Chapter 34

He could tell it was working. The temperature in the afternoon sunlight was probably ninety. The track he was wearing into the arena’s edges was cool--the air around his legs felt like it was closer to sixty. Janson and Mont Clair had moved to the edges of the arena as well. Only Heyerdahl ventured into the center of the packed clay.

Chun jogged past the south seating. A couple of people muttered unkind things about his mother and questioned whether or not she knew who his father was. Mostly they focused on fanning themselves, drinking, and playing cards while they waited for another clash between Chun and Heyerdahl.

He made it around the corner again, traversed the east side, and then started down the north side. Heyerdahl cut the corners and moved just fast enough to make Chun change his pace. It was smart of the big man to force Chun out of his most comfortable speed. He thought he must be about forty miles into the day now, and while he was still able to run, he was losing his ability to sprint.

A bee flew by, and Chun snatched it out of the air and crunched it down. It wasn’t enough food to matter, but he hadn’t survived prison camps, death marches, and multi-day battles by being picky.

“Did you just eat a bug?” Janson grimaced as Chun passed.

“I do what I must,” Chun said. Behind him Heyerdahl switched the greatsword to his other shoulder.

He worried about the next clash. The explosive speed needed to avoid instant death was draining out of him, and his only chance now was that Heyerdahl would have limitations of his own.

Stupid nephilim. Every last one of them is different. Fighting one doesn’t help a great deal in preparing for the next.

He needed a way to hurt Heyerdahl again, ideally without taking the risk of getting close to that greatsword. The families maintained this ground in an effort to limit battles to the weapons you brought with you. No rocks, no sticks, no easily accessible water. If he could actually make the flying sword fly this wouldn’t be a problem, or at least not such a dire problem.

What do I have?

He rounded the corner and ran along the west edge again.

If you think you’ve exhausted your options, it’s only because you’re not seeing everything. So, what else do I have?

Heyerdahl put on a burst of speed and cut the corner. Chun summoned his breath together to refresh his legs and sprinted around onto the south edge again. He risked a glance over his shoulder. Sweat glistened on Heyerdahl’s skin.

He’s not immune to the heat, just highly resistant.

“Fucking yellow coward.” “Asshole.” “Slant rabbit.”

Archibald studied him with fevered eyes as he rounded the southeast corner.

I can’t kill him with heat or cold, but his equipment doesn’t have the same protections. What do I have? I have a lot of heat built up in the center of the arena.

Behind him Heyerdahl cut the corner and started across the west side. Chun turned in toward the center of the arena, and when he had a clear line of sight behind Heyerdahl he drew on the heat, pulling it from the widest area he could reach, and funneling out in front of him in a rippling blast furnace.

Heyerdahl tried to dodge, but the attack was too wide and unfocused for that. His trousers caught fire, and he rolled into a little ball with his back to Chun.

Chun continued his assault until he ran out of heat to pull. The area around him frosted over in a rough circle fifty feet across. Heyerdahl pushed himself up. His skin had some light blistering where it had taken the brunt of the blast, but overall, he was in good condition. His clothing was another matter.

His belt had been weakened and it broke in the back as he stood. His trousers were mostly ash. He took a step, and his boots cracked and flopped--the leather had split in places and his boot laces were mostly burnt.

Heyerdahl ripped the remains of his clothing away and then trotted toward Chun.

He must be popular with the ladies. Or a complete terror.

Chun backed up a few steps. There was enough frost to make the ground slippery here.

I grew up in the ice. This might be worth the risk.

Heyerdahl’s bare foot hit the frost and slipped out from under him. Chun drew his knife and hurled it. The throw was good, and the blade impaled Heyerdahl’s foot.

The giant bellowed, his first concession to discomfort so far and ripped the knife out of his foot. He rolled to his knee and hurled the blade at Chun’s gut. It was a good throw, but Chun deflected the knife upward with his sword and waited for it to fall, then caught it. He weighed throwing it again but decided not to expose Heyerdahl to the same trick again--at least not so soon.

He turned and headed for the north edge again. Behind him Heyerdahl regained his feet and followed, leaving bloody footprints in his wake.

“Suddenly this fight is interesting,” Annabeth called as he went by.

Chun rounded the corner and started down the west side. Heyerdahl cut across, high stepping to protect his feet as he moved through the heat.

He put on a burst of speed, and Chun put his legs to work to stay ahead. The greatsword spinning through the air at his back surprised him, and he dropped, sliding on his belly as the weapon went over.

Heyerdahl’s foot came forward, and Chun blocked the kick with his sword, slicing deep into the giant’s shin. The kick tore the sword from his hand and tossed it out toward the center of the arena. Chun rolled, but huge hands grabbed him and snatched him up. He drew his fighting knife, and as Heyerdahl’s arms started to tighten, he drove the blade up into the giant’s right armpit.

