After they discussed a few minor details, Hanna stood and gave him a grim smile. “I do not believe you are a good person, Lord Talarys. But you are the right person for this problem. I give you my word that I will not betray you or speak ill of you regarding this duel, no matter what comes of it.”
She didn’t cast any contract on herself, but the gravity of her words weighed as heavily as if she had. Hanna was reliable, Rys felt.
Several days passed. Grigor left to handle military affairs in the region, leaving Rys to manage the duel by himself. Just in case, he sent Vallis away.
When dawn came four days after he met Hanna, a horse and three ponies approached the manor. Barul led three Kinadain elders up the road. Supposedly, these three represented the largest dains in the region. Hanna claimed they were the worst of a bad lot.
Maria wasn’t present, of course. She had helped organize the duel, but attending was a faux pas. The Kinadain didn’t want an outsider present, as laughable as that description was when it came to Maria.
Instead, Rys greeted Barul and the elders with only Hanna and Fara next to him. He kept his infernals inside. For all Rys knew, Barul or the elders might detect what they were.
“Sage Hanna, it is good to see you again,” Barul said in his native tongue, his dark eyes flashing between everybody. He hid his hatred of Rys behind a stony expression. “I was not aware you would be present.”
Hanna translated Barul’s words for Rys’s benefit—or at least, that’s what she thought—before she answered.
“This is a sanctified duel conducted under the eyes of the Circle of Brethren,” Hanna intoned. “An independent referee is vital, and I am the only Sage available.”
The elders scowled at her. All of them had horns—short ones, which Rys believed meant something—and were well advanced in age. If they were human, Rys would pin them as in their sixties at the youngest. But they were Sages, and it was possible they had extended their lives using magic.
“Even if an elder cannot adjudicate, I could have brought a sage from my dain,” one elder said, with a surprisingly strong tone given his frail appearance.
“No, you couldn’t have,” Rys said. “Lady Maria arrested him for conspiring with Compagnon last night.”
The elders gasped. The other two stared at the one who spoke earlier.
“That is—” the elder stuttered out.
“Entirely right and true,” Barul said. “Lady Maria showed me the proof herself. But that is not why we are here.”
Barul glared at Rys. Maybe the Kinadain warrior disliked the elders. But his refusal to accept Rys mattered more, it seemed.
“Indeed,” Hanna said. “That leaves me as the only Sage qualified to be the referee. I trust there are no problems with this?”
“None,” Barul said, speaking over the elders. “We shall settle this today, under the eyes of the Circle of Brethren.”
Rys raised an eyebrow. “Is that a metaphorical thing or…?”
Barul’s expression turned thunderous, but Hanna spoke first.
“The Circle of Brethren represents the greatest Saints of the Kinadain. We may only act with their authority in specific circumstances, or else we will be found wanting,” Hanna said.
The way her eyes ran over the elders made it clear that she felt the elders should be found wanting.
Rys wasn’t a member of this circle, but he’d be happy to deal with the elders on its behalf.
The elders grumbled, but after several long minutes of arguing, they relented to Hanna’s presence. One of them continued to mutter beneath his breath, but stopped when the others glared at him.
“Lord Talarys, we understand that Maria wishes for us to recognize you as a suitable candidate,” the elders said. “As such, we approve of this duel. It is important that we witness the potential of any foreigner trying to claim power over Anceston.”
Rys noted that they refused to say what he was going to be a suitable candidate for. The contract they had bound Maria with wasn’t public knowledge, after all.
“Then let us speak of rules,” Hanna said. “This is a matter between Kinadain and a foreigner. As such, we cannot rely only on the word of those involved. A spiritual contract is required.”
“I will not agree to any such thing,” Barul spat.
Hanna paused, then nodded, eyes closed. “I expected as much. Then collateral must be offered by each combatant to ensure the integrity of the duel. However”—Hanna looked at the elders, and they glared back—“a contract will still be required for non-combatants.”
