“So I understand that you have an interest in artisanry, Lady Tanya.”
Matt choked a little on his food while Tanya preened under the attention. “I suppose I do. Though I must admit, I’m not very good at producing art on my own. More that I enjoy collecting and showing it off.”
The dinner had been going fairly well so far, better than Matt had expected, actually. The elders of the Red Moon Orcs had gathered in a grand hall inside the Keep, where there was a large table set. Food had been piled high, and the members of his lifeguard had taken up posts around the room, unobtrusively watching the entrances and the attendees.
Matt had been given the seat at the head of the table, while Einreth had taken the one at the opposite end. It put him in the uncomfortable position of being separated from his most valuable ally, but it was a sign that they still honored his title as King, so he had to swallow it.
Tanya had been seated at his right hand, which had been both aggravating and reassuring. Her attendants were nowhere to be found, but she had thrown herself right into the idle chatter with the elders at once. Matt had tried to wade in as well, answering questions about the battles he’d fought and his time in Redspire, while trying not to give away any weaknesses to possible enemies.
There were a lot of those in the room at the moment. The Red Moon Clan had six different noble Houses, all of whom had a habit of feuding with each other over control of the Clan, or even the Kingdom itself. House Einden, Einreth’s House, was currently in ascendance, and supposedly enjoyed allies in both House Golren and House Wathred. The other three Houses—Tolmorr, Pokthan, and Delmeth—would have loved to overthrow them and take control themselves. Even Golren and Wathred would probably have taken a shot, if they could do so without risking their status.
Tolreth was the heir of House Tolmorr, and it quickly became clear that he’d forged a kind of alliance with the second sons and daughters of Pokthan, Delmeth, Golren and Wathred. They were all seated together in a group at the table, smirking at Einreth and making sarcastic remarks whenever they were addressed. Moreover, they were all dressed in dueling armor, which contrasted sharply with the less-martially dressed Orcs in the room. Their elders seemed relatively desperate to smooth things over for the course of the dinner, but Matt could tell that they were almost at their wits’ end.
He wondered if any of them realized that their supposed kinsmen were quite ready to have them all killed.
It was obvious, the way Tolreth was maneuvering things. Once Einreth was dead and he had seized control of the Clan, the others would probably start challenging the nobles ahead of them in seniority until they controlled five out of the six Houses in Heartlight. From there, he’d go on to rebel, or maybe take Redspire and the throne there as well. The way he kept giving Matt challenging stares during the dinner had clinched it.
Of course, he’d wanted to get through the dinner quietly and maybe start passing warnings to the Orc elders afterwards. Only now the elder of House Golren had just asked Tanya to bring up her art project, and he was once again regretting taking her from the Coalition in the first place.
The Golren elder frowned, as if taken aback by Tanya’s answer. “I see. I supposed you had gained your title by creating works of art yourself in the capital.”
Tanya smiled indulgently. “Maybe one day! Currently, though, I intend to create a grand museum for art from all over the Kingdom. People can visit and enjoy the rich culture and heritage your people have created.”
The Wathred scion in Tolreth’s orbit snorted. “I don’t see why anything great could come from most of those Clans. What does a Gnome or a Goblin know of art or beauty?”
The comment seemed to pass right over Tanya’s head. She simply shrugged. “I think that gathering such art would help answer those questions, actually! You can learn so much from a person by the art they create, or by what they appreciate as beauty. In fact, I had planned on acquiring some of the masterpieces from your Clan while I was here.”
There were a few smiles around the table, though they ranged from contemptuous to genuine. The Tolmorr elder, an ancient Orc that looked half-gone from age, raised his hand. “I have many pieces that you are welcome to inspect, dear Maiden! You would be honored to have such artwork in your collection!”
Tanya smiled at the old man. “I am sure I would, good sir. I will try to make time to stop by.”