The blade found the nerves, and Heyerdahl dropped him. A knee caught him in the chest before his feet found the clay, and ribs broke. Chun reached around the leg and hamstrung him as he pulled his leg away.

Chun’s feet found the clay, and Heyerdahl’s other foot hit him in the calf. His leg broke halfway between the knee and the ankle, and he sprawled on his back.

He jumped on Chun, straddling him, and Chun hit him in the face with another blast of heat that made him turn his head away. Chun flexed upward as far as he could and stabbed his knife through Heyerdahl’s neck, then dragged it forward, severing blood vessels and the trachea.

Heyerdahl’s fist came down hard, and Chun managed to move his head enough to take a glancing blow, then drove the knife through the giant’s bicep, next to the bone, and sawed through the muscles.

Heyerdahl tried to bite, and Chun rammed the knife up through his lower jaw and into the upper palate, pinning his mouth shut. Heyerdahl reared back, and Chun got his good leg out enough to push and shoved himself out from under the giant. He struggled into a sitting position.

“You make twelve.”

Power flared up from the southeast corner, and Chun pulled himself around to face Archibald. The attack came in a stream, and not the neat threads one would see from a wizard, but a twisting mass more like tentacles.

Chun slammed his breath together, frantically hardening the left shoulder and that side of his chest. His defenses almost stopped the attack, but then they failed. The tail end of the surge hit him in the left shoulder and bones broke. Chun went sprawling on his back, sliding across the arena.

Behind him Annabeth rushed the field, heading straight for Chun.

There's no way I can beat her now.

Chun switched his knife to his good arm and dragged himself out of the way of Archibald’s next attack while swinging himself to face Annabeth.

A few yards away Heyerdahl dragged himself to his feet and took a step toward Chun.

Chun reached for the emperor’s sword with his breath. If he could get it to respond, he might have a chance.

Too late.

Annabeth reached him and leaped, flying over him to hit Heyerdahl in the chest with both feet and sending him onto his back again.

Chun nearly fainted in relief. Annabeth spun and left Heyerdahl laying in the dirt, closing on Archibald with breathtaking speed. Chun dragged himself to his feet, using his breath to pull his broken bones together, and took a hobbling, agonizing step toward Archibald.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Before Chun could react, Heyerdahl’s sword exploded out of his bellybutton. Fire passed through Chun’s body and the iron smell of his own blood filled his nose.

Shit. I let Annabeth distract me.

Chun bound the blade in his breath, softened the steel, and severed the greatsword from its grip, then trimmed off the six feet sticking out in front of him.

A massive hand grabbed him around the neck and squeezed. Chun flailed behind himself but couldn’t reach the giant. He pushed breath into his neck, frantic to strengthen it, but the giant’s mad strength was too much. His larynx cracked, and his airway closed off.

* * *

Annabeth made it most of the way to Archibald before he noticed her. Whatever he’d done to Chun was powerful. It hit her square in the chest and flipped her all the way over. She came down awkwardly, toes, then knees, then hands. She shoved herself upright and flicked her sword at Archibald. It hit him in the stomach, right below the chest. His burst of power went into the afternoon sky.

She reached him in a second and kicked him in the head. Something broke, probably his jaw. Maybe some other stuff. His head flopped, and his eyes closed. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Heyerdahl grab Chun’s neck and squeeze it shut.

“Shit.”

She abandoned Archibald for the moment and launched herself at Heyerdahl. She was pretty sure she’d never run faster, but it felt like forever before she reached him. Her curved knife came down fast and hard, and chopped through his wrist, nearly severing his hand.

Annabeth slashed the knife across his abdominal wall, disemboweling him, then kicked his feet out from under him. A few seconds work with the knife finished what Chun had started, and she pushed his head away from his body.

She wondered if she should try to give Chun a tracheotomy, but she didn’t know how. Commotion near Archibald drew her attention, and she was pleased to see Mont Clair cut his throat, and Janson waiving paramedics toward them.

The paramedics got Chun breathing through a tube, onto a stretcher, then into the back of a big, ungainly white car. Annabeth rode beside him.

Something in his shoulder moved, and he grunted as bones shifted back into place.

“Are you just healing right now?” Annabeth looked down in shock.

“No,” he gasped. “Just splinting breaks.”

“What do we need to do to help you?”

He winced and something in the shoulder clicked. “I need food.” Blood bubbled onto his lips.

Annabeth grimaced. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but hospital food is gross, and they probably won’t let you eat right away.”

He reached out and squeezed her hand with a shocking amount of strength.

“Alright. I’ll make sure they feed you. Any other special instructions?”

“No anesthesia,” he gasped.

“That will be hard, but I’ll take care of it.”

