Chapter Two #2
This feels right. Familiar. Weapon in hand, exchanging barbs with Val, facing an opponent whose every move I can predict, no frantic missives from the borders or crises to answer this moment.
I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders.
Now isn’t the time to worry about how few of the guards obeyed my command to join us, nor their disinterest in watching this match.
Most soldiers would salivate at the opportunity to watch their superiors get down in the dirt with them, but these men are not most soldiers.
“Not the audience we were hoping for, huh?” Val calls from thirty paces away.
He’s always been too good at seeing to the heart of matters, knowing what I’m thinking without me having to voice it. It makes him a great advisor and friend. It also makes him an enormous pain in the ass.
Without warning, I lower my shoulders and charge at him, the ground trembling with my heavy footfalls. I raise the mace over my head, preparing to strike, and at the last possible moment, he dodges, slashing out with one of his blades.
The mace slams into the ground, shattering ice and wood alike, and sparks trail from Val’s blade where it scrapes across my spikes.
“Good to see that armor of yours hasn’t gone soft,” he quips, baiting me into following him toward the side of the arena with more debris.
I swing the mace again, cutting off his retreat.
“Where you running to?” I taunt. I might be bigger and stronger than him, but he’s quick, agile. If I let him get to uneven ground, I’ll lose my advantage.
“What? Tired already?” he shoots back, dancing from one foot to the other, his tail flicking behind him.
I swing again, he dips below my swing, and then stumbles back into a fallen pillar, taller than him even on its side.
“No,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him while I lift my mace for the final blow, chest heaving and forming clouds of mist from my breath. “Just wondering if you’re taking it easy on me now that I’m king.”
The spark in Val’s eye tells me I’m wrong.
“Why would I do that?” he asks, one arm extended, his sword keeping me at a distance while a throwing dagger shines from his other hand. Quick as a whip, he flicks the dagger, and it sails past me whistling through the air to embed in an arch above.
“Your aim is off,” I say, but before I can bring my mace down, there’s a loud crack above.
“Is it?” Val laughs, leaping out of the way as masonry rains down on me.
By the time the dust clears and I’m able to see again, he’s on top of the huge pillar, throwing daggers in both hands.
Damn. With the high ground, Valenar is a deadly opponent, and his daggers keep me weaving and dancing across the frozen ground like he’s pulling me by invisible strings.
He moves along the top of the pillar, skipping over cracks and hurdles with glee.
He’s not aiming to strike me, only to corral me.
And it’s a game I’ve had enough of. Luckily, he’s having too much fun to notice—or he’s too cocky to care—when he’s landed himself on a precarious ledge.
Seeing my chance, I plant my feet and brace.
One of the daggers grazes my arm, drawing blood and a roar from deep within. Val wasn’t expecting to hit me, and that moment of surprise is all I need to regain the upper hand. While his eyes are widening in shock, I hurl my mace, sending it end over end towards his feet.
The mace slams into the ledge, cracking it in two and forcing Val to leap off. He tries to recover, twisting in midair, his tail grasping for the haft of my mace, but he only manages to bring it down with him, the ground around it shattering as he lands in a crouch.
With a hearty tug, he tries to free my mace from where it’s embedded in the ground, but it’s not budging.
“Watch those sticky fingers,” I warn him—the only notice he gets before I charge in with my fists. He dodges one punch, then another. “You know they get you in trouble.” I land a hook to his side, and he staggers with a grunt.
Snarling, he abandons my mace, ducking under my next swing to slide between my legs, popping up behind me.
Quick as I can, I yank the mace free of its crater and spin to Val, lifting my weapon for a strike—
Not quick enough. Val’s crossed blades meet my mace, blocking the strike but sending him backwards, boots sliding across the ice.
For a moment, we’re both crouched, recovering, our heavy breath clouding the space around us. Val grins.
“Feeling better yet?”
I grumble, tightening my grip on the mace. “Not even close.”
Val’s grin grows, and it’s the only warning I have before he launches a new flurry of blows at me.
I block, block again, parry, block—he’s too damn fast, and those dual blades are more than my mace can keep up with.
He dodges my swing, then drops to the ground and rolls out of my reach, popping up to launch a dagger at me.
I raise my arm to shield my face, and the dagger glances off my armored elbow, breaking the point off one of my spikes.
The air around me steams as the fire within rises, glowing embers peeking through the gaps of my spiked armor.
Val scoffs. “Now you’re just showing off.”
I look around the ring, taking in the mix of mild interest and complete lack of interest, and curse Farandir for his spineless leadership and the feckless lot of guards it’s produced.
My eyes back to Val, we seem to have the same unspoken thought: let’s give them something to be excited about.
Drawing up on the last reserves of my strength, I raise my mace for the final charge. I’m a heartbeat away from connecting with him when Val vaults off a nearby column, somersaulting over and behind me.
Before I’ve got a chance to respond to the quick flip, he’s got a dagger pressed to my side, wedged between a gap in my armor. Then there’s another at my throat, held by his tail.
“Yield,” he demands, pressing the dagger against my side hard enough that there’s no mistaking he’s found a soft spot.
I let my shoulders sag, giving him half a second to believe he’s won.
Then, with a quickness I’m sure even he has to admire, I raise my foot and slam my heel down, shattering the layer of ice underfoot.
The force of it is enough to shoot the ice shards into the air, which instantly turns to steam around me.
Using that moment of confusion, I grab Val’s wrist, pulling his dagger away from my side and hauling him up over my shoulder.
The momentum of the move sends us both tumbling to the ground, landing hard.
Steam hisses around us as my inner fire radiates out, slowly dissipating as one beat of silence stretches into another.
The mist finally clears, and we’re both on our backs, staring up at the bare skeleton of Crownwood and the endless gray skies beyond.
“Call it a draw?” Val offers, chest still heaving.
I groan, pulling myself upright before lending him a hand. “Call it a warm-up.”
Val’s answering bark of laughter rings through the frozen coliseum, rousing some of the guards to exchange glances. Glances turn to murmurs, and then there’s a smattering of cheers and applause, a fraction of the men beginning to thaw towards me.
It’s not much, but it’s a start.