Tolreth snorted. He shook his head and then looked around the table. “I’m afraid that they might be priced a bit too richly for you, Human. The art of the Red Moons is not traded away so easily or cheaply.”
Given his own experiences with Tanya, he half expected her to blow up at the condescending Orc. Instead, Tanya looked genuinely disappointed. “Ah, I was afraid of that. You have so many wonderful things here!”
She gestured around the room, and there was a rumble of pleased satisfaction from the Orcs at the table. Matt was forced to add his own nod to her words. The Orcs of the Red Moon, did seem to have fairly good taste in art. The sculptures set into the walls were of the highest quality, as if the Orcish warriors depicted there were ready to step from their pedestals and into battle. Every glass and plate was richly decorated as well, with the delicate silver worked into countless curves and flourishes. Tapestries covered the red brick walls, showing scenes of glory and victory from the martial past of the Clan, and higher still were the banners of their defeated foes, each of which was remade and repaired to keep them fresh when the moths had begun their work.
Tanya sighed and continued. “I guess that will mean that we’ll have to show far more of the other High Clans’ works. I know Lord Torth has committed to providing me with several examples of High Imp metalworking, and Lady Grumsen from the Hard Scythes has told me she is commissioning something special for the museum once it opens. It will be a shame that the section dedicated to the Red Moons will be a bit…lacking?...but there’s no way around it. Things are how they are.”
Matt stared at her in utter astonishment for a moment before he remembered where he was. It was like watching a master fisherwoman set the bait for a gullible salmon. There were already mutters of discontent spreading through the elders and their heirs. Even the batch near Tolreth were shifting unhappily in their seats. It was one thing to overcharge a gullible woman for simple artwork; it was another to be told that your Clan’s legacy would be left out of a celebration over price.
Einreth spoke up from her position at the other end of the table. “Lady Tanya, I personally assure you that you may pick one piece from my House’s collection to display. You need only ask, and I will make sure that it reaches you.”
With a beaming smile, Tanya clapped her hands together. “Oh, excellent! Thank you for your support!”
Other elders were discussing what they could offer, but before anyone else could volunteer more, Tolreth spoke over them. “I would visit her quickly, Human. She may not have much time left.”
The Orcs around Tolreth chuckled to themselves, though many of the older Orcs looked uncomfortable. Einreth merely raised an eyebrow at her challenger. “Your words are fierce, Tolreth, but we will find out how justified they are tomorrow.”
Tolreth smiled at her, more a baring of teeth than an actual show of good humor. “We would already have done so had you not enjoyed the apparent favor of our King, Lady Einreth.” He directed a frank glare at Matt, something that seemed to alarm his mother beside him.
Matt raised an eyebrow at Tolreth. “My apologies, Lord Tolreth. I was merely curious about seeing how your people determine who leads among you. I had not had the opportunity to visit your home before now. If waiting a day or two has inconvenienced you, that is unfortunate.”
Tolreth was still glaring at Matt, but the elder of House Pokthan spoke up next. “And how have you enjoyed the city so far, sire? I am told it is quite impressive compared to other places in the Kingdom.”
“It is clear your Clan has built something wonderful here.” Matt smiled. “I look forward to seeing Heartlight grow and expand as time goes on. Hopefully, once the wars are done, I will be able to visit more often.”
Another of Tolreth’s companions snorted derisively. “Will you make another dishonorable treaty, then? Better to remain at war than to be forced to tolerate these… lessers around our people.”
The Delmeth elder gave the younger Orc a sharp look and spoke quickly. “I understand you will be marching against the rebel Teblas soon, sire. You plan on finally ridding us of his treachery?”
Matt nodded, though he kept his eyes on the youngster that had spoken. His enemies were acting far too provocative. It was odd for them to be this confrontational. Even Braden had been more careful with his words around Matt. “I will. He has caused enough trouble, and more than enough grief. I will bring him and all the rest of the traitors to justice.”