His eyes opened and locked on hers for a moment, then closed again

* * *

“This is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” said Dr. Orman. He put a set of x-rays up on a lighted panel, and Annabeth looked them over.

“What do you see?” Halloway asked.

“His teeth aren’t real,” Annabeth said.

“What do you mean?” Halloway asked. “I’ve spent some time with him, and I didn’t see anything strange.”

The doctor tapped the x-ray of Chun’s head. “Normal teeth should have shading. The lightest parts have the highest density. Places with not enough exposure may have cavities. His teeth are solid white, and when you see them in person, they look more like porcelain than enamel.”

“He said he could splint his own breaks,” Annabeth said, pointing at the shoulder.

“That’s mind boggling,” Orman said. “Before today the most powerful wizard I’d met could steer an ice cube around in a glass of water. And I’ve got to tell you, operating on a man without anesthesia is a nerve-wracking experience. I went to close him up, and he told me I missed a spot. Not only that, but he turned out to be right.”

“He’s been hurt a lot, so he should know,” Annabeth said, pointing to places with old calcification.

“A lot doesn’t begin to cover it,” Orman said. “There must be over a hundred old breaks. And the scarring he carries on his skin is worse. He has been shot, stabbed, burned, cut, beaten extensively, his finger and toenails have been pulled out before…” Orman shook his head. “I’m shocked a person can survive that much trauma. What is he like?”

“How do you mean?” Halloway crossed his arms and sniffed.

“Any tics or obsessions? Irrational fears?”

“He’s afraid of missing a meal,” Annabeth said. “Does that count?”

“Perhaps. Do you know if he grew up poor?”

“He was a member of the imperial family,” Annabeth said.

“Did he spend time in prison?”

Halloway nodded. “He spent time in a prisoner of war camp.”

“That could do it,” Orman said. “If that’s also where he got the whipping scars, and lost the nails, then it was a traumatic stay.”

“How long before he can travel?” Halloway inhaled and sighed.

“With someone else, I would say three weeks,” Orman said. “With him? I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Dueling is so foolish. We’ve risen from rocks to scalpels, from feet to aircraft. I can circumnavigate the globe during my summer vacation, and I can reasonably expect to live through it, but men still insist on brutalizing each other instead of talking.”

“He didn’t take the fight because he was foolish,” Halloway said. “He took it because he ran out of options.”

“Who was his opponent?” Orman squinted.

“You know Lotar Heyerdahl?” Halloway’ voice was heavy with worry.

Orman’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And the other monster?”

“Do you mean Archibald?” Annabeth smirked.

Orman shrugged. “I don’t know his name. Big man. Arrogant.”

“I killed him,” Annabeth said.

Orman inched back. “You did?”

“That’s right. He cheated in the duel. I was Chun’s second.”

Orman shook his head again. “Well. I think I am glad you won. You seem more reasonable than they did.”

Halloway laughed. “She seems very reasonable until you ride with her.”

“I’m the best driver you’ve ever heard of,” Annabeth said.

“That’s true but riding with you isn’t for the faint of heart.”

“As far as his care,” Orman said. “I’ve seen enough to make me willing to give him special treatment. I just need to know what that is.”

“It’s going to be food, primarily,” Annabeth said. “In the ambulance on the way here he told me to make sure you feed him. He will want protein, vegetables, and fruits.”

“I don’t recommend feeding him yet. He’s had a massive trauma to his intestines.”

Annabeth nodded. “Talk to him about it, but ultimately I expect you to do what he wants.”

“Very well,” Orman said. “It has been interesting meeting you.”

He showed them out, and Annabeth led Halloway back to Chun’s room. He lay on his back, eyes closed. He had consented to splinting the breaks that could be splinted, and his left arm and shoulder were heavily wrapped, as was his left leg.

“We need to get back,” Halloway said. “They’re having problems with Buchanan’s gang, and they need everyone on deck.”

Annabeth looked at Chun. “I don’t think we should leave him.”

Halloway nodded. “I agree, but I’m not sure which of us should stay. I’m more useful to Jhon for management and organization. You’re more useful for investigation and combat. Frankly he needs all of those things right now.”

“Where’s he living since our house burned down?” Annabeth felt her voice quiver, but Halloway hadn’t seemed to notice.

“At the office. He says they just set up a room for him down the hall. Several other agents are living out of the office right now. Even a couple of the families.”

“Then you should go,” Annabeth said. “He’ll be safe in the office with all of you. If we’re only leaving one guard with Chun, I’m the best choice.”

“I’ll get packed up and head back then,” Halloway said. He patted her on the shoulder. “Thank you, Annabeth. This trip would have been a failure without you.”

“That’s true,” Annabeth said and winked at him. “It’s also nice of you to notice. Tell Jhon and Abraham I’ll be back as soon as I can.”