“Why?” the elders asked in unison. One stroked his beard, eyes narrowed.
“Because the reputation of the Kinadain toward foreigners is well known,” Rys said. “And the opposite also applies. I want the result of this duel to be certain. No lies. No whispers. You must accept the referee’s rulings and the result of the duel, or else remain quiet about everything related to it.”
“And to ensure that any collateral is delivered on,” Barul added. “This is a duel. Lives are at risk.”
Barul’s glare made it clear whose life he felt was at risk, but he was covering his bases. Maybe he wasn’t an idiot, even if he had appeared reckless.
Once again, the elders argued vehemently. Once again, they lost. Barul didn’t care what they thought. If they wanted to be part of the duel, they needed to agree.
Ironically, if they walked away, then they would keep Maria’s contract in place by refusing to accept Rys. Only their pride kept them here.
“Then, let us agree on the collateral, should either participant break the rules of the duel,” Hanna said, once the arguments were settled and the spiritual contract in place over herself, Fara, and the elders.
Somehow, the elders hadn’t noticed that Rys was excluded from it. Barul’s raised eyebrow indicated that he had, but he remained silent.
“Mine is simple. Talarys will never again have anything to do with Lady Maria,” Barul said.
The elders spluttered.
“How dare you, boy! This is about the Kinadain more than it is you. This collateral must speak for all of us,” one elder shouted.
Barul ignored them.
Did Barul think that Rys intended to marry Maria? The thought amused Rys, but also made Barul’s anger clear. The fact that Maria had tasted Rys’s cock and not Barul’s would drive the Kinadain into a berserker fury, should he ever find out.
“That is a steep request, Sir Barul,” Hanna said. Her brow furrowed, and for the first time it was genuine. Neither Rys nor Hanna had expected something as simple as this.
“It is the only thing he has to offer,” Barul said coldly.
Rys needed to use his immense willpower not to laugh in Barul’s face at that.
“I can think of little you have that is of equal value,” Hanna said. She appeared deeply troubled. “Lord Talarys, would you ask the same of Barul?”
“He’s protected Maria for years. If he wants to stay as her bodyguard, that’s his choice,” Rys said.
Barul gritted his teeth, but remained resolute.
“Then as a life must be offered for a life, the only viable collateral is your sister, Sir Barul,” Hanna said, her expression dark.
Barul’s eyes widened ever so slightly.
A second later, he sighed. He looked at Fara, and his gaze was distant. Then he looked at Rys.
For the first time that Rys remembered, Barul’s gaze wasn’t full of hatred. Instead, it seemed calculating. The Kinadain warrior sized Rys up.
“So be it,” Barul said.
Barul’s gaze was that of a man with nothing to return to.
Whatever the rules might say, Barul intended to kill Rys or die trying. No wonder he had bullied the elders into accepting the contract earlier and added his own term. He came here, willing to die, because he hated Rys that much.
Just like old times, Rys thought with an internal smirk. He loved enemies like this. So straightforward. A refreshing change from all the schemes and bull
shit of others.
Hanna looked at both of them. Her expression turned grim, but she ushered the non-combatants to one side. Then she focused her magic, casting a spiritual technique.
A circular barrier of blue flame burst into existence around Rys and Barul.
“Remember the rules,” Hanna said. “No leaving the circle. No interference from others. Obey any rulings I make. You fight until one combatant surrenders, is incapacitated, or I declare the duel over. Otherwise, do as you see fit to achieve victory.”
Ominous words, but intentional ones apparently. Hanna had explained that Kinadain duels didn’t bar trickery or deception, as the Saints considered those valued tactics in warfare. Real enemies used traps and all manner of magic, after all.
Barul drew his sword, holding it in his right hand. It shimmered in the morning sun. Rys recognized that type of sword very well. He’d killed a lot of people who wielded similar ones.
“A black steel core alloyed with angelic silver,” Rys said, describing the sword. “A valuable tool for channeling the Arts.”
