that oozed arrogance, “how much longer your little arms will last.” Another flick of the wrist saw Cormordean smash against the twin blade’s low parry. Kre felt that one echo down across his spine. Barry was starting to put some power behind the blows, but he still refused to follow through for the kill shots.
“I wonder how Beleg will feel when he returns to see your corpse,” Barry mused. He made a feint that caused Kre to stumble on an overturned cup. “Maybe I’ll make a scene of it,” he snickered, grinning cruelly. “With your kind of spirit, you might even still be alive long enough to say a few final words to that fat oaf. In fact, you should practice them now.”
“Barry is a sadistic freak,” Kre snarled, feeling anger welling up at being toyed with. “That seems like a fun thing to say.”
The next attack came so fast that Kre never saw it. In a single flash of silver and sparks, Kre found himself with only one sword in his off hand and a thin line of blood on his forearm.
“Whoops!” Barry laughed. “I guess I was too optimistic about your chances here.”
Kre stepped back and his foot hit the wall. He couldn’t feel the wound on his arm just yet, likely because of the adrenaline rushing through his body. He could see his second sword on the floor just behind Barry. He raised his remaining sword and brought it to the ready. Fear was no longer his dominant emotion.
Anger.
Determination.
Resolve.
These emotions started to bubble up from within him and he could hear the beating of his heart start to slow to a much calmer rate.
“What?” Barry muttered, seemingly taken aback by something new in the air. The large man took a hesitant step back, giving Kre some much needed breathing room.