Further down the table, the heir of House Golren raised his cup and grinned. “Good! I look forward to seeing them brought down. Teblas’ head would make a fine trophy, especially in honor of the memory of Lord Braden.”
A murmur of agreement ran through the gathered Orcs, though it was noticeably absent from the ones seated near Lord Tolreth. Einreth glanced at them, and her expression grew tight with anger. Matt caught her eye, and she grimaced and nodded. They would need to deal with the would-be traitors soon enough, but now it might not be the greatest idea to start things at this feast.
Matt looked back at the Orc who had made the comment originally. He forced a smile. “I agree. Though it will still be a poor exchange for a Defender of the Realm. Teblas and his rebellion is simply just a waste when we have so much else to do.”
The elder of House Wathred was studying Tolreth and the others around him with sudden distaste. She seemed a bit uneasy at their words, which made a certain amount of sense. “So I have heard, King Matthew. If I have heard correctly, you seem to have many plans for the peoples of the Kingdom. Ideas about how to grow and expand our power. Do your ideas extend to Heartlight as well?”
He tapped the table in front of him with a finger. “It definitely could, yes. The same improvements we’ve made to Redspire can be done here, and they would bring the same benefits. I see no reason for the rest of the Kingdom to leave the Orcs of the Red Moon behind. Why shouldn’t you move forward into the future alongside the rest of us?”
Tolreth’s smile didn’t quite match his narrowed eyes. “Or why should we not lead them from in front?” He spread his arms, the dueling armor he wore creaking with the motion. “After all, are we not the greatest of the High Clans, and the ones who have built the Kingdom’s glory? It should be our Clan that rises above all others. The strong should always lead.”
Matt met Tolreth’s stare with one of his own. “I’ve found that we are normally far stronger together than we are apart. Those who try to succeed on their own often find themselves unable to survive.”
Tolreth raised an eyebrow. “Those who are strong have no trouble dealing with a problem by themselves, King Matthew. At least, that was what Lord Braden believed. It is what I believe.”
The challenge was clear in Tolreth’s tone, walking the careful edge between disrespect and polite disagreement. Matt leaned back in his seat. “A wise man in my world once said that ‘a single twig breaks, but the bundle of twigs is strong.’ It’s much the same with the Kingdom. Better to fight together than to let yourself be surrounded and alone.”
One of Tolreth’s companions laughed, a harsh bark of sound. “Perhaps a twig might have to worry about such things, but the Red Moons are a mighty trunk! We shall always be victorious.”
A subtle tension had crept into the meal. The other Orcs were eating more slowly, watching the developing confrontation. Einreth spoke up from where she sat, her voice carrying an edge of anger still. “King Matthew has defeated many of our enemies already. He can hardly be called a twig.”
Another of Tolreth’s goons gave her a mocking smile. “You may believe so, but I have heard differently. From what I’ve known, most of the killing was done by others, while he has mostly only bothered to slay a few Frost Elves and a chained old Imp. Hardly the act of a warrior, striking down such little people.”
Clarity washed over Matt as he finally understood what Tolreth’s friends were doing. They were taunting him, just as Tolreth had taunted Einreth. There was a difference, though. Unlike Einreth, Tolreth and his friends believed he wouldn’t respond to insults. They thought he was weak and easily intimidated, that they would be able to imply and undermine him freely, even in the open like they were now. It made sense, in a way. After all, they were planning on assassinating Einreth right in front of him, while all he could do was watch helplessly.
He smiled at the Orcs. “The Red Sorceress might disagree with you, but I suppose that is something you don’t know very much about.”
The Orc flushed with anger, and Matt let his smile grow. They weren’t the only ones who could needle and taunt someone to hasty actions. A plan started to form, but before he could finish thinking through it, a group of servants came through the door.
