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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #1314233
The final round in a tournament for the throne of a powerful kingdom.
The arena was packed as the citizens of the Turan Kingdom cheered wildly. The tournament for the throne had began early in the morning, and as the sun began to set, the final two combatants prepared to face off. As the Grand Chancellor rose to his feet, the two combatants kneeled towards him.

"We are down to our last contestants. Whomever wins this final battle shall become the king of our fair nation. Weir Lef, knighted by our former king for his service during the Black Rose War." the chancellor said.

As he said this, the chancellor waved toward one of the combatants. The man was in his early thirties, with a black suit of spiked armor that matched his hair. He was holding a broadsword in his left hand, with a black tower shield in his right. The crowd applauded.

"And Goran, whose cleverness and bravery against the Kurinian Army saved thousands of lives." the chancellor said.

The chancellor waved toward the other combatant. This man was completely bald, despite being in his mid-twenties. The areas around his eyes were covered in blue paint, while a red raven covered his chest and stomach. He was holding a warhammer in both hands. The crowd applauded, though less enthusiastically for this combatant.

"Let the final battle, begin!" the chancellor exclaimed.

The combatants turned to face each other. Goran made a running jump at Weir, smashing Weir's shield with his hammer. Weir staggered backward from the force of the blow. Goran made a wide swing for Weir's head. Weir ducked just in time to avoid being hit. Weir made a quick lunge at his opponent, stabbing him in the leg.

Goran stepped back, wincing at the pain in his leg. Weir made a savage slice at his opponent's head. Goran blocked the blow with his hammer, only to have the hammer broken. Goran hit Weir across the jaw with the haft of the hammer. As Weir reeled back from the blow, Goran dropped his hammer, grabbing two handaxes from his belt.

Goran performed a savage chop at Weir. Weir blocked the first chop with his shield, but the second caught his hand. Weir let out a cry of pain as his shield dropped to the ground. Goran seized this opportunity and wrestled his opponent to the ground. Goran leaned in close to Weir.

"You're not going to win. The kingdom will be mine." Goran stated.

"No one wants you to be king. Your cousin rules Balnar. If you win the tournament, you're just going to hand this kingdom over to him." Weir said.

"True enough. However, I know what you're planning. Your plans of conquest will end here." Goran replied.

Weir chuckled, much to Goran's surprise.

"I do not know how you learned of my plans, nor do I care. It is my destiny to rule this world." Weir stated.

"I thought your destiny was to die in the Fire Pits of Vulnar." Goran replied.

Weir gazed at his opponent in shock. I've killed every oracle that told me that vision. There's no way he could know. Unless he is... Weir pondered as Goran rose.

As Goran raised him arms for a savage strike, Weir struck him in the head with the butt of his blade. Goran was stunned long enough for Weir to toss him off his chest. Weir rose to his feet just as Goran regained his senses. Goran tossed one of his axes at Weir, but Weir dodged it with ease.

As Weir advanced on his opponent, Goran chanted an invocation. The raven symbol on his chest suddenly became several ravens, surrounding Weir. Goran rushed Weir, who was busy fighting off the attacks of the birds. Goran swung at Weir's head, slicing his cheek.

Enraged, Weir grabbed Goran's face. He chanted a powerful invocation. As he removed his hand, Goran's face burst into flame. Goran screamed in pain as the ravens surrounding Weir vanished. Weir made a running lunge at Goran, stabbing him through the heart. Goran fell to his knees.

"Impossible...! Destiny decreed I would win..." Goran said.

Weir removed his blade and Goran fell to the ground. The crowd cheered wildly as Weir sheathed his blade. The chancellor rose from his seat.

"Citizens of Turan. I give you your new king, Weir Lef." the chancellor proclaimed.

The crowd cheered as Weir walked off the field of battle. Weir chuckled to himself as he walked.

The Scion of Destiny has fallen, and I am the king of one of the most powerful nations in the world. Not too bad, for a beginning. Weir thought to himself as he walked off to have his injuries healed.
© Copyright 2007 Alan Carter (ginkelaar at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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