The Games Ch. 5 - 6

Ch. 5 Who’s First?

         Lyle jolted awake.  He had woken up many nights in the past few months.  It was always the same dream; the story of why he was here at the Games.  These nightmares had terrorized him over the years, but much more frequently recently.  It was early morning and as always Lyle couldn’t go back to sleep.

         He sat up in his cot.  Lyle, Phillip, and Schnee still shared the same room, only it had filled over the years and was personalized.  They had remodeled the room.  The two cots were moved to opposite sides of the room up against the walls.  The table was placed in between the two cots with the stools around it.  On the wall at the end of each cot was a weapon rack.

         Lyle got up and walked over to his weapon rack.  He admired his weapons.  The day he had chosen his weapons, Antony had given them to Alí the blacksmith.  Alí had sharpened those weapons and had started making Lyle’s weapons for the Games.  The weapons Lyle chose six years ago were his practice weapons and the mold for his weapons for the Games.

         Lyle picked up his two knives and twirled them about in his hands.  They were beautiful.  The handles were made out of the darkest wood and charred so they appeared even darker, almost black.  They were then sanded and polished to avoid splinters in the hand.  The blades were made of silver.  They were sharp enough to slice right through the dried straw on the practice dummies.  Along the sharp edge of the blades were flecks of red gems, tainting the silver to give off the illusion of a blood-stained edge.

         Lyle set down his knives and picked up his scythe.  The shaft was made of the same wood as the knives and charred in the same fashion.  The shaft was as tall as Lyle was.  The curved blade was embedded into the end of the shaft.  The blade extended two feet out and curved slightly inward.  The blade was made of aged-silver, so it would not break under tension.  Lyle took some low swings, and then put the scythe back into its place.

         Lyle sat back down on the edge of his cot.  He thought about his past.  Since the day he had beat Felix in the wrestling match, Lyle had been trained everyday to fight.  He had lessons in basics, in offense and defense, and in more advanced materials.

         For offense, Lyle was taught every possible attack plus all the various combinations.  He would start the day’s practice by warming-up.  Then, he would review all the attacks he learned the prior days.  After that, Antony would teach him a new move.  Lyle also learned blocks: high blocks, low blocks, inside blocks, outside blocks, and other blocks.  He would mix in blocks with attacks and attacks with blocks to prepare for any type of situation.  Lyle would spend some days training on a straw dummy, with another fighter, or against Antony.

         Once a week, Antony would teach Lyle how to shapeshift effectively between the raven and human forms.  He also taught Lyle how to fight as a raven.  Lyle learned how to use his razor sharp beak and talons to tear at his enemies’ faces and hands.  He also learned how to defend himself from other shapeshifters, vampires, and mages.

         For shapeshifters, Lyle had to learn how to defend himself from all different types of shapeshifters.  He also had to learn how to battle vampires.  The key to fighting them was not to get hit; vampires had superhuman strength.  Other factors to be wary about were a vampire’s bite, their ability to hypnotize, and their ability to hover in the air for short periods of time.  With mages, Lyle had to learn how to dodge magical spells and combat the mages’ pets.  He also learned that most mages were weak at close-combat, but they carried knives.

         Lyle also learned a small amount of first-aid skills in case he got hit.  He could temporarily cover wounds in battle.  He wasn’t anywhere near as good as the clerics.  Clerics were mages specialized in healing magic.

         During the past few years Lyle had gotten into fight with other fighters outside of the daily wrestling matches.  Many of them had been with Felix.  They always ended in a stalemate, both of them bearing wounds inflicted by the other.  The rivalry had grown over the years with Felix’s and Lyle’s increasing revenge for wounds received.  The tension in the air would increase when both were in the same room.  The instructors never tried to get them to fight each other, but they never stopped the fights either.  The fights were usually broken up by some of the other fighters. 

         Lyle walked over one of the walls that had a slab of metal hung on it. The metal was polished extensively so that someone could see a mirrored image of themselves.  Underneath this was a small metal bin filled with water, so the fighters could wash their face and hands if they were so inclined.

Lyle examined his body.  He had scars on his arms, legs, and torso.  He received most of them from the fights with Felix and the other fighters, from moving too slow in practice, or from other Arena related activities.