They were a group of Knights, clearly many years into their servitude. Two carried a pair of goblets, richly decorated vessels of gold and crystal, with a matching pitcher that had been filled with a purple drink. One moved over to where Einreth sat and set one of the goblets before her. As they filled it and the Orcs began to relax back into their seats. Einreth relaxed a little as well, and smiled at Matt across the table.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
“I hope you can indulge me in a moment of tradition and honor, sire. It has long been a habit of the Red Moon Clan to toast their liege and be toasted in return. I hope you do not mind the vintage.”
Matt gestured, and she nodded. The servants came over and set the other goblet in front of him, before filling it with the same pitcher. They then began to circle the table, filling the cups of the Orcs around the table, beginning with the elders and continuing until they had given the same thing to all of them.
Einreth stood and lifted her goblet. “To the Kingdom of Iron! May we rise above the enemies that surround us and the traitors that would seek to undermine us. Let misery fall on all those who would stand in our way.”
The Orcs all raised their cups and shouted their assent. Matt did likewise and then paused. Nobody had drunk anything yet. They had all turned to look at him.
He stood, running over the words he wanted to say in his mind. Matt lifted the goblet a little higher, looking around the table.
Then he stopped. Tolreth was watching him. Staring at him, really, with a kind of expectation that Matt felt like he recognized. It reminded him of his conversation with Lord Penk, and his suspicions of poison flooded back through his mind.
He glanced at Einreth, who was still looking at him expectantly. The poison wouldn’t have been in the drink; everyone had gotten it from the same source. A good old poisoner’s teapot hadn’t been used either, just a plain pitcher. It had to have been slathered on the inside of the cups; the nature of the ceremony made it that much easier, since only Einreth and himself had special cups.
His realization compounded as he glanced back at Tolreth, who had narrowed his eyes slightly. There might have even been two different poisons. They wouldn’t want Einreth to die before the duel, but if she was just weakened…
It fit. He wished it didn’t, but it did. If Einreth was forced to fight while weakened by poison, it would make the victory easy for Tolreth. They must have planned it before Matt had announced his arrival and adjusted their plans afterwards. His glass definitely didn’t have a simple weakening poison. Suluth would have used something much stronger. A drink from that glass would kill him, leaving the Kingdom in chaos while Tolreth took control of his High Clan and announced an alliance with Suluth.
All they needed was for him to swallow a few insults and then a bit of poison. Then thousands of people would die, all with Teblas and the Alliance poised to continue ripping everything apart, all so a spoiled group of slave-owning nobles could grab at some petty bits of power they didn’t earn.
Anger boiled in Matt’s gut, burning at him. He fought it down and forced himself to smile. They expected him to be passive, docile. Obviously, they had read weakness in his decisions, and had decided that he was some kind of puppet. A man that they could challenge and dispose of at their leisure. If they had acted just a little sooner, they might have been right.
Now, though, it was time for a change of plans. Sun Tzu would have approved; a warrior never wanted to do what the enemy expected. Especially not now.
“I have learned much about your Clan since I arrived here. I have admired your strength. I have been impressed by your legacy of loyalty and honor. Your Clan has been the heart of our Kingdom, and you deserve the respect you have received.”
Murmurs of agreement ran through the Orcs, and he saw smiles break out among the elders. Some of Tolreth’s gang even started to grin; Tolreth himself leaned back into his seat, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. Matt smiled as well and lifted his cup higher.
“What has impressed me most is your dedication to strength. To your warrior’s heart. You have made sure that the strong are the only ones that can lead you. That only the mightiest of warriors can determine your future. You’ve remained so powerful because of that sacrifice, I imagine. Your dedication to honor, and to the forgiveness of those strong ones that have killed your kinsmen in order to win the right to lead.”
The Orcs had been smiling at his words at first, but by the end of them, some were starting to shift in their seats. Those who had been feuding with each other exchanged glances before looking away. Tolreth was not the only one frowning when Matt paused, though he was the only one that spoke. “A truly strong warrior accepts such things.”
