The Mages Burden

Chapter Three: Earth voice

Greg didn't have eyes on the back of his head, but with the ground under his feet whispering to him whenever someone got within a certain distance of him, he might as well have. Wasting no time, Greg immediately jumped to the side to evade whatever attack, if any, that came his way. With a quick pivot, Greg used the momentum of his turning body to swing at the bandit who had thought to get him from behind. His gladius, however, fell short as his assailant had already jumped backward after his failed attack. Given his quick reaction, Greg could tell he wasn't dealing with an amateur. Even the simple way the man held his dual daggers left him with the feeling of a viper baring its fangs, ready to strike.

Rather than just look at his opponent's eyes, Greg did his best to take in everything about him. From his posture, which foot he had toward, the angle at which he held the daggers in his hands, and so on. Greg even looked to see if the man was injured in some way that he could exploit. The pause in the battle was only about a second long which was about twice as long as Olivia usually allowed Greg in their sparring sessions so when they once again lunged at each other, Greg had a measure of the one before him. Even if someone remained completely still, some things were impossible to hide unless you were completely invisible.

The first was reach. The length of the man's arms along with the length of their weapon was all too clear to see. Greg was just an inch or two taller than his attack, with equally longer arms, not to mention that he had a short sword instead of a dagger. The advantage in reach was firmly on his side. No matter how hard the man swung or attacked, so long as Greg stayed outside of this man's reach, then short of throwing his weapons at Greg, he had no hope of touching, let alone harming him. Second was the state of the man's robes. The battle had only been going on for about half a minute this far. Still, many on both sides had already suffered several injuries, some fatal. And yet, this man's robes remained completely intact. Either he was exceedingly good at blocking, or, more likely, he was elusive as a ghost when fighting, preferring to evade rather than take an attack and counter with one of his own. Lastly was the fact that the man's blades were already red and dripping with blood. This wasn't someone who'd been slinking around the battle looking for someone to backstab. No, this man had come up against other guards already and had reaped their lives without coming to any harm. This was no greenhorn, Greg was looking at a veteran of the battlefield.

Greg could have easily tripped the man using the earth under him. Becoming too one-dimensional in combat, however, was also a danger in itself as it would render him predictable. Predictability in combat was just as bad as telling your enemy outright what you planned to do next. An elaborate form of suicide as far as Olivia was concerned. This was why Greg went for a head-on clash this time, relying on the longer reach of his gladius as opposed to the daggers his attacker held to gain an advantage.

Greg's assumption about the man being good at evasion proved to be the case as the man twisted out of the way of his strike. What Greg hadn't anticipated was that rather than pulling away as was the natural instinct for most, the man evaded by stepping forward inside of Greg's swing while pressing his attack. Had this been months before, Greg would probably have panicked at this turn of events. Months of being pitted against the fiend that was Olivia, however, left Greg calm even as his free hand rose to knock the bandit's first attack off course. He then turned his body sideways, narrowly missing the follow-up attack before sending a quick thrust of his own directly at the man's chest. Although more armored than the rest, Greg knew that center mass was the easiest target to reliably hit in a fight. Besides, with the ground under him as support, there was enough force behind each of his attacks that if any met their mark they would more than likely cause crippling damage.

This was a fight of two extremes. Like two berserkers, both of them remained in the infighting range, both sending and receiving attacks head-on without backing down. And yet, at the same time, both of them were like phantoms, as so far, neither had managed to land a solid hit on the other. A swipe to the throat, a punch aimed at the liver, a feint to the left only to go right, a jump back to avoid a stab before sending a quick repost at the bandit. Greg used every trick in his repertoire trying to gain an advantage. The bandit, however, seemed to have a preternatural instinct for how to avoid attacks. Even when Greg was certain that he'd finally gotten the man, he would find an unexpected way to evade the attack.

On his part, Greg was putting months of training with Olivia into practice in this fight. Greg was watching his opponent like a hawk. His positioning, how he tensed slightly when he was about to attack, where his eyes were pointing whenever he made any move, and so on. Greg could now understand why Olivia had insisted that he first condition his body before he even began training in this battle art. The demands it placed on his body were such that, had he been weaker, it would probably break down from the strain it was subjected to. Oftentimes, the gap between an unconscious tell by the bandit's body, and the attack the tell was warning of was only a tenth of a second. It was taking everything within Greg just to keep up with the bandit, which is why he knew he was losing this fight.

True, Greg had begun to pick up a thing or two from his familiar. At, present though, Greg was only just starting to get a grasp of the essence of this battle art. He, however, was yet to fully master it and make it uniquely his. Against run-of-the-mill opponents, Greg would be able to easily match them. But against someone seasoned like the fighter before him, he still fell short. This was why, despite having chosen not to use the earth step again in this fight, Greg wasn't left with an option when the bandit aimed a killing blow at his eye. Had the attack landed, the dagger would have gone through his eye and into his brain probably killing him immediately.