Duel on the Waterfall

Pally and Merwinn left the tavern, winter's cold wind biting at their cheeks as they headed north. The path leading to the mountain was blanketed in freshly fallen snow, muffling the sound of their footsteps and lending a hushed, cloistered atmosphere to their expedition.

"Do you think we'll find Marcel easily?" asked Merwinn, narrowing his eyes to scan the snowy surroundings.

"I'm sure we'll find some trace of him. Marcel can't be very far," Pally replied, adjusting his scarf.

The path was steep and strewn with boulders, but that only added to the adventure. They scaled rocky walls, hoisting themselves with agility up the thick vines that hung between the trees. They knew this route well, for it led to the house of Cirilla, their mentor.

"I can't wait to see Cirilla again... I miss her so much. I hope she's alright," Merwinn said, casting a worried glance at Pally.

"You're worried about Cirilla?" asked Pally, amused. "She's a fearsome warrior, one of a kind. I've never seen anyone as strong as her."

"Yes, it's true she managed, all on her own, to beat the chief of the Crimson Bandits, where the two of us couldn't," Merwinn replied, which irritated Pally a little.

The landscape grew wilder and more awe-inspiring as they climbed the mountain. The trees, their branches heavy with snow, formed a white, glittering tunnel beneath the winter sun. Each step in the fresh snow let out a faint crunch, the only sound in that slumbering wilderness.

At last, they emerged onto a wide plateau. Before them lay a spectacular panorama: an immense waterfall crashed thunderously into a frozen expanse of water below. Ice covered part of the surface, but one could still see the river's powerful, untamable current carrying on through the snow-laden valley. The deafening roar of the falls echoed in the air, a striking contrast to the silence of the forest they had just left behind.

The river, broad and impetuous, barred their way, making any direct crossing impossible. In the distance, an old but sturdy wooden bridge spanned the top of the waterfall, where the gap between the two banks was narrowest. To reach that bridge, they still had to climb higher, following a steep trail that wound among boulders and frozen trees.

The climb, though difficult, did not intimidate them. Pally and Merwinn were accustomed to this rugged path, thanks to the rigorous training of Cirilla, their mentor. She had drilled them relentlessly, making them climb up and down this mountain several times a week. Their endurance and agility were the fruit of those intense exercises. Every rock, every tree root, was familiar to them, and their muscles, sculpted by effort, answered each challenge of the slippery trail with precision.

"I still remember the first time Cirilla made us climb up here," said Pally, a smile tugging at his lips. "I thought my legs were going to give out."

Merwinn nodded. "Yeah, she showed no mercy. But look at us now. We're climbing this like pros."

"Back then, it was our playground and our torture ground," Pally added with a laugh.

As they climbed, they recalled the countless training sessions with Cirilla, who had never shown them the slightest leniency. She had pushed them past their limits, urging them to climb higher, run faster, fight harder. Her lessons were not only physical; she had also taught them discipline, strategy, and the art of the sword. Her piercing eyes and unyielding demeanor had often terrified them, but it was that very rigor that had forged them into formidable young warriors.

"Do you remember that time you and I nearly touched her with our wooden swords?" asked Merwinn.

"Haha, yes, we hit her with our special move — she was overwhelmed!" said Pally, scratching the tip of his nose, proud of himself. "She had to use her powers, otherwise we'd have landed a hit for sure."

Their mentor had instilled in them not only strength and agility, but also suppleness and precision. They had learned to move with a startling fluidity, their motions becoming as natural as their own breath. Cirilla had insisted on the importance of flexibility, drilling them through complicated sequences until they achieved perfection. Memories of those training sessions came flooding back, stirred by the sight of this mountain that had been their playground and their proving ground.

"Or that time she threw us into the river and we had to swim to the other side while the current could have carried us off. That was really life or death," Merwinn recalled. "I truly thought I'd never make it."

"And when she said that was only the warm-up, and that we had to do ten round trips," Pally added.

"Haha yes, you were so furious that you hurled a stone at her, which she dodged, caught in mid-air, and chucked right back in your face," Merwinn added, laughing.

They burst out laughing, their peals ringing through the crisp mountain air. Their laughter, innocent and joyful, mingled with the deafening roar of the waterfall below. The echo of their boyish voices spread across the snowy valley, weaving a harmonious melody with the thunder of water pouring into the frozen expanse.