         But his body wasn’t all scars; he had caused a few scars on other people, too.  Lyle wasn’t the strongest of the fighters; he wasn’t even remotely close.  But, he was very sinewy.  His muscles were visible on every part of his body. 

His abs and pectoral muscles were large and clearly defined.  His arms, which he used for flying, were of god quality; things of pure, solid muscle.  The muscles in his arms not only helped with flying, but also with his melee weapons.  His leg muscles, though not as strong as his arms, were still quite powerful.  Lyle was a fast runner, which came in handy because he had no ranged weapons. 

Lyle still had very pale skin.  His hair was jet black, eye level, and straight as a pin.  He kept his face closely shaven.  Lyle’s pupils were red just like a raven’s. 

Lyle stretched and rubbed his muscles to wake them up.  He walked over to Phillip’s cot and shook him awake.  As Phillip was stretching and getting up, Lyle went to the wash bin.  He splashed water on to his face and chest. 

There was a knock on the door.  Phillip went to answer the door.  He opened the door and a younger child walked in with their breakfast.  He placed it on the table and left, shutting the door behind him.  Lyle and Phillip walked over to the table and sat down.

“Time to get up and eat, Schnee!” called Lyle.

Schnee stirred in his corner and mumbled, “I am hungry, sir.”  He yawned in the midst of his mumbled sentence.  He glided over to the table.

They sat at the table and ate their breakfast.  Lyle had two rolls and a cut of cured ham.  Phillip had a roll and salad of mixed greens.  Schnee only had a glass of water.

After they were done, Lyle went to his chest and grabbed his key.  When fighters got to a certain age, they were allowed to have a key and a map to the labyrinth of corridors that made up the Arena.  Therefore, they could come and go from their rooms as they pleased.

“I’m going to go practice for this afternoon,” said Lyle, “Do you want to come with?”

“No, mon.  I be needing to study and memorize my spells,” replied Phillip.

“Okay, and if I don’t see you before you go out, then good luck!” said Lyle solemnly. 

         “Good luck to you, too, mon,” said Phillip.

         Lyle put on his leather armor and carried his weapons with him.  He left their room and headed down the corridor.  As he was heading to the Parena to practice, he passed by Felix’s room.  Right at that moment, the door opened.

         Felix was on the other side of the door and when he saw Lyle, he snarled.

         “I hope you live today,” said Felix, “That way, I can kill you later myself!”

         Lyle ignored him and kept on towards the Parena.  He entered the Parena.  Not many people were practicing; only the younger fighters who weren’t old enough to fight in the Games yet.  Lyle headed over to the armory.

         As he entered and placed his things down, he heard a voice calling out to him.  “Hey there, my boy!” someone jollily called.

         Lyle turned around to see Alí walking over to him.  Alí wiped his greasy hands on his apron and spread his arms to hug Lyle.  He embraced Lyle in a strong, suffocating hug.  When Lyle was released, he swallowed a large amount of air.

         “Aww, my boy, good to see you,” said Alí.  “Are you ready for this afternoon?” he asked.

         Lyle nodded his head.

         “Good!” Alí responded.  “Do you want me to sharpen those for you?” he asked, gesturing over to the weapons Lyle laid down.

         “No, I will do it,” Lyle replied.  “I will need a whetstone, though.”

         “Right away,” said Alí as he headed to fetch one.

         Alí has looked the same as he did when Lyle first met him six years ago.  He had a big, boulder chest and strong, muscular arms from working in the armory as a blacksmith.  He wore brown breeches that were greasy, dirty, and burned in some places.  He never wore a shirt, but he did wear an apron when he was working.  He had golden brown skin and short black hair.  His cheeks were always cherry red, because of the heat the furnace emitted and because he was an optimistic person.

         Alí came walking back tossing the whetstone in the air and catching it.  He handed it to Lyle.  “Here you go.  Good luck today.  Hope to see you again in this life,” Alí said.  Alí walked back to the furnace and reasserted himself into shaping a sword.

         Lyle picked up one of his curved knives and sat down on a bench.  He used the whetstone to sharpen each of his blades.  He started at the hilt and pushed it to the tip.  He repeated this multiple times on each side of the blade and on each side of his weapons.

         After this he went back out into the main part of the Parena to practice some.  He laid his weapons on a nearby rack and walked to the center of the Parena.  He shapeshifted into a raven and flew into the air.  He flew higher and higher into the sky.  He rolled, flipped, and practiced other aerial acrobatics.  He dove sharply, then fanned his wings and clawed at the air with his talons.

