Blood Bonds

Delia growled low in her throat, glaring at the person opposite her as they circled around each other, each wielding their weapons of choice. Her twin daggers flashed in the sunlight, the light gleaming along the serrated edges. They looked wicked, and her opponent knew from experience that they were every bit as painful as they appeared.

Then again, his lone dagger, nearly twice the length of hers, wasn't exactly gentle, with its tiny hooks and small holes in the blade. Roark grinned at her, his white teeth flashing brightly against his darkly tanned skin. "Now, now, Delia," he teased, feinting a stab at her lightly armored midsection.

She ignored the feint, knowing that he was toying with her. They were still warming up; the real fight wasn't even close to beginning for them. "Roark," she warned, his name ground out in the same growling tone.

The two fighters continued to circle, their leather armor warming in the sunlight, growing more supple as they moved. At some unseen, unheard signal, they rushed each other, the trio of daggers glinting, blinding onlookers as the two fought.

It was an old dance, and Delia especially reveled in it. This was passion, life, love, the very essence of being. She grinned at Roark, and he returned it with an answering smile.

Slashes were made and parried, stabs were turned aside. Delia's hands moved in a blur, attacking and blocking in a pattern that few in the stands could distinguish.

Roark, for his part, used his free hand to grapple, trying to prevent her dominant hand from making too many moves while he used his dominant to attack.

A single drop of blood flashed in the air, hanging as if frozen in time before it finally fell to the sands beneath their feet. The two leapt apart, checking themselves and each other, before they grinned, each holding up a bloodied weapon, a thin red line appearing on the right cheek of each fighter.

First blood had been drawn at precisely the same moment. It was a draw.

Roark gave a wild yell, grabbing his beloved and twirling her around. "Another tie, my dear!" he exclaimed, giving her a sound kiss.

When they released, Delia grinned at him. "Number twenty-seven, wasn't it?"

They both turned, clasping the others hand, and raised their fists in the air in victory.

"Is there any here who wishes to challenge us?"

The crowd went silent for a long moment, not a single soul moving for fear of being chosen to fight the undefeated duo.

"I will."

The silence shattered.