The scenery around them was breathtaking. The trees frozen in ice shimmered beneath the winter sun, their snow-laden branches glittering like diamonds. The waterfall, majestic and powerful, seemed eternal and unchanging, its raw force contrasting with the delicacy of the snowflakes dancing in the air.

"Listen to that," said Pally, pausing for a moment, hands on his hips. "It's like the mountain is laughing with us."

Merwinn nodded, a smile on his lips. "Yeah, it's as if nature herself remembers our adventures with Cirilla."

They set off again, their spirits lifted by the memories.

They also recalled the battle against the Crimson Bandits, where everything they had learned had been put to the test. Cirilla had managed to free them from the bandits' clutches, but it was thanks to that rigorous training that they had been able to stand their ground and ultimately triumph. They were the only ones who had escaped the slavery imposed upon their village.

"Without Cirilla, we would never have survived against the Crimson Bandits," said Merwinn, thoughtful. "She truly saved our lives."

That was the second time Merwinn had irritated Pally by bringing up the fact that Cirilla had saved them, and it stung his pride.

"Anyway, today I'm far stronger than before. I'd have eaten that bandit chief alive, and without any help at all," Pally retorted.

Merwinn rolled his eyes, amused by his friend's reaction. "I've made progress too. I trained hard while you were still snoring in the mornings," he said with a smirk.

"No matter how much progress you make, Merwinn, I'll always be stronger than you," said Pally, folding his arms behind his head and striking a nonchalant pose.

Merwinn, stung by the remark, drew his wooden sword from its sheath and struck with lightning speed. Pally immediately parried with his own. The clatter of the two wooden blades sent several birds soaring into the sky, shattering the mountain's silence.

Pally's face lit up with a challenging energy, as though a flame had just been kindled inside him.

"What do you say to a duel, here and now?" said Merwinn, a smile full of challenge curving his lips.

"I've been waiting for this..." Pally answered with the same smile.

Merwinn wasted no time. He lunged with agility, striking swiftly and chaining one attack after another. His wooden sword whistled through the air, aimed at Pally's flanks and legs, and Pally defended with ease. The clash of the two wooden blades rang out, a sharp, crisp sound that echoed across the mountain. Pally gave ground, parrying each blow with precision, his movements fluid and controlled.

"Not bad, Merwinn, but you'll have to do better than that," said Pally, blocking a quick strike aimed at his left shoulder.

Merwinn, determined, picked up the pace. He struck with impressive speed, his blows landing one after another without respite. Pally kept retreating, absorbing his friend's attacks while keeping one eye on the uneven terrain. They pressed deeper and deeper into the mountain, their footsteps leaving clean prints in the snow.

Merwinn launched a series of diagonal strikes, alternating between Pally's left and right sides, trying to break his guard. His blows rose from low to high, targeting in succession the left leg, the right side of the abdomen, and then Pally's head.

Pally felt the tension mount in that sequence, but anticipated every movement all the same, parrying the strikes with disconcerting skill and precision, his arms answering the attacks instinctively.

"You're losing your edge, Pally. I'm going to land one eventually," Merwinn teased, launching a new attack at Pally's legs.

"We'll see about that," Pally replied with an amused smile, hopping lightly aside to dodge the blow.

Pally evaded one of Merwinn's upward vertical strikes head-on, stepping sideways with a single stride — he felt Merwinn's blade graze his face. But it was controlled, he told himself.

Suddenly, Pally spun and ran toward the upper slope of the mountain, his feet slipping lightly on the snow. Adrenaline surged through their veins, and they were exhilarated, brimming with energy, life bubbling within them. Their laughter rang out in the cold air, mingling with the deafening roar of the waterfall.

They were nearing the bridge, and Merwinn, mid-attack, attempted a feint to one side in order to strike horizontally at the opposite flank by surprise. Pally dodged just in time, like an acrobat, while parrying the attack with a powerful blow that disarmed Merwinn and sent him spinning on his heel.

Pally straightened up and stepped onto the bridge, while Merwinn, undeterred, followed to continue his assault.

The bridge, slightly slick beneath their feet, swayed a little with each step and shuddered under the icy wind whistling through its wooden planks. The roaring waterfall below added a constant menace; a fall from this bridge would mean a direct plunge into the raging waters. And yet, despite the obvious danger, neither Pally nor Merwinn panicked. Adrenaline boiled within them, focusing their attention entirely on their duel.