         Lyle flew over to the Arena, circling because there were no places to land.  The Arena’s sidings and rails were bird-proofed.  They had thin sharp wires, so no bird could land.  In doing this, they insured that no one would get to see the fight for free; you either paid to get in and sit or you tire yourself out flying around.

         Lyle was only here to watch part of the fight.  The crowd chanted and cheered the whole time.  If a blow was landed they cheered and clapped.  If someone missed, they said “aww” in disappointment.  If someone did some sort of magic they had never seen before, then they said “ohh” and “ahh” in wonderment.  When someone was killed, the crowd would go crazy, screaming and cheering for the victor.

         Some men went to the Games to bet on the outcome of the match.  Some men even became rich off the Games.  These men became part of the high-end of society.  The women that went to the Games went either to be with their husbands and children or to enjoy the sight of half-naked men.

         Lyle looked down at the fight as he circled overhead.  He saw a buff young man on his knees.  He had no shirt and he had slashes all over his chest, back, and arms.  His weapon was on the ground at his side.

         Another fighter clad in all black, including a black hood, walked up behind the former man.  Lyle recognized the man standing to be Felix.  Felix put his curved sword to the kneeling man’s throat.  Felix pulled the blade across it, killing his opponent.

         The crowd cheered for Felix.  Felix cut off the little finger of his opponent’s left hand.  He put it in his pocket and stalked out of the Arena.  The crowd was still applauding and cheering for Felix.

         Lyle flew back over to the Parena and landed.  He shapeshifted back into human form.  He walked over to his weapons and placed his armor along side them.  Two hours had passed since Lyle took off earlier.  He was the only one in the Parena; all the training fighters and instructors went to view the Games.  Lyle warmed-up by running around for awhile, doing push-ups, and doing crunches.

         Vincent the Vendor walked into the Parena and called out to Lyle.  “It will be time soon.”

         Lyle looked up from one of his crunches, his chest shiny from sweat, and nodded.  “I’ll be there shortly, Sir Vincent.”

         Vincent left.  Lyle got up and brushed the dirt of his back.  He grabbed his armor and laced it up.  His armor consisted of pants, boots, and a cloak.  His armor was made of dark charred leather.  His cloak was black with a red raven on it.  His chest was left bare so the ladies would love and adore him for his muscular chest.

         Lyle gathered up his weapons.  He put his knives into his belt and carried his scythe in his left hand.  He left the Parena and headed through the corridors to the Arena.

         He walked into the antechamber of the Arena.  The antechamber was located directly below the fighting area of the Arena.  It had three rampways: one back to the House and two to each entrance of the fighting area of the Arena.

         Lyle wasn’t the only one in the antechamber.  There were also some other fighters in there, as well as, Vincent and some instructors.

         Vincent walked over to Lyle.  “Are you ready?” he asked more rhetorical than not.  He led Lyle up one of the rampways into the fight area.  They stopped at a big iron gate manned by two guards.

         Vincent ordered one of the two guards to raise the gate.  “You wait here, Lyle,” Vincent said.  He walked out into the Arena.

         He raised his hands to signal to the crowd to settle down.  When the crowd quieted down, Vincent addressed the crowd.

“The time has come. The time is now,” announced Vincent, “Welcome to the Games!”  The crowd cheered and clapped excitedly.  “Our next battle will be between two beginners.  One is a shapeshifter and the other is a strongman.  Put your hands together for Lyle the Raven and Thor the Hammer.”  The crowd cheered and clapped excitedly.

Lyle and Thor walked out of their individual sides.  They walked out to the center about fifteen feet from each other.  The gates behind them closed, telling them the battle had begun.  They circled around, keeping away from each other.  Lyle examined Thor as they circled.

Thor was not wearing a shirt, thus showing off the tan boulder above his waist that he called a chest.  He also had massive arms, which helped him carry around his hammer.  His hammer was huge; the handle and grip was three feet long.  The handle was made out of silver.  The head of the hammer was a block of white granite that weighed over twenty pounds.  He had brown leather pants and brown tall boots with thick soles.

Thor had a mildly attractive face.  He had short dirty blonde hair and no facial hair.  His eyes were brown as far as Lyle could tell from this distance.

