by Stefon Mears
But Cavan would have recognized the crossed scars on the man’s left cheek anywhere. No one else was said to have them, or at least none so jagged. And he had a dangerous look to his eyes.
Kolsach wore a chain hauberk with sleeves, and leggings to match, tucked into heavy, calf-high boots. No helm for him, though. His long brown hair was tied back in a braid behind his head.
And he didn’t carry a sword. He carried the weapon that Kolsach had made himself famous for using. Siegebreaker: a huge warhammer. Blunted on the top, squared on one side and a spike on the reverse.
Amra tutted. Smacked Reesa’s jerkin. “You knew you were facing a man who fights with a warhammer and you wore this? Are you clothed beneath it?”
Reesa nodded, her eyes still on Kolsach.
“Come on then,” Amra said, hurrying to get the leather jerkin off of Reesa. “Won’t do you much good against that thing, and it’ll slow you down. Especially since you’re obviously not used to wearing it.”
Underneath the leather jerkin, Reesa wore Cavan’s red tunic. The one he’d worn to the feast. Left behind in his rush last night. A sight that made him smile. The tunic was too big for her, but with the sleeves pinned high and the torso bound at her waist by her sword belt, it wouldn’t hinder her as that jerkin would have.
“He can swing that thing fast, but it’s beastly heavy,” Amra advised Reesa, quietly. “Keep moving and you may get him off-balance. Stop moving and you’re an easy target.”
“Cavan Oltblood,” Draig called out. “This is your last opportunity to be a man and fight to defend your own honor. Do not hide behind—”
“If you don’t think women can fight, Draig,” Amra bellowed in her command voice, and Cavan could practically hear the warning flutter of her eyelashes, “I’ll be more than happy to give you a personal lesson right here in front of everyone.”
“Behind my daughter,” Draig said, refusing to look at Amra, or even away from Cavan. “This is our fight. Let it be done properly.”
“This is my fight,” Reesa said, steel coming into her voice once more. “It was I who seduced him, Father. As I told you last night.” Reesa gave the crowd a moment to recover from that proclamation before continuing. “If you feel that my deed dishonored the family, then it is only right that I defend my actions.”
“Reesa—” Draig started, but Reesa drew her swords and clashed them together up high to drown out his objection.
She spoke louder then, loud enough for the whole crowd to hear, voice brimming with righteous anger.
“But I am still your daughter, and I cannot take up arms against my own father. If you will fight for yourself, then I will have no choice but to let Cavan fight this duel. As he is eager to do.”
Cavan let his lips stretch in a wicked smile. “More than eager.”
“You know the town law forbids it,” Draig replied.
“The whole of the Council of Drien is here to witness,” Reesa continued, “and these are unusual circumstances. If they vote here and now to allow their Speaker the honor of fighting for himself in this single instance, then you cannot hide behind the law.”
“It is not proper for me to fight a duel,” Draig said. “And I have no need to ask, to know that the Council feels the same way.”
Cavan thought that a few members of the Council might have disagreed, to judge by a few sour expressions, but said nothing.
“The law makes clear that the town champion must fight any challenges involving the Speaker, or any of the Council,” Draig continued. “But there is no reason to risk yourself in this fight, Reesa. Set down your swords. Give up your dreams of action and adventure, and be the proper daughter you were raised to be. We may still find a good life for you.”
“If you will not fight for yourself,” Reesa said, “then with Cavan’s permission, I shall defend the actions that I initiated.”
Reesa looked at Cavan, and this time there was no question in her look. She was demanding that Cavan allow her to fight this duel.
Cavan hated sending her against a foe like Kolsach, but he nodded.
“I like her,” Amra said. “Can’t say I think much of her taste in men, but she does have spirit.”
“You mean you and Cavan never…” Qalas let the question trail off.
“Please,” Amra said. “He’s got some muscle, but he’s too skinny for me. I like my men with more power to their build. Cavan’s too much a wizard and not enough a warrior. And he has only the three scars.”
