TITLE: Sol of a Gladiator
GENRE: Epic Fantasy
Dagger in hand Lysik carved a path through the unarmed rabble, making his way toward an exit. Most of the mob gave him a wide until two men stepped into his path, clearly singling him out for trouble. Undoubtedly brothers, the huge men were most likely twins; one differing from the other only by a well-aged scar cutting diagonal across his bearded face. The easy way they carried themselves told of countless barroom brawls.
“Where do you think your goin’ pretty boy?” the scarred brute asked.
The other laughed at his brother’s wit. “Yeah pretty boy, where you goin’?”
“Charming.” Lysik mumbled to himself. In an instant the dagger left his hand and planted deeply into the latter’s eye socket. The big man stopped mid-laugh and dropped to the ground, dead. His brother followed him down with a mournful howl, cradling his fallen sibling.
“Coward!” the brute blurted. “You didn’t give him a chance!”
Lysik smiled at the naivety of the accusation. He unsheathed his second dagger. “True.” he agreed. “But what chance did he really have?”
Outraged, the growling brute charged Lysik full force. The swift assassin deftly side stepped the charge, ducking below the outstretched arms of his assailant while at the same time drawing the razor sharp dagger across the man’s unprotected abdomen. He stood as the brute stumbled past, clutching his belly in a vain attempt to keep his bowels on the inside of his skin.
Lysik moved to the first fallen brother, retrieving his other dagger. “Sorry I can’t stay and play but I’m in a bit of a hurry.” No answer came from his other attacker, now on his knees staring blankly at the entrails draped over his hands. Lysik continued once again toward the door, this time completely unopposed.