Lyle took deep breaths to calm himself down and to focus his mind on the fight.  The crowd was chanting for the fight to begin.

Thor was holding his hammer with two hands diagonally in front of him.  He charged at Lyle with a battle cry.  His hammer came up to be brought down on Lyle, who rolled out of the way.  Lyle counterattacked at Thor’s feet.  Thor jumped over the swinging blade.  Then, Thor swung his hammer at Lyle.  Lyle threw himself backwards to avoid the head of the hammer.  He landed on his back with his scythe on the ground about two feet out of his reach.  Thor stomped towards the downed Lyle.

Lyle crawled backwards on his back.  Thor swung his hammer at Lyle and it landed with a thud between Lyle’s legs. Lyle shapeshifted into a raven and flew in to the air above Thor.

“Come down, little birdie,” boomed Thor.

Lyle dove at Thor but pulled out of the dive to dodge Thor’s hammer.  With Thor temporarily off-balance, Lyle flew at Thor’s head.  He clawed at Thor’s face.  One of Lyle’s talons raked across Thor’s left eye, scratching through the cornea. Thor screamed out in agony and dropped his hammer to bat Lyle away. 

Lyle flew away and landed some ten feet from Thor, who was grabbing his eye in agony.  Lyle shapeshifted back into human form and pulled out his curved knives.  He walked toward Thor, who was still preoccupied.

The crowd was cheering.  Some cheered for Lyle.  They kept chanting, “Raven.”  Others were yelling at Thor, trying to get him to pay attention to Lyle, who was getting closer.

Lyle was about to stab Thor, but Thor saw him out of his good eye and tackled him to the ground.  Thor had Lyle pinned down by his shoulders.  He punched Lyle hard a few times in the head.  Lyle slashed at Thor’s forearms with his knives.

Thor lost his dominance over Lyle, and Lyle rolled them over so he was on top.  He put his knives on Thor’s neck and swiftly pulled them across, cutting deep.

Thor coughed up blood and groped at Lyle as if he could save him now.  Lyle rose and gathered up his items: his cloak and his scythe.  He left out of the gate that opened for him. He walked past Vincent who congratulated Lyle. 

The crowd was going crazy for Lyle.  The men exchanged their bets, the women fanned themselves in the heat, and the children cheered and pretended to fight. 

The Raven had won.





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Ch. 6 Lady Night

         After the fight with the Hammer, Lyle went back to his room and collapsed on his cot, exhausted.  He managed to toss his weapons and his armor somewhere near the rack.  Lyle thought he saw Phillip passed out on the other cot, but was too tired to look.  Lyle drifted off into a restful slumber.

         Lyle woke up the next day to breakfast being brought into his room.  He sat up under the one flimsy cover on the bed and gathered in his surroundings.  He saw a silhouette of a person take the tray of food from the food boy.  The silhouette placed the tray on the table and sat down.

         “Look who be up, mon!” said the familiar voice.  “Food be here, mon.  Glad be I that you alive.”

         Lyle got up from his cot and sat down on the other stool.  He ate slowly for he was still sore and a bit shaken from the day before.  He was also relieved to see that Phillip was still alive and unscathed.

         Phillip was equally thrilled that Lyle had survived the first round of the Games.  He, himself, had had a tough fight with a beserking troll.  He won narrowly by distracting the troll with Schnee and stabbing his frosted dagger into its back.  The enchanted dagger froze the troll from the inside out.

         Phillip came back to the room after his fight and collapsed on his cot with Schnee trailing behind him.  Using magic drains a significant amount of energy and stamina.

         After eating, both young men got up to stretch and get all the kinks out of their bodies.  They spent the rest of the day lounging on their cots and sharing their individual stories about their fights the day before.  They didn’t have to practice today, because they had fought in the Games the day prior and because of the particular religion this town believed in; this was the day of rest.

         Over the next week, their daily routine didn’t change from the usual flow of events.  They got up every morning and practiced in the Parena throughout the day.  Felix and Lyle still fought, but only verbally.  They had outgrown the fighting stage.

         Lyle and Phillip felt less sore as the days went by.  They honed their skills with each passing day, preparing for their second fights in a few days.

         Saturday came quickly.  The air was thick with anticipation.  Lyle and Phillip sat in their room waiting to be called to the Arena.  Phillip was reading through his spells, mumbling to himself.  Lyle was sharpening his weapons for the seventh time that morning.  He was extremely antsy; his nerves had shaken him like a parent does to a disrespectful child.