Matt nodded vigorously and moved his glass in a kind of salute. “Exactly! Of course.” He pushed back his chair and walked around the side of the table to where Tolreth and his group were sitting. The eyes of the Orcs followed him as he moved. “Any other people would be broken by such actions. Their strength would be fractured and weakened by feuds. By petty warfare and long-held grudges. The fact that the Orcs of the Red Moon have risen beyond such things is inspiring to me.”
He stopped beside Lord Tolreth. The Orc had turned slightly in his seat to look back at him, his eyes now wary. Those of his gang were also looking back at him, seeming uncertain or contemptuous. Beyond them, the elders were all frowning now. They couldn’t argue against his words, not without condemning their own faults, but Matt knew they had to sting. To burn just a little as they were forced to acknowledge the truth of the cost of their traditions. Einreth, most of all, was watching him with concern. Tanya stared at him with confusion, and her eyes darted to the frowning Orcs around her as if the situation had spun out of control.
In a way, it had. Things were now out of Tolreth’s control now… and completely under Matt’s.
Matt let his smile grow, almost to a manic amount. “I have learned so much from all of you. I know that some of you consider me weak. That some of you believe that I only strike down the old, infirm, or small. That perhaps a man like me is unworthy of the throne that sits over your Clan.”
He saw worry spreading among the Orcs, and saw them start to stir. Mouths were opening as if ready to protest, but Matt didn’t give them the chance. Instead, he raised his cup one last time, high over his head. Matt let his voice ring out over the growing mutters. “So now! Let me show you how wrong you are.”
With two quick strides, he was next to the end of Tolreth’s gang. The armored Orc sitting there twisted in his seat to stare back at him. Matt grinned in his face.
Then he tipped the goblet and poured liquid down over the Orc’s helmet.
He didn’t pour all of it, just enough to get it in the Orc’s eyes. His target spluttered and coughed, swiping at his eyes. Before he could rise, Matt spoke in a cold voice of bared steel. “I challenge you to a duel.”
The Orcs all froze, including the one with the poisoned drink dripping down his face. Matt moved again, to the next of Tolreth’s followers. She stared up in shock as he poured a bit more of it over her. “And you.” He turned to Tolreth himself, as if considering the Tolmorr heir. Then he shrugged and passed Tolreth by, dousing the next of his followers. “And you. And finally, you.”
He upended the goblet, making sure to shake out the last drops of the drink. Shocked silence greeted him, and Matt smiled at the group. “I would have included you, Lord Tolreth, but I believe the Lady Einreth has prior claim. Not that it will really matter. It will all end the same.”
The silence held for another heartbeat. Then the Orcs threw themselves out of their seats. A clamor of voices competed for dominance; it was a while before one of the elders, the one from House Golren, was able to speak over the others. “Sire, to challenge these four like this, in the middle of a toast…”
Matt made a gesture, and the room fell silent again. “This is how it is done in the Clan, is it not? You called Lady Einreth from the front lines to handle a challenge, despite the risks for the rest of the Kingdom. Is there anything more precious about these four that means they are more crucial than she was?” Silence answered him, and he raised his eyebrows. “Or perhaps you think it isn’t fair for me to challenge them when they are all so weak. I concede that you are right. Fighting them one by one would be… unsatisfying, so they can face me all at once. Unless they are too frightened to do so?”
Expressions darkened, and Tolreth’s friends snarled at him with anger. He smiled mockingly back at them; he knew they couldn’t refuse, not without being shamed before the Clan. The opportunity to kill him outright and seize the Divine Right for themselves was another lure, baiting them alongside their sudden fury at his insults. Still, he suspected they would require one last push to agree.
The elder of House Pokthan stepped forward, his voice soothing. “Perhaps we can arrange for the duel to take place later, when heads are cooler. Maybe after the issue with Lord Tolreth and Lady Einreth is settled, we can revisit—”
Matt gave him an incredulous look. “What? No. When I said a duel, I meant right now.” He stepped over to the table and grabbed a carving knife that had been stuck into the cooked carcass of some bird. With a couple of swipes, he cleaned it off on the tablecloth. “This should work for me.”
