Chapter 10 #3
“Warrior against warrior,” Jorius murmured beside me, leaning close enough that only I could hear. “The sabers fight each other. The warriors fight each other. They don’t cross.” His mouth twisted. “Otherwise it would be over too quickly. The Imperator prefers a longer spectacle.”
“They’re not allowed to protect each other? What happens if one of them is about to die? They’ve trained together their entire lives.”
“I know, it’s brutal. Didn’t Elion tell you? If one of them dies, the bond dies with it. Their magic… it just disappears. There’s nothing left to fight for,” he said.
“He didn’t…” I whispered.
Below us, Kharos shifted, his muscles rolling beneath his sleek coat.
Across the sands, Syrath mirrored him. Worry stirred in me.
Kharos hadn’t chosen this. He’d been bred into it.
It was a shame such a magnificent animal was forced into this.
My eyes drifted toward Thanor. Was he the same?
I pushed the thought aside as the Maw seemed to hold its breath, the tension climbing.
Then Kharos broke first.
He surged forward in a blur of black fur.
His paws tore across the sand as Syrath answered in kind.
The two of them collided at the center with a thunderous impact.
Their fangs snapped and clashed, jaws closing on air and fur as they twisted and leapt, each trying to catch the other by the throat, by the fang—anywhere that would end it fast.
Sand sprayed around their paws, the force of their leaps ripping low, savage growls from their throats.
Titus was still playing to the crowd, arms raised—
When Thanor moved. Not rushed. More of a prowl. He advanced with measured intent, axes turning slowly in his hands, his stare fixed entirely on the warrior.
Titus turned, expecting distance. For the first time, his grin faltered. Thanor didn’t rush him. He closed the space without urgency, his face a cold mask.
Titus adjusted instinctively. He lifted his shield and widened his stance before raising his sword, yet he struggled to reclaim his earlier bravado.
Then Thanor accelerated. The shift was sudden. Violent. Sand scattered beneath his boots as he broke into a sprint, closing the distance in heartbeats.
The crowd surged to its feet, their roar cresting—
As he leapt.
He rose high, his body coiling midair with lethal precision, both axes lifting as one. When he came down, he brought them crashing against Titus’s raised shield in a brutal, synchronized strike.
The impact rang through the Maw like a struck bell.
Titus staggered under the force as his boots carved trenches in the sand. He was driven back, his shield buckling beneath the weight of the blow.
Thanor didn’t relent. He pressed his advantage with predatory precision.
Titus’s retreat ended hard as his back slammed into the wall. I flinched as a group of iron-pierced spectators scrambled to move out of the way.
He snarled and surged forward, smashing his shield into Thanor’s axes with brute force. The impact cracked harsh and jarring, driving him half a step to the side—
Just enough.
Titus twisted free, rolling out of the corner and coming up behind him in one motion, his blade arcing wide.
Thanor turned just in time, before the blade could find his back. Both axes crossed before his face as steel met steel with a shriek that set my teeth on edge.
Titus barely had time to recover before Thanor stepped in, closing the space between them entirely.
His elbow snapped upward, connecting with his opponent’s jaw with a sickening crack.
Titus’s head whipped back as blood burst free. It scattered across the sand along with a spray of shattered teeth, and I flinched.
The crowd, however, erupted. They roared in a frenzy that shook the stands.
I had seen Thanor fight without Kharos. This was different. It didn’t feel like one mind moving. On the other side of the Maw the sabers collided again, and I leaned closer to the rail. They circled each other, pacing and feinting in predatory synchrony.
Kharos struck first.
One swipe of his claw raked across Syrath’s back. Fur and blood flew into the stands as the blow landed clean.
Syrath answered with a furious snarl as he launched himself onto Kharos’s back.
His weight crashed down as his fangs snapped, searching for purchase.
They rolled together as the sand churned beneath them.
But Kharos twisted with practiced efficiency and shrugged him off in a violent surge of strength.
Once free, he didn’t lose momentum. He drove forward and clamped his jaws around Syrath’s hind leg. His teeth sank deep with ruthless precision.
Syrath’s roar tore through the Maw—raw and agonized.
The cry was brutal, and Titus flinched. It was only for a heartbeat—a slight hitch in his movement, but it was enough. His balance faltered, and his focus snapped toward his saber as the cry of pain echoed.
Thanor noticed and didn’t hesitate.
Beside me, Jorius sucked in a breath, then shouted above the roar of the crowd. “That’s a brutal mistake.” Grim satisfaction threaded his tone as he added, “A warrior should always trust their saber to win its own fight.”
I stayed fixed on the pair as he continued. “The moment your focus drifts, you die.”
Below us, the distance between the two warriors vanished again. Thanor moved the instant the opening appeared. He feinted left—then right—his axes flashing long enough to draw Titus’s guard where it didn’t belong.