“The one below his collarbone is impressive though,” Ehren said.
“Granted, but—”
The drums sounded again.
“A kiss for your champion?” Reesa asked, tension raising her pitch again. Sweat already beaded on her forehead, despite the cool of the morning air.
“Of course,” Cavan said, and he gave her the only present he could offer.
A deep and meaningful kiss.
Reesa dropped her swords and clutched Cavan as though worried that this might be the final kiss of her life. So if it were, Cavan did his best to make that kiss a good one.
Ehren stepped into the circle and repeated his morning prayers aloud for the crowd, in the tongue of ancient Penthix. Morning prayers that the priest had already made by the first rays of dawn, as he did every day.
Whether Ehren did that because he knew Drien to revere Zatafa, or to give Cavan and Reesa a little more time, Cavan could not have guessed. But either way, he was grateful.
As Ehren’s final prayed ended with a dramatic crescendo, the drums sounded once more.
It was time for the duel to begin.
Cavan’s whole nervous system felt as though it were trying to fight the duel for Reesa. Or perhaps had fought a dozen duels already, by the early light of the late summer morning.
His heart was pounding, and his stomach felt as though it might reject that breakfast sausage Ehren had brought him from the inn.
The sun was still rising, and the sky still orange and red, as Reesa and Kolsach took their assigned places, a good dozen paces apart within the circle set by the town watch.
Kolsach frowned as though he considered this duel beneath him. Or perhaps he found it distasteful to duel with Reesa. Or perhaps he did not think she would offer him enough sport.
Or perhaps there was some other cause. Cavan simply didn’t know the man. Still. Cavan had trouble ascribing nobility to the ex-mercenary.
Among the crowd, vendors had already begun to circulate, offering ales and selections of roast meats for those who had not yet broken their fasts.
Kolsach twirled his hammer in a complicated form of salute.
Reesa clashed her twin swords above her head in her own salute.
Draig was talking to the Council, but they were all shaking their heads.
“A moment,” Draig called, and accompanied whatever he said now with significant gestures.
A wrinkled, silver-haired woman on the Council stepped forward. Cavan could almost hear her words, sharp and high and a little creaky, but firm enough.
Whatever reply Draig hoped to hear, he wasn’t getting it.
The crowd had already begun chanting for their favorites. And though the chants for Kolsach were strong, Cavan was pleased at the number of people chanting Reesa’s name.
Though a number of those people shot dirty looks at Cavan, as though he’d been afraid to fight Kolsach.
“Enough delays,” Kolsach bellowed. “For the honor of Drien, let us begin!”
Draig tried to yell something, but whatever he would have said was drowned out by the roar of the crowd.
Cavan tried to join in chanting for Reesa, but his nerves were against it. Especially with Amra and Qalas discussing the duel as it took place.
Kolsach leapt forward, bringing his warhammer around in a mighty swing, low enough to sweep Reesa’s legs out from under her.
But Reesa was nimble. She leapt over the blow. Slashed out at Kolsach with both blades.
Alas, her swords only boun
ced off the mail of his chest.
But then she was behind him. Twirling and bringing both swords around again in a unified strike.
This time her blades were blocked by the handle of Kolsach’s hammer.
“I thought it was too much to hope the handle was all wood,” Amra said.
“Are you kidding?” Qalas said. “A handle that long for a hammer that heavy, it needs more support than most woods can give.”
“Of course, this close to the Wailing Woods,” Amra countered, “it could be all wood. If forest elves supplied it. Those trees are something else.”
Cavan stepped away from the banter of his friends. Kept his focus on the dodging and weaving of Reesa. She kept herself a step or two ahead of that warhammer, but the blows were coming too close for Cavan’s comfort.
“One shot from that thing and it’s over,” he muttered. Kolsach was simply too strong. And he kept that warhammer moving all too fast.