Pally and Merwinn were panting, their breath forming little clouds of vapor in the frozen air. Their faces were flushed from effort and cold, and beads of sweat pearled on their brows despite the winter temperatures. Pally, the more enduring of the two, was showing signs of fatigue but remained solid on his footing, his movements still precise and deliberate. His eyes shone with concentration, a glint of challenge animating his gaze.

Merwinn, for his part, was visibly more exhausted. His breathing came faster and his shoulders heaved heavily with each inhalation. His wooden sword trembled slightly in his hand, and his legs seemed ready to give way under the strain of the duel. Yet he refused to give up, his determined gaze fixed on Pally, ready to press on with the fight in spite of his obvious weariness.

"Not bad, Merwinn. But you look out of breath," Pally called, a half-smile on his lips.

"I'm not done yet," Merwinn retorted, tightening his grip on his sword, determined to prove he could still hold his own against his friend.

Merwinn, seized by a second wind, attempted a series of intricate attacks, hoping to catch Pally off guard. The latter, though slightly unsettled, remained in control, dodging and parrying each blow with impressive skill.

Suddenly, Pally decided to go on the offensive. He deflected a feeble attack from Merwinn — one born of fatigue — and countered with blazing speed. Merwinn, startled by the shift in rhythm, retreated hastily, his feet slipping slightly on the wood of the bridge.

"You haven't seen everything I can do," said Pally, his eyes gleaming with determination.

The duel took a new turn. Pally attacked with strength and precision, forcing Merwinn to give ground and defend desperately. The blows rained down, the wooden swords clashing with a clear, crisp sound. The suspended bridge trembled slightly beneath their feet.

Merwinn, though driven back, refused to be broken. He used his agility to dodge Pally's attacks, searching for openings to counterstrike. Their closeness and mutual understanding made the fight fascinating to watch, each movement anticipated and countered with remarkable precision.

"This bridge marks the end of your journey!" said Pally in a grave voice, aiming for drama.

Pally, after one last powerful onslaught, disarmed Merwinn with a deft motion. Merwinn's wooden sword flew into the air before dropping onto the bridge with a muffled thud.

"Well played, Merwinn. You fought well," said Pally, extending his hand to his friend. Merwinn, winded but smiling, grabbed Pally's hand and got to his feet. "You too, Pally. You really are too strong! And I gave it everything."

"I was playing it cool, but honestly you impressed me a lot — your progress has been incredible!" Pally exclaimed, surprised.

Merwinn picked up his sword and settled beside Pally. They remained a while on the bridge, catching their breath and taking in the beauty of the landscape around them.

The waterfall thundered below, and the winter sun bathed the scene in a soft, golden light.

"Ready to carry on with our mission?" Pally asked with a smile.

"Ready," Merwinn replied, determined. "Let's go find Marcel."

After crossing the bridge, they descended the mountain with care. The snow blanketed the path, creating a landscape of dazzling whiteness, every step in the fresh snow letting out a faint crunch. The descent, though slippery, felt easier after the intensity of their duel.

At last, they reached a lower plateau where Cirilla's house stood. The place was enchanting even in winter. The wooden cabin, built from thick logs, stood firm against the flank of the mountain. Garlands of light glimmered at the windows, adding a touch of warmth and comfort to the icy scene. A blanket of snow weighed the roof down a little, but the smoking chimney hinted at a welcoming, warm interior.

The surrounding trees, majestic firs, were smothered in snow, their heavy branches forming natural archways that seemed to shelter the cabin. In the background, snowy mountains stretched as far as the eye could see, their peaks sparkling beneath the winter sun. The sky was clear, a deep blue, and the air was pure and biting.

In front of the cabin, a small garden plot buried under the snow hinted at a few winter vegetables, brave survivors of the cold.

Off to the side, a peculiar structure caught their eye. Five wooden logs had been set up on raised supports, forming a training platform. The logs were arranged symmetrically, some taller than others, radiating outward from the central log. It was here that Pally and Merwinn had trained their balance while sparring against each other without falling, under Cirilla's keen and commanding guidance.

"Look, Merwinn, the logs are still there," said Pally with a nostalgic smile. "How many times did we tumble off those platforms before managing to stay on them?"