Barul’s expression darkened. “I have been right to mistrust you.”
Rys unhooked his axe and gave it a twirl. The surface of the axe immediately turned pitch-black as infernal energy filled it. “History will judge you on that. Harshly, I suspect.”
Barul sneered. An instant later, his body flickered toward Rys. Magic poured off Barul. Only long experience and inhuman reflexes allowed Rys to react.
The slash aimed to take out Rys’s legs in a single sweep.
Foolish, Rys felt. Barul would have had better luck if he’d used a draw-slash. That would have prevented Rys from easily judging the length of the blade and counterattacking.
Infernal energy poured into Rys’s axe, giving it a red glow as he prepared an infernal blow. He swung his axe directly at Barul’s sword, intending to shatter it into pieces.
Before the blades connected, Barul’s blade blinked out of existence. Rys didn’t have time to blink, let alone react.
His axe slammed into Barul’s arm. The infernal blow discharged, turning Barul’s right forearm into a bloody mess of sinew and shattered bone.
At the same time, Barul’s sword appeared in his undamaged left arm. Rys grunted as pain flared in his body.
Barul’s sword had appeared inside of Rys’s chest.
Chapter 24
Rys roared with pain and took another swing at Barul.
Barul let go of his sword. Then he ducked to the side, rolling through the grass. The axe swung over his body, slashing his red coat apart.
Power surged through Rys as his body instinctively realized how close to death he was. His strength Gift poured power into his muscles. They burned so intensely that Rys expected them to start glowing.
The blade burned within his chest. Barul’s blade was enchanted with Angelic Arts and ate at the magical energy within Rys’s body.
Given the elders were Sages, Rys avoided using hellfire. It was too recognizable, even if the Ashen had gotten away with using it so far.
But that left him without too many counters.
Barul straightened. His right arm barely held together and he held nothing in his left. If he felt any pain, he didn’t show it.
Rys grabbed the sword in his chest while he had the chance to remove it.
Barul flickered again.
Cursing, Rys let go of the sword. He felt energy in the surrounding air, right as Barul appeared on top of him.
Rys’s axe swung upward. Barul grabbed his sword with his remaining arm, trying to pull it free by pushing with his legs on Rys’s chest.
Gravity threatened to knock Rys down, and his swing was thrown off by his lack of balance. The backside of his axe slammed into Barul’s side, likely shattering ribs. The Kinadain continued to pull out his sword.
Fortunately, Rys had a hidden advantage.
His strength Gift ensured he was always physically strong enough to do whatever he wanted. Right now, that ensured he remained standing despite the fully grown man standing on top of him.
It also meant that Rys was stronger than Barul.
Rys grabbed Barul’s arm and yanked the Kinadain down. They fought against each other for an instant. Then Barul screamed, before blasting Rys with magic.
The two of them separated, rolling across the field. Hanna had made the circle large enough, but Rys came too close to the flames for comfort.
Barul’s attack had felt like a force blast. Rys nursed a few broken ribs. The blade had shredded his insides a little, but it was held in place by his plate armor.
But Barul was far worse for wear. Blackened burn marks covered his left forearm. His fingers twitched and the Kinadain struggled to form a fist. His eyes burned with anger.
He recognized Rys’s hellfire, but nobody else had seen it. To everybody else, it looked like a smart use of fire magic.
Rys ripped the sword out of his chest. Sparks flew as it rubbed against Rys’s armor, followed by blood and flakes of metal flying everywhere. Blood poured out of the wound as it refused to close. Rys pumped magic into his chest and ignored the pain. It felt like he was pouring lava into his own wound, but that meant his healing was working.
With a grunt, Rys hurled the sword out of the arena. It flew through the barrier of flames without any trouble. The clatter it made on the gravel of the distant drive signaled the end.
“This duel is over!” Hanna declared. “Both of you, stop right now. Lord Talarys is the victor.”
Barul’s expression turned grim. He stood up straight, but magic continued to pour off him. His Arts remained active, and he intended to keep fighting.
