The sound of the crowd roared in Lenore’s head as she ran towards her opponent, moving swiftly and gracefully over the already blood-soaked ground. It had been a long day already, with many defeated enemies and what seemed like an ocean of blood, but she wasn’t tired. Her heart sang strongly at the thought of more battle. One more chance to live or die. One more chance to dance with the dragon.
She saw her opponent coming towards her – a marked contrast. She was athletic and wore only light clothing so as not to restrict herself, wielding two waved blades with scarlet hair flapping in the wind from their pommels. Her opponent had sword and shield and enough armour that she couldn’t tell how built he was, though he must have been fairly strong to be carrying everything that he was. Lenore laughed – this battle was already won. He clearly cared too much about his survival. She simply trusted that she would win, and therefore survive. The best way to survive was to win. She felt like the lion head embossed on her belt roared for her, and so she joined it in roaring at her foe. She could see that he feared her – and he was right to. She displayed her complete disregard for him and his chances of hurting her. Her hair hung down behind her, almost reaching her waist, and one side of her body was covered in the dragon tattoo that represented her patron – the great dragon of battle. The fact that it was visible, that she trusted to her skin alone to protect her, would strike fear into him. They clashed, and she laughed again as they did. One of her blades struck his shield, and she effortlessly deflected his sword with her other. She kicked him back, making a little distance, and she gave him a wicked grin. She saw him move back with a start, and she leapt at him. He raised his shield, desperately trying to fend her off and she ran up it, jumping again when she reached the top and turning in the air to land behind him. She plunged her blades into his less protected back and, not waiting to make sure he was down, started to look for another opponent. They were chanting her name. “Lenore! Lenore! Lenore!” The crowds always loved her. They didn’t like watching people be too careful, never committing to an attack. She just attacked, and they loved her for it. Two were coming this time – both still armoured, but with different weapons. One held a spear and a net, and the other twin blades much as she had. She set off running again. The numbers didn’t matter. The choice of weapons didn’t matter. They still, clearly, feared her, and so she would win. The dragon roared in her mind. As Lenore moved, she angled herself towards the man with the net – he was the greater threat. She effortlessly dodged his clumsy spear thrust, jumping again and landing on the wood. Her weight brought it down to the ground, and it snapped beneath her feet. She gave him a grin, and then began running to him again. He desperately tried to bring his net before him, to throw it onto her before she reached him, but it was fruitless. The dragon roared as she plunged one sword into his chest, stabbing through the armour with momentum-granted ease. She saw two more heading her way, but they were still distant and unimportant. She turned to the man with the twin blades. He was nervous – not attacking her. He was waiting for the others to join the fray. He wouldn’t live that long. The roar was constant now – she couldn’t tell where one ended and the next started. She moved again, running lightly over the ground, jumping over the bodies already there. She danced with the dragon. Blade met blade in the air. This man had some skill, able to match her attacks with his parries and deflections, but she didn’t care. He was defending, rather than attacking. He was playing for time, which meant he knew that he couldn’t win alone. She could. She increased her speed, attacking faster and faster. He glanced over her shoulder, checking to see how long he needed to hold out. That was her chance, and she attacked both high and low. He tried to parry, but he had seen the attack a moment too late, and only managed to deflect one of her blades. She pushed him off with her foot and turned again. The two men had been joined by another two. How many more would they send? The crowd still roared her name. The dragon roared in her head. She roared at her enemies. It didn’t matter. As long as she knew she would win, they couldn’t, and so they would die. She flicked blood from her blades, tossed her hair in the wind, and ran once more. The gods and the dragon would decide her fate. Arrows thudded to the ground around her. Archers too? Well – she would get to them. She started to weave as she ran, never being in the spot they might have expected her to be. The arrows landed, but none struck home. A part of her wondered at the fairness of throwing archers into the mix as well. The crowd would love it – they always cheered to see her overcome adversity – but four enemies along with archers was pushing it. She heard a roar, and it wasn’t one from inside her head. She glanced round as she ran. Lions. They’d let two lions in. She dismissed those thoughts. She couldn’t afford to think them. The roar of the dragon crowded them out. She would just keep fighting until she had beaten everybody. What other choice did she have? She was the dragon. Lenore continued to weave as she moved and leapt as high as she could when she reached the line of enemies with their weapons lined up. They turned as she flew, her movement obvious, but at least it kept them between her and the archers. And the lions. Landing lightly, facing them again after twisting in the air, she attacked. No clever tricks this time – against so many she simply had to hope that they would be too cautious, too reluctant to potentially harm their friends. For a few precious moments, it worked. She attacked and she wove through them. She saw blade fall, and spears stab, and she avoided every single one of them. She recognised that she was defending too much, but against these odds she couldn’t find the opportunity to attack. She shifted her focus – if she could take one of them out, that would be enough to make the difference. They couldn’t possibly send more against her after this. Could they? She knelt, allowing attacks to sail over her head, and lashed out with her twin blades. She struck flesh and heard a cry of pain. She roared in defiance. Her enemies had moved back slightly, not wanting to trample their injured comrade. Now was her chance. She gave her feral grin and lunged forwards. She was surprised when the spear appeared in front of her, coming out of her chest. They had… hit her? Who had done it? It didn’t matter. She could still win. She tried to roar, to match the noise in her ears, but her breath was gone. The men around her started to stab down with their weapons. They would want to kill her quickly. The roar in her head didn’t go away. If anything, it grew louder. The roar of the crowd echoed it. “Lenore! Lenore! Lenore!” Her tattoos started to glow. Her patron, her lover, her saviour. The dragon rose from her, lifting from her skin, and giving its own roar, now audible to everyone. Her own body faded as it rose from the ground, lashing out at her old enemies, sending them running. They would have heard the stories – everybody had heard the stories – but they wouldn’t have believed. Who would have? She flew now – no leap, but actual flight, beating her wings. She filled the sky and looked down with surprise. No gladiatorial arena this, but a battleground. Where was the crowd that chanted her name? Where was the Emperor, watching on and waiting for her to win? No crowds here but armies. No Emperor, but there was a general who had unleashed her against his enemies. No matter. The fight was all that mattered. She descended back to the ground, in front of her own forces. The image of the dragon faded and then, somehow, was Lenore again. Unharmed, ink on her skin fading until it was only tattoos again. And she looked towards her enemy. The sound of the crowd roared in Lenore’s head as she ran towards her opponents, moving swiftly and gracefully over the already blood-soaked ground. It had been a long day already, with many defeated enemies and what seemed like an ocean of blood, but she wasn’t tired. Her heart sang strongly at the thought of more battle. One more chance to live or die. Once more chance to dance with the dragon. Though a part of her wondered if it would ever end.
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October 2021
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