"More than I can count," Merwinn replied, laughing. "Cirilla made us start over again and again, until we could fight without falling."

They recalled the hours spent leaping from one log to another, their feet scrambling desperately for stable footing while parrying the blows of their opponent. Cirilla stood below, watching them with piercing eyes, correcting their posture and technique in a firm voice.

"Don't drop your guard! Stay focused!" she would often shout. Her words still echoed in their minds, a reminder of the intensity of their training.

A thin frozen stream wound its way near the cabin, its clear, still water catching the sunlight and casting glittering reflections. The surrounding calm was broken only by the soft murmur of the wind through the trees.

"Do you think Cirilla is there?" asked Merwinn.

"No, she always lights a fire, and right now I don't see any smoke coming from her chimney," Pally replied. "But that's excellent news..." he added with a suspicious air.

"Oh really? Why?" asked Merwinn.

"You'll see! Follow me!" Pally answered, all excited.

They ran up to Cirilla's house, completely forgetting the mission that had brought them there in the first place, and slipped illegally into Cirilla's home.

The interior of Cirilla's house was simple and rustic. The main room had a very minimalist atmosphere. An imposing fireplace dominated the central wall, fitted with a hook for hanging a pot to cook food. Near the fireplace, two wooden chairs seemed to be waiting for someone to settle into them and enjoy the warmth of the fire when it was lit.

Blankets laid directly on the floor testified to nights spent here, adding a touch of spartan comfort to the space. A large, solid wooden table took up the center of the main room, cluttered with old maps, books with worn covers, and carefully maintained weapons. The maps were marked with notes and drawings, showing strategic locations and detailed routes. The books looked as though they had been read many times, their yellowed pages bearing the traces of countless journeys and long hours of study.

Around the table, rough-hewn shelves were laden with rolled parchments, brightly colored potions, and utilitarian objects. The weapons, carefully stored, ranged from swords and daggers to bows and arrows, each piece tended to with the utmost care. Still, the room was rather dim, with very few windows.

"Wow, it's even more impressive than I remember," Merwinn whispered, his eyes wide.

"Yeah, we could spend hours here uncovering treasures," Pally replied, his excitement palpable. "But let's focus — on our treasures."

"Our treasures?" Merwinn wondered.

"Yes... GEUUUUUUUUUUUH!!!" Pally exclaimed, making an exaggerated grimace and pointing in front of him.

"WHOA! WHAT! WHAT IS IT?" Merwinn cried, panic-stricken.

Merwinn looked ahead and saw two swords suspended on supports fixed to the wooden structure. The swords were identical in size, forged from steel of the finest quality, with finely carved, perfectly balanced hilts.

"OUR TREASURES!!!!" exclaimed Merwinn.

These weapons belonged to Pally and Merwinn, but their possession had been briefly revoked by Braum and Cirilla, who did not approve of two children wielding such blades. In exchange, they had been made to use wooden swords for their training.

"Here they are," Pally murmured, reaching out toward his sword, his fingers brushing the cold blade. "Our true weapons. Our babies..."

Merwinn stepped closer as well, his eyes shining with pride at rediscovering his sword. "Do you remember the first time we held them? It was as if they had been made for us."

"Yes," Pally answered, a nostalgic smile on his lips. "They were. And one day, Braum and Cirilla will understand that we're ready."

They stood like that, frozen for a moment before their weapons, savoring this reunion.

"COME ON! Let's not waste any more time! We're taking them," Pally said without hesitation.

They set down their wooden swords with a certain solemnity, as though parting from old friends, then armed themselves with their real blades. Merwinn and Pally felt an immediate, deep connection with the weapons. As they took hold of them, a shiver of power and familiarity ran up their arms. Perfectly balanced, the swords seemed tailor-made for them.

Merwinn stroked the hilt of his sword, feeling the familiar texture of worn leather beneath his fingers. "It feels so good to have her back," he whispered, his eyes bright with emotion.

Pally nodded, a nostalgic smile on his lips. "We've been through so much with them. It's like finding a piece of ourselves again."

They drew a deep breath and exhaled in relief, savoring the feel of their cherished swords in their hands. A new energy seemed to wash over them, a determination renewed by the reassuring presence of their weapons.

Suddenly, they heard a voice calling for help: "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!!" They both jumped, froze, and looked at one another, worry and resolve mingling in their eyes.