Shock had stilled the Orcs again, and he turned to face his opponents. “Well? You already are wearing your armor, aren’t you? Or do you need a few minutes to go get a weapon you forgot?”
The question shocked them out of their stupor, and one of the Orcs stepped forward with a clenched fist. “I am ready. And it will be to the death. Sire.”
One by one, the others followed suit, and Matt nodded. He looked at his lifeguards, who were standing by uncertainly, and gestured for them to remain where they were. If they interfered in the duel, it might start a rebellion right there and then. Even as easy as it would be, he didn’t want to win the fight and lose the Clan that way.
Matt walked over to where Einreth sat, still shocked and staring. He carefully took the goblet from her hand and set it aside. “You may want to drink something better, Lady Einreth.” The Orc’s eyes suddenly grew wide, and she looked from the cup to him. “Or perhaps you should go and fetch your armor. Things may be… interesting soon.”
Einreth stared at him for a moment. Then she nodded. She rose from her seat and started off after the other Orcs, who were all filing out of the room. The only person still at the table was Tanya, who was staring at him with a mixture of horror and surprise on her face. Matt simply nodded to her and went out after the Orcs. He had a job to do now.
The dueling arena had been built beside the Crimson Keep long ago, though there was some debate about whether the arena or the fortress had been constructed first. Seeing the place, Matt actually wondered if there was some truth to the idea that the Keep had been built as a place to take refuge after a contentious duel had ended, meant to keep out the unsatisfied losers of the engagement.
It was a plain place, one with a circle of stone seats arranged in a large stadium with a circle of dirt at the center. The Red Moons hadn’t even bothered to pave the middle of the place, apparently preferring the plain soil to more refined stages, though someone had at the very least scraped away the frost and snow in preparation for Einreth’s duel the next morning.
Matt walked into that circle of dirt and tried not to shiver at the cold in the air. The arena was open to the sky, of course, and the stars glittered overhead. At the very least, the seats surrounding them cut the chill wind that could have blown through the place. He momentarily regretted walking into the duel in only his tunic, but at least he had gotten the result he wanted.
All four of his targets were waiting across the arena from him. They were armed with large weapons; two carried broad, two-handed swords, a third carried an axe that looked like it could cut through a door in a swing, and the last held a pair of war maces that were heavier than what he usually carried. Each had a set of spiked armor that looked ready to absorb any attacks he might be able to throw; they could probably have just charged and impaled him immediately.
His armored surcoat might have helped with that, but it likely wouldn’t. The Red Moon Clan had a reputation for enhancing their weaponry and armor with Spells; if the nobles in the ring with him followed that habit, then they would probably be able to cut straight through his protection as if he wasn’t wearing it. Better to be able to move freely, then. Not that he would last long if they managed to get in close.
Matt hefted the carving knife in his hand and started to whisper the words of his first and only Spell of the duel. He felt the framework take shape in his mind and held it close to the Source that still rumbled and ached within him. The nobles across from him appeared to be doing the same, preparing their own mystical tools to strike him down. His heart started to beat faster; his breath misted in the air as the cold closed in around him.
Einreth had not joined them in the stadium, but the elders of the Orcs had all come in her place. Their heirs and companions had come too, as had the lifeguard. Matt had made sure that the guards wouldn’t act during the duel itself; they’d only make sure that if Suluth had any other surprises, they wouldn’t interfere with the result. The elders watched them carefully, as if not entirely trusting them, but they didn’t say anything about it.
One of the elders, the leader of House Tolmorr, stood up. He glanced at Lord Tolreth, and then spoke in a warbling voice. “Contestants! We have come to this place of honor to resolve a dispute among warriors. Is there any hope of resolving this without spilling blood?”
Matt simply shook his head, and then flexed his fingers, trying not to lose the feeling in his hands. His opponents growled and shook their heads as well, clutching their weapons.
