The Warrior's Path by Karim Soliman

Author:Karim Soliman [Soliman, Karim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Limitless Publishing LLC
Published: 2017-10-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

MASOLON

“This is not possible!” Masolon exclaimed. What on earth was Ramel doing here?

Ramel took off his helm, revealing his well-shaved face. His presence here in this ring didn't make any sense.

“Why?” Masolon wondered.

“This is the duel you were looking for, isn't it?”

“What brought you here, Ramel?”

“You, Masolon. You brought us all here.”

Masolon's mind was in a twirl. “What happened to your fair price? Did you decide to give up your gold?”

Ramel kept his crooked smile.

“There was no bet in the first place, was there?”

“That's not true,” said Ramel. “The big bet is there, and I will get my gold. But no one said that the bet would be on you.”

The heat burnt Masolon's head. The bet was on Ramel?

“The idea of bringing you to this Contest was based on your low odds,” said Ramel. “You are still less renowned than Artony and Vaknus, and this makes betting on you more risky, hence more profitable. After second thoughts, I asked myself the same question you asked me before: why don't I participate in the Contest? What if I make one huge bet on the most unlikely winner of two unlikely finalists? You have no idea how much I'm going to earn today.”

“What about Artony and Vaknus? Why did they join this Contest?”

“Some distraction won't harm. As usual, you made it late to Paril. I knew that your busy mind wouldn't notice my name in the contenders' list. I was pretty sure that I would be invisible as long as Artony and Vaknus were here.” Ramel waved with his helm to Masolon. “That piece of wood helped a lot not to ruin the surprise I was preparing for you. You don't know how I am going to enjoy this fight!”

Four lads from the arena entered the field, two of them pulling a horse, the other two carrying a lance for each contender.

“Put on your helm, Masolon. You will need it.” Ramel put on his own helm and mounted his horse.

Masolon stood frozen as a statue, gazing at the helm in his hands.

“Come on!” Ramel cried. “Or I shall pierce your head with my lance!”

Pulling himself together, Masolon covered his head with the helm and mounted his horse. Ramel waited at the other end of the arena for the horns to be blown.

The final round of the Contest started. Ramel was the first to spur his horse onward, while Masolon, still muddled by Ramel’s appearance, needed two more seconds to get himself into the fight.

Both riders held their lances as the two horses galloped toward each other. Masolon's eyes were fixed on Ramel's trunk. He waited for the right moment to drive his lance into Ramel's torso to finish that matter once and for all. But just before that right moment, his horse whinnied out of pain when Ramel's lance hit it. The stallion swayed and was about to lose balance and fall, but managed to keep its four hooves on the ground, making its way to the end of the arena field.

Masolon wheeled his horse to face Ramel, who reached the other side of the field.

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