A Song of Silence

Chapter 98: Injuries in the Dark

Thank you to @Spookwasfound for your support of A Song of Silence!!! Every favorite, comment, and follow means the world to me!!!

Blood spurted from the wound and all I could think was "it's gone." It's gone. It's gone. It's gone. My hand is fucking gone. Blood flowed down my hand and soaked into the white material of my armor. Bone stick through the bloody stump of flesh that remained on my arm. A cruel chuckle was all I heard from the man in front of me. He smiles in victory at the hand that now lay in the sand and the blood that flowed from where my hand used to be. It's gone.

I shook my head trying to clear it. My body was trying to go into shock. I couldn't let it. I wouldn't let it. Grabbing the remaining length of the rope, I quickly torquinet my wound. Even with blood quickly dripping down my hand, I take a dagger out of its sheathe and face my father once more. He laughs, "You foolish, foolish little girl. You think you can beat me now? After losing a hand. You have a chance when you had all of your limbs in tact, but now? Now you really don't stand a fucking chance!" The crowd seems to agree with him as they cheer at the blood dripping from my hand.

Choosing to ignore the crowd, I respond, "We'll see." Still not giving up hope after losing a fucking limb. How stupid of me. I can already feel the effects of blood loss on my already battered body, but I try not to let it show. Gripping the larger dagger, I advance towards my father. He circles me as I advance on him. Wary still, he watches my movements as I watch him. I am now at a marked disadvantage because of my lost appendage and my father seems to be much less exhausted than I. Still, I steady my breath and grip my dagger. This is going to be a shit show.

I lunge at him, but he quickly blocks. My knee comes up to kick him in the balls, but he uses his strength to push our weapons together to block my knee. Pulling back quickly, I punch him across the face with the hilt of my dagger. He staggers back, stunned that I actually managed to hit him with one hand. I smile at the stunned look on his face. Rather then letting his anger get the better of him, he draws the trident that was slung along his back. Charging at me, I couldn't deflect his blow as the prongs of the trident twisted up the dagger in my hand. He twisted the prongs, trying to get me to drop the dagger in my hand. Refusing to do so, I used my forearm to better lever my strength against his.

A blood vessel popped in my eye and literal red appeared at the corner of my vision. The strain of my exhaustion was getting to me and on top of a lost hand, I now had to deal with partial blindness. Fucking fantastic. Lost in my own thoughts, I didn't notice my fathers boot come around and jab the side of my leg. My already sore and exhausted muscles couldn't take it. I collapsed under the strain while still trying to hold my own against my fathers strength. Now he was on the high ground and it was expending even more of my energy to keep him from slicing a cut clean across my face.

With my remaining strength and agility, I kicked the back of his knees as well. My father was too focused on using his strength to press me down that he didn't notice my leg in motion until it was too late. He landed in his back with his legs at my feet. I didn't waste my chance and stabbed quickly with my dagger. The sharp metal stuck deep into my fathers thigh. He roared out in pain as blood spurted out of the wound. Quickly rolling away before he could also strike me, I managed to rise to my feet once more as my father staggered to his.

"You bitch!" He screamed at me. Are you fucking serious. The male literally slides off my hand and he is the one that is more upset about being stabbed? Men can be so dramatic sometimes. My irritation seems to show on my face because he quickly shuts up and charges me once more. The wound in his thigh slows him considerably, so I quickly veer out of the way as he charges at me like an enraged bull. I can feel the wind he creates as he quickly runs past me and tries to stop himself. Again he charges at me and once more, I move to the side as he whooshes past. Again and again and again. He charges and I dodge. No blows bring exchanged and no blood being spilt. It like a kind of dance, except one party is getting brutally humiliated.

Finally, my father realizes just charging at me will get him nowhere and he chooses to try to catch his breath. The fool did not torquing his leg, so there is a puddle of blood where he now stands and it is getting noticeably larger. This could become a competition if who would pass out and due from blood loss first, but I lost a hand, so I believe that I would lose that challenge. Not waiting for my father to catch his breath any longer, I charge at him and swing with my dagger. He tries to dodge it as I had, but his leg hampers him and I am able to slice him on his abdomen. He roars in anger and the next time I come at him, he blocks it instead of trying to dodge me.

This goes on for a while and it becomes evident that he is not used to fighting wounded. Or with an advanced opponent of any kind. While I had fought many opponents severely wounded and even close to death, it seemed my father had never done so or had not done so in quite a while. The body is trained to forget pain, but enough pain recently will make you more resistant and able to fight through it than others. If my father had been injured in a fight in the past, it had been quite a while since then and it showed. He grimaced and limped with pain. He didn't immediately torquinet his wound when he received it either. He no doubt had done it before and knew that he was supposed to, but his instincts to survive and escape were overriding his common sense and numerous years of training. I guess that was what happened when you became too comfortable with your position, you lost focus and became weak.

Taking advantage of his obvious weakness, I go for his other appendages getting him to block me trying to defend them and prevent another wound. In the process he had several openings to wound me and I would not have been able to get back up, but his self preservation overrode his battle sense. My end goal in attacking him though, was to get him on the defense and eventually, leaning on his wounded leg. A few more blocked attacks and the roar of pain that attacked my ears was all the signal that I needed to prove that my plan had worked. With him on the defense and in considerate pain, I used all my strength and agility against him. The result was a few cuts from my dagger on his body, but unfortunately nothing more debilitating.

With each cut he staggered back more and more, but I could tell he was holding back something. I just didn't know what it was. Tired after my rapid attacks, I hung back and rested a bit, allowing my father some time to get back on his feet as well. He seemed exhausted and weak. The opposite of how I had always seen my father. It was jarring to be sure. Taking out my broadsword I prepared for hopefully, my fathers final blow. Easing the sword with the last of my strength, I watched as it descended towards my fathers exposed neck.