The elder looked saddened. He shook his head and spoke again. “Then let honor decide the way forward. Begin!”
At those words, his opponents reacted instantly. They sprang forward, their words calling their magic to life. Flames wrapped around both swords, heating them to an eye-hurting red. Lightning wrapped around the edge of the axe, lighting the arena with a flickering glow. An icy chill trailed after the maces held by his last opponent, promising a painful result on contact. Together, they sprinted at him, roaring with rage.
Matt snapped his attention back to those four. Then he extended his hand and let the magic flow through him.
The dirt in the arena responded instantly. His Spell weakened the ground, turning it from firm soil and occasional patches of mud into a pit full of loose sand and half-frozen mud. He had tried to make sure that it didn’t spread too far, so instead of flooding across the entire stadium, the magic dove down deep into the dirt, constrained to a few dozen square meters. It happened all in an instant, with a sudden rush of power that left him reeling.
In that instant, all four Orcs fell, dropping into the ground as if they had run straight off a cliff and into deep water. The dirt shifted and flowed beneath them, and their armor dragged them down as they thrashed and tried to escape.
Sudden, utter silence filled the stadium as the Orcs struggled and choked. Matt looked up at the elders with raised eyebrows, as if waiting for their protests, their accusations of dishonor.
He found none. The elders and their companions just stared down at the four struggling Orcish warriors. Tolreth had gone pale; he glanced at the lifeguards who were still standing motionless at the exits, and swallowed.
Satisfied that no one was going to protest, Matt started forward, the knife held in his hands. He skirted around the edge of the pit he’d created, still pouring magic into the space so that the Orcs couldn’t escape. As he approached one of them, the warrior tried to thrash around to face him. The Orc didn’t succeed before Matt crouched down and yanked their helmet back. His knife slid into the gap between the helmet and chainmail easily.
Matt stepped back, letting the dying Orc fall forward into the mud. He approached the next one and repeated the strike. This time, the Orc hadn’t even managed to turn around; she’d been trying to free her axe from the clinging pit. When he got to the third one, he paused and then moved on; the Orc had fallen face forward into the pit and was now lying motionless. A grimace worked its way across his face; suffocating in the mud was not a great way to go.
The last Orc had managed to work his way partially out of the pit. He was leaning heavily on the edge of the pit, trying to lever his way out of the sucking soil below. Its crumbling surface didn’t support his weight; part of it gave way and let him slide partway back into the muck.
Despite that, the warrior swung at Matt as he closed in. The mace swept past Matt as he danced back. When the Orc raised the weapon, Matt darted in and grabbed the arm. He ducked low and stabbed into the space between the armor plates under the warrior’s armpit. Three stabs later, and the Orc was slumping back into the pit, his eyes already going glassy from blood loss.
Matt stood back and let the magic go. The soil reformed under the Orcs, becoming solid again. Just to be sure, he walked over to the third Orc and made sure they were dead. He stood back and looked at the elders in their stone seats again.
They were staring down at him in silence. Some of them wore expressions of anger or resentment; others were clearly afraid, their faces pale. Tanya had a hand over her mouth, and an expression of both horror and disgust. Lord Tolreth was staring down at the four dead Orcs with a stricken expression. He looked up at Matt and both rage and grief filled his face—at least until Matt smiled and spread his arms, the knife still in his hand.
“Now, I regret delaying your prior business. Fortunately, I am sure that since we are all here anyway…”
He trailed off and glanced to the side. Einreth had just entered the ring, her dueling armor reflecting the light of the stars. The large axe across her shoulder shone with a razor’s edge. She stared up at Lord Tolreth; when he saw her, his expression was suddenly filled with shock and fear.
Matt didn’t give him the chance to run. “Lord Tolreth! I apologize for delaying your contest with Lady Einreth. Fortunately, it appears she is now ready. Are you?”