“Are we sure it isn’t a draw?” an elder question. “Our supposed winner has a hole in his chest.”
“Lord Talarys has never loosened his grip on his axe. He’s made no apparent use of magic to keep himself standing. His ability to continue the duel is apparent,” Hanna said. She turned to face Barul. “Sir Barul, you have lost. Such is my ruling.”
“I accept your ruling. This duel is my loss,” Barul said.
Rys blinked. What?
Then it occurred to him.
Was Barul so stupid that he thought if he said that he accepted the result, then it meant that everybody would smile and nod? That Hanna would say, “Oh, yes, I remember him saying he accepted the result. He might have immediately tried to kill Lord Talarys after, but that doesn’t matter.”
Apparently, yes, judging from the hateful gaze he threw at Rys. It took a special kind of arrogance to believe a trick as dumb as that one could work.
Rys focused himself, drawing on as much magical power as he could before Barul attacked.
“Barul, stop!” Hanna shouted, signaling the start of the true battle.
Several astral lances appeared around Barul. Rys blinked, then cursed.
Forget caution, Rys realized. He countered the astral lances with hellfire, only an instant before they would have blown him apart.
Barul rushed through the flames, his clothes lighting on fire as he did so. His injuries didn’t slow him down in the least. He might be called a Sword-Slayer, but he knew how to fight without a weapon.
Rys swung. Barul leaped over the swing. His body flickered, then appeared closer to Rys.
Rys didn’t fall for the same trick twice.
Dropping to the ground, Rys let Barul’s kick fly overhead. An astral lance exploded from the Kinadain’s foot and created a small crater.
Rys snapped upward, swinging his axe right at Barul.
Impossibly, the Kinadain’s body twisted in the air. Barul dodged the attack, but at great cost. The muscles in Barul’s body rippled and contorted as he used magic to displace his body. Bones snapped and crunched. Blood poured out of dozens of tears in his skin.
A foot flew toward Rys’s head. Remembering what happened earlier, Rys caught it with his hand and tried to shift out of the way. An astral lance exploded through Rys’s arm, sending blood and gore everywhere.
; Then the blunt side of his axe crashed into Barul’s head and sent the Kinadain flying across the arena.
Immediately, the barrier outside the arena fell. Magic erupted within the arena. Rys tensed, expecting an attack.
He looked over to see Barul glaring at him while wrapped in glowing, magical chains. Hanna’s brow furrowed in concentration as she maintained her technique.
Fara rushed to Rys’s side, her tails tensed. Rys felt a spell around Fara and realized she had empowered her body in order to intervene.
“I’m fine, Fara,” Rys said.
Then he placed his good arm around her shoulder and leaned as heavily on her as he could, without being too obvious.
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. Fine. I can see that from the way you’re trying to crush me. How much muscle do you pack in there to weigh this much?”
He ignored her, watching the panic around Barul.
Hanna and the elders clustered around Barul’s unconscious body. They cast spiritual techniques to heal him, but they amounted to nothing in the end.
If he wanted to, Rys could save him. But what was there to gain?
Instead, he watched as Barul’s life slowly slipped away in the hands of his healers. Not every wound could be healed fast enough to save a life, especially if inflicted with the help of infernal sorcery.
“Do you need healing?” Fara asked.
“We’ll talk later,” Rys ground out. His chest still burned. While he had stopped the bleeding, healing the entire wound was another matter. The wound in his arm looked worse, but was less severe, as it didn’t appear to have anti-regenerative properties.
“If I’d known he could teleport—” Fara began to say.
“It wouldn’t have made a difference. I won,” Rys said. “And it wasn’t teleportation. He used spatial manipulation. I can count on one hand the number of humans that can use it among the spiritualists I’ve fought.”
“Out of how many?”
“Hundreds. Maybe thousands. I didn’t keep track,” Rys said.
Fara didn’t respond to that. Her tails rubbed against his back, for what little he felt of them.
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