“If so,” Ehren said, keeping his voice quiet, “I’ll make sure she’s not crippled for life. Don’t worry.”
“If her father allows you to heal her. He seems the type to use this to teach her a lesson.”
Before Ehren could reply, the crowd oohed.
Kolsach shifted the angle of a swing at the last instant. Caught one of Reesa’s ankles.
Fortunately, she was in the air at the time, attempting to leap again over that deadly warhammer. So at least some of the blow was mitigated.
Still, the force of the swing spun her and threw her to the cobblestones. She landed with a grunt of pain, but she didn’t act as though it were the first time she were ever struck.
Already she gathered herself.
“Well named,” Ehren muttered, which reminded Cavan that Reesa was the name of an ancient Rentissi warrior queen.
“I hope you’re right,” Cavan whispered back.
Kolsach came in with his weapon’s handle, stabbing downward at the prone woman.
Reesa rolled aside. Swung her own swords with all the force she could muster from the ground.
Not much, but enough. Cavan saw Kolsach wince as both blades slammed against the mail coating his right forearm, one and then the other, no more than two finger-widths apart.
Kolsach was right-handed. Those blows might slow his attacks a little, if she were lucky.
Cavan hoped Reesa’s luck was better than his own. He bit the inside of his cheek, as though what good luck he had could be transferred to her.
Reesa was back on her feet now, but clearly favoring her hurt left foot. Uncertainty in her eyes.
Kolsach saw that. Grinned as though his triumph were at hand. Spoke to her, in a low voice. Taunts, to judge from his expression.
Whatever he said, Reesa didn’t like it. The fear on her face was replaced by the fury Cavan had seen the night before, when she’d turned on her father. And she spat words of her own right back at Kolsach.
The next strike came in high. Reesa had no trouble ducking under it. More than that, she used the momentum. Swung the sword in her right hand. Aiming for the same place she’d hit his arm before.
The mail might have kept her blades from cutting his arm off, but they wouldn’t stop the shock of the blow. No doubt he would have bruises from her efforts, once the fight was done.
But her blows were not solid enough to stop muscles like Kolsach’s, unfortunately. He winced at the strike, but his control of the mighty warhammer seemed just as sure as it had before.
He started pacing around her. Making her limp in place, turning to face him.
“She needs to keep moving,” Amra said, frowning. “Even if it hurts.”
“Perhaps she’s saving her ankle for a desperate move,” Qalas suggested.
“If so, she’d better do it soon.”
Kolsach feinted twice, then thrust forward with the mallet of his hammer. The feints had thrown Reesa’s balance off, and the thrust was too unexpected for her, inexperienced as she was.
The blow struck her ribs solidly. Drove her back. She fell backward into a roll that took her clear of Kolsach’s follow-up, a swing that might have taken her life.
Cavan didn’t like the change in Kolsach’s demeanor. His movements. The man looked to be treating this as a duel to the death now.
Whatever the two had discussed there in the center of the dueling ring, Kolsach had clearly been infuriated by Reesa’s words.
Reesa found her feet again in time to dive to her left and somersaulted to avoid another blow. Impressive, the way she could handle twin short swords through rolls and somersaults.
But Kolsach was pressing harder now.
“That’s it,” Amra said, voice low and tense. “Keep him moving. You’ve gotten in his head. Use it, girl, use it.”
“Do you really think she has?” Qalas asked, but Amra was too focused on the way Reesa kept diving, rolling and spinning to answer.
But that blow to the chest she’d taken. Every roll made her grimace in pain. And already her face had gone white as first frost.
Cavan had to hope Amra was right. And that Reesa would figure out how to turn Kolsach’s rage to her advantage.
Soon.
Kolsach’s swings were getting wilder now. Taking him more off balance each time. He clearly had no fear of a counterattack, and wanted a decisive blow.
The crowd’s chanting swelled. More and more seeming to want the fight over, even if agreement wasn’t universal about who should win.