         Phillip was fetched around midday.  Lyle wished him luck as he left.  The day continued to roll on and Lyle still hadn’t been fetched.  He paced the room for hours on end.

         Finally, the door opened.  But Sir Vincent didn’t walk in, instead it was Phillip and Schnee.  Lyle was grateful that they were still alive and not badly injured.

         Phillip and Schnee were both worn out.  Phillip climbed onto his cot, Schnee dragged himself to his corner, and they were both quickly asleep.  Lyle continued to pace the room for a while longer, and then decided to take a short nap before he was fetched to the Arena.  As soon as her drifted to sleep, he was awoken by Vincent shaking him, none to gently.

         “Finally,” breathed Lyle.

         “Yes, now hurry it up,” ordered Vincent.

Lyle quickly gathered his armor and weapons and followed Vincent through the labyrinth.  They stopped at the same gate as the last time.  Vincent ordered the two guards to open the gate, and he strode out into the center of the Arena.

         He addressed the crowd.  “Welcome! Ladies and Gentlemen,” Vincent said, drawling out each word, “to this unique opportunity.  This…is our first chance in years to have the Games at night.  Tonight, you will indulge on the pleasure of watching two young adults battle to the death in the Arena.  Our two brave fighters are the Raven,” boomed Vincent in his arena voice, “and Anika Silver, the Lady Night!”

         The gates rose on both sides of the Arena.  Lyle strode out in his black leather pants and shirtless upper body with his cloak tied around his neck.  His scythe was strung across his back and his knives hooked on his belt.  His boots were tied up and he had his being in between his toes on his right foot.

         Out of the gate opposite of Lyle came a young lady.  Lyle couldn’t see her face as she was looking at the ground and her hair covered her face.  She had jet black hair that shone like the full moon.  It flowed to her chest, full and sleek.  Her skin was as white as freshly fallen snow on a cold winter’s day.

         As for clothing, she wore little of it.  All she wore were black leather shorts that barely covered her butt and another strip of black leather to cover her breasts.

         Both Lyle and Anika strode to the center of the Arena about five feet from each other.  Lyle was caught off guard when Anika walked up to him, hand outstretched to shake hands.

         She had also stopped looking at the ground and looked deeply into Lyle’s eyes.  She had a beautiful face and complexion.  Her ears, cheeks, chin, and eyes were perfect.  Lyle couldn’t stop staring at her beautiful eyes.  They were just so bright and cheery.  How could he possibly hurt something so beautiful?

         Lyle couldn’t seem to control his movements; he walked forward to shake hands.  He was somehow possessed.  He couldn’t stop staring into her eyes.  As he clasped her outstretched hand, he was awoken to reality.  Her hand was freezing, almost dead frozen.  Lyle was now able to look away from her eyes.

         “Hello…Lyle,” Anika hissed, lingering on his name.  “My name isss Anika Sssilver, but you can just call me either Anika or Lady Night, like everyone elssse.”  Whenever she talked, she seemed to stress the letter s like a snake.

         They were still shaking hands but before Lyle could remove his hand, Anika flipped him over her.  He landed squarely on his back, driving the breath from him.  Anika walked around to the front and looked down at him with a smirk on her face.

         “The firssst rule in a fight isss to never trussst your opponent,” she hissed and laughed to herself.

         Lyle sat up slowly and looked up Anika, still laughing.  She no longer looked beautiful, in reality, she looked rather bland.  Her cheeks were no longer just the right color red, nor were they full.  They were gaunt and starved looking.  Her nose was no longer straight and perfect, but slightly crooked.  Her smirk was crooked and her fangs protruded.  Her black hair had lost its luster and her eyes no longer sparkled.  She didn’t look ugly, but she was definitely no goddess of beauty like before.

         Anika skipped all around Lyle as he was rising to his feet.  He stumbled a little when he got to a full standing position.

         She stopped in front of him and asked, “Are you ready yet? You big sssissssy!”

         Lyle held up his index finger to tell her he still needed a minute.  He was hunched over, still trying to catch his breath.

         Anika drew one of the sickles at her belt.  She jumped and spun in the air; as she landed next to Lyle, she drove the hilt of her sickle into his hunched back.  Lyle plopped to the ground with such a force, that the breath was knocked out of him again.

