The Swords

Chapter 5

“Do you want to play?” asked the guy as I reached the pool table.

“Well, my friend’s defeat won avenge itself.” Mark turned around and raised his glass, as I was finishing my sentence with a smile.

“I think you will like Randal, Elijah.” Mark replied, as he went back to his friends, a few tables away.

Randal collected all the balls and assembled the triangle, as I was putting chalk on my cue, to increase its accuracy. He could easily grab balls from across the table, seeing him do that seemed quite unnatural since his hands were long enough for him to do it effortlessly. As he was arranging the balls, he was biting his lip while his eyes were changing focus all the time, meaning that he was thinking. When he was done, he went to grab his cue, which was shorter than him, seeming nothing but a stick when put next to his well-built body. It was a weird picture though. He seemed quite strong, but at the same time he was so tall that he appeared really slim, wearing a red shirt and a pair of blue jeans way too large for him. After I was done with the chalk, I passed it to him and took a deep breath. The scent of freshly squeezed oranges taking over my nostrils, while my eyes jumped to its source, spotting the drink the barman was preparing for a bunch of girls. This gave me the urge to drink something, but I couldn’t run off before the game even began. Besides, there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Do you want to start? It’s fine with me.” I told him, apparently trying to make him to strike first, which was not a favourable trade for him.

“Being new around here doesn’t mean I am new at billiard as well. If you really want to be the selfless one, you can begin.” He knew his way around with words, I will give him that. However, he might not be new to the game, but he never faced an adversary like me before.

“Very well, however it pleases you.” He grinned, satisfied with himself, thinking that he made me lose a strike, since people hardly ever pocketed any ball with it. I went behind the white ball and took aim, noticing that he placed the triangle a bit to the left, making sure that the one taking the first shot would be as unfavoured as possible. The surface of the table was a lot rougher than I remembered it, which was a bit of a surprise, but didn’t affect my game in any way. The way Randal thought did impact it, however. He planned this move, ensuring he had the edge in the fight. Mark was right: I liked this guy. He knew his was around the pool table, but at the same time this gave me an idea about his personality, his eyes gleaming and his posture being relaxed, still feeling satisfaction from the simple fact that he managed to dodge this. I aimed with my cue two more times, the polished wood sliding effortlessly on my left hand. The beating of my heart and the emptiness in my stomach made this seem the most important shot I’ve ever taken in my entire life, and maybe it was. My psyche had to be in perfect condition, otherwise I would succumb to my own strategy. I took two deep breaths, my cue still being drawn back, waiting for me to take the shot, so eventually, I did.

Randall didn’t expect what happened. The white ball hit the triangle head on, under the exact angle I desired, so the stripes ball in the left corner went straight to the top pocket. After a grin of satisfaction popped up on my face, I turned to Randal and found his eyes opened wide, his hand moving nervously on its cue. Knowing already that he was the kind of guy who plans everything, I was curious to see how good he was at adapting when his plan took an unexpected turn. It didn’t matter how the table looked after the first strike, my point was made and my psychological advantage was established. I tried a bold move, aiming for a ball in the other part of the table, knowing it would miss, the goal of it being to induce Randall the illusion that the first strike was just a lucky one. Billiard is a sport in which concentration is everything, lose it and the game is lost. He watched in disbelief as the white ball was rolling towards the yellow one, which only missed the pocket by a few millimetres. I acted an angry face, not believing that it missed.

“Let’s make a bet.” I told him as he was preparing for his move.

“I am listening.”

“If I win, I get to ask you anything I want and you have to answer it.”

“What if I win?”

Smirking and on an arrogant tone I told him:

“What would you like?” Not that it would matter, I was a spider building a web and he was right in it.

“You get me to be in Zara’s inner circle of friends, basically you make me popular.”

“You’ve got a deal.” He turned back to the table and started aiming, while I was watching him carefully. It was clear that his right hand was shaking slightly, which meant that no matter how skilled he was, his shots won’t ever go the way he wants them. He was blinking faster than normally and it seemed like he was clenching his teeth, his body being really strained. He tried to do everything in his power to focus on that one easy strike, being so keen on it that it almost made me question whether my strategy would work or not. It was all revolving on his morale, if he landed a hit, he would get a boost. The strike he was aiming for was an easy one. All he had to do was hit the ball straight on and send it directly into the pocket, no angles or deflected hits required. The moment the white ball started rolling, the result was clear.

“Checkmate.” I muttered as he hit the target totally under the wrong angle, putting himself in a worse position than the one he was in before. He couldn’t believe his eyes and he clenched his left fist, trying to hide the fact that it was shaking. Maybe he was smart, maybe he was skilled, maybe if I faced him head on like Mike did, I would have lost, but it was clear that he had a weak psyche, so the moment I got to him was the moment he lost. He even accepted to raise the stakes through a bet, which meant that there was even more pressure on him. The game was, so one-sided that he almost broke his glass from all the pressure he put on it while holding it, making me want to drink something even more. Before my last hit, I positioned myself behind the white ball and took the strike with my mind cleared of any other thoughts, ensuring that the ball will reach the pocket. The black ball rolled into the pocket bringing me the game, without allowing Randal to pocket more than one ball.

“Well played.” He put the cue aside and took a few deep breaths, his long hand looking funny as his shoulders were rising and his chest growing. “May I ask you something first?”

“Go ahead.” I told him, keeping a cool attitude, trying to not ruin the dude’s mood further than it already was.

“How did you do it?” he pointed to the table where the balls which were not pocketed still rested in random positions, all of them being solids. I grinned. He really wasn’t used to being bested like that.

“He plays the man, not the game.” Mark said before I could answer, shaking my hand. “It takes some time to get used to it, I don’t think there is anyone who could beat Elijah the first time they played against him, so don’t take it too harsh.” I let out a small laughter as he returned a friendly smile and went to the bar to refill his glass.

“You aren’t just cool guys around here, are you?”

“We like to believe we are not, but enough about that; I only have one question for you.”

“I guess I owe you that much.”

“Do you have any tattoos?”

The guy frowned, thinking where did that come from.

“Not that I know of.”

“Do you mind uncovering your wrists for me?”

He raised the sleeves of his red blouse and showed me his wrists where there was nothing to be seen. I inspected it for several seconds before turning around, being the one who was frowning this time. Any swordsmen who wasn’t part of the Swords had a tattoo in the area of their wrists, helping them identify to others like them. If he doesn’t have them then he isn’t who I thought he is, which meant that my entire plan was meaningless.

“Are you alright?” he asked me, but I could barely hear him, a buzzing sound taking over my ears, while my legs could barely sustain my weight anymore. Who then? Where was the threat? Gulping my saliva and taking a few deep breaths, trying to control my feelings, I started looking around. Aria was still at her table chatting safe and sound and I turned around to see Chris and Zara were in the other part of the room…only they still weren’t there.

“s**t!” I exclaimed, remembering that I sent Chris after Zara and he didn’t return since. My heartbeat reached critical limits while I was clenching my fists.

I stood up.

“They are probably just messing around somewhere.” I muttered, but it had no effect on my mood. I transformed my watch in a pair of knives and got to the door with a dash, faster than anyone would have thought possible.

“They have to be.”