Kolsach seemed to be speaking as he kept swinging. But Cavan couldn’t see Reesa’s face from his angle. Had no way to know if she taunted the ex-mercenary right back, or merely held her tongue and kept moving.
But then it happened.
Reesa somersaulted right past the spot Cavan had pointed out to her. The spot where the cobblestones were most uneven.
Kolsach was too fixated on his own rage to notice the dip.
He came in hard with a swing, but he got his footing wrong. He went down just as Reesa hobbled to her feet.
She had one opportunity as he started to rise.
She took it.
Reesa brought the flats of both her blades hard against Kolsach’s unprotected face, one from each side.
Kolsach, stunned, could only teeter and shake his head as Reesa hopped one-footed to stand behind him.
He could scarcely move, save a reflexive raising of his warhammer.
But the move was automatic. And too late to stop the next blows.
Reesa slammed the flats of both blades against the soft spot at the base of Kolsach’s skull. One right after the other.
He went down like a felled tree.
Reesa quickly kicked the warhammer away from him. Then swore loud enough to be heard clear across the Dwarfmarches and fell to the cobblestones, because she’d kicked with the wrong foot.
She used the hilts of her swords to help herself back to a standing position.
Kolsach stirred. Tried to raise his head. A slow movement. Unsteady. He tried to shake his head and winced.
Hopping on one foot now, she stood over Kolsach, between him and his warhammer. Put both her blades against his throat.
The crowd grew quiet. Not even chanting her name now.
Cavan heard her next words.
“Yield or die.”
Kolsach glared at her. Looked to be gauging the distance to her ankles.
Reesa pressed the edges of her swords tighter, pinning his head to the cobblestones, and drawing dripping red lines on both sides of his throat.
“I say again. Yield or die.”
Kolsach dropped his head in defeat.
“I yield!”
For a moment, the whole of the town square seemed frozen in place. The crowd surrounding the just-ended duel. The ring of town watchmen, holding them back. The Council of Drien at the head of the circle.
Even Cavan and his friends, at the foot of the circle.
But Master Powys had always said, Time is a tool. It must serve the wizard, or the wizard will serve it.
Cavan might have failed his apprenticeship to that great wizard. But that did not mean he’d failed all his lessons.
So even in that seemingly frozen moment, Cavan was able to perceive the whole of the world around him.
The morning breeze, gentle now, but showing signs that it would grow strong by noon and bring rain clouds by evening.
The glistening gold of early morning sun, in a sky still prying its daily blue from the purples of night through their war of orange.
The wrest birds singing their eight-note trills. Their small black-feathered bodies circling in hope of blood, or at least the trash left by the crowd when it departed.
Draig. The old man torn between emotions Cavan could not quite parse. But he looked to be settling on anger.
The Council surrounding Draig. Most with faces schooled to show no reactions at all — those who had spent their youths as farmers, tradesmen, and merchants, mainly — and several with eyes flaring with triumph. Though whether they celebrated Reesa’s victory over Kolsach, or a loss of honor for Draig at the defeat of his champion, Cavan could not guess.
Cavan noted an older woman on the Council, standing to one side, who looked thoroughly upset about the turn of events. He noted her graying chestnut hair and slender, elegant build, and most of all the short, single scar on the left side of her chin. She dressed in breeches and tunic, with a slender sword of her own at her hip.
That woman only looked away from Kolsach to stare hatred at Reesa.
Kolsach lay limp on the ground, not bothering to try to rise just yet.
And Reesa. No triumph in her expression, but Cavan understood. Triumph would likely come later. For now, only dull unreality and a grimace of pain.
It was Reesa who broke that frozen moment.
She collapsed.
Cavan was past the town watch before they could think to try to stop him. Amra right beside him. Ehren hot on their heels, and Qalas a few steps behind.
The crowd roared, cheering the victor and seemingly unconcerned that she’d collapsed.
Cavan reached for Reesa, but Ehren interposed his goldenwood staff.