         Anika laughed again.  “The sssecond rule isss alwaysss assssume that your opponent won’t give you time to recover.  You are a fun perssson to fight, you know.  Ssso naïve and helplessss.  Will you try to make thisss fight interesssting?  I do enjoy a challenge.”

         Lyle crawled over to his scythe that had fallen off earlier in the fight.  Anika recognized his intention and lithely moved over to his scythe.  Right when Lyle was about to grasp his scythe, Anika kicked it away.

         “Ah! Ah! Ah!” she said, shaking a finger at him.

         As Lyle looked up at her from his crawling position, she kicked his jaw, and he flipped over onto his back again.  He was knocked breathless yet again.  Anika laughed loudly because of the fun she was having with tormenting Lyle.

         “The third rule isss,” Anika said, “never rely sssolely on weaponsss.  Try usssing your handsss.”

         Lyle stood up and came at Anika.  He punched at her face, her chest, and her stomach.  Anika easily parried and blocked his punches.  She punched Lyle a few times; each time she hit his jaw or his nose.

         Blood started to pour out of his nose and his jaw was bruised.  He still continued to try and punch and kick Anika to no avail.  Not only did she manage to block every punch and kick, but also to land a few on Lyle.

         Anika got the better of Lyle and he landed on the ground.  Anika laughed aloud with joy; she really enjoyed fighting Lyle.

         Lyle quickly rolled away from Anika.  He started to shapeshift.  His feet turned orange, wrinkled, and shorter.  The jet black color from his hair spread over his entire body.  His skin flaked and fluffed itself into feathers.  His nose stretched and turned orange. His red eyes stayed red but grew beadier.

         Lyle, now a raven, cawed loudly at Anika.  She snickered at him in a challenging way.

         Lyle propelled himself into the air.  Anika lithely ran at him.  She jumped into the air, snatched his leg, and dragged him to the ground.  She placed her foot on his smallish body and pinned Lyle to the ground.  She laughed yet again at the weakness of her opponent.

         Lyle, pinned beneath Anika’s foot, struggled in vain to get away from her.

         “My lassst rule iss never run away from a fight!” said Anika.  She released her foot from his chest. “Now come on and fight me, you motherlessss ssswine!”

         Lyle shifted back into a human and rose to his feet.  He brushed himself off and secretly pulled out one of his curved knives.

         He strode over to her with his empty hand outstretched.  “How about a fair fight then?” Lyle asked.

         She walked over to him and clasped his hand.  As quick as a viper biting its prey, Lyle dragged his knife blade across her open wrist.  The blood immediately rushed out of the wound; Anika withdrew from him with a hiss, clutching her slit wrist.

         “The first rule is never trust your opponent,” mocked Lyle.

         Before Anika could react, Lyle maneuvered behind her and raked his knives across her back in a crisscrossing manner.  He quickly rolled away before Anika could counterattack with the sickle in her good hand.

         She faced him with a grimacing and evil look on her face.  Her hair was plastered to her face from exertion.  Her right hand was red and wet with blood that still poured from her wrist.

         “The second rule is never expect your opponent to give you time to recover,” Lyle mocked again.

         Anika came at Lyle with vengeance in her eyes.  She swung her sickle at Lyle; he easily ducked out of the way.  Lyle kicked the sickle out of her hand and it slide across the dirt.

         Lyle threw his knives on the ground.  He punched her face and kneed her gut.  From the knee to the stomach, Anika doubled over.  Lyle swiftly followed suit with a kick to the face.  Anika flipped backwards onto her back.

         “The third rule is never rely solely on weapons,” said Lyle.

         Anika quickly rolled over and ran towards her sickle.  Luckily, Lyle’s scythe was at his feet; he picked it up and followed after her.

         Just when Anika got near her weapon, Lyle jumped with scythe over his head in a downward strike.  The blade pierced through her back and out the middle of her chest, dripping with blood.  Anika gasped as the blade split her body. She slumped off the blade, dead. 

         “The last rule is never run away from a fight,” said Lyle.

         The crowd erupted with cheers and applause.  “Raven! Raven! Raven!” roared the crowd repeatedly.

         Lyle collapsed to his knees from exhaustion.  He closed his eyes and basked in the glory and applause.