It wasn’t much as far as windows of opportunity went, but she knew she wasn’t going to get any other chances. So sure was Krel that his position of complete dominance, that she was already broken beyond repair, and that this was just about humiliating her until she accepted the inevitable. For all that he’d been able to imagine scenarios he might lose, he’d forgotten it as soon as he’d gotten the upper hand. It was kind of disappointing, really.

  Though her body screamed in protest she forced it into action, pushing herself away from his kick and getting a foot underneath her. Using it as a pivot point, she swung her other leg hard into the side of his. The last time she’d tried a strike like this, it had glanced off, mostly ignored. This time, it landed with a satisfying thump of flesh against flesh followed by the tearing of tendons and the snapping of bone. Krel yelped in mingled shock and suffering and fell back to look in confusion at what had become of his mangled leg.

  “How did you-” he began, but was cut off as she threw herself at him again.

  He barely managed to get his arms up to defend as she lashed out, grabbing for the collar of his tunic. He forced her back with a quick series of jabs that lacked the power of his earlier blows but were still strong enough to do serious damage if she let them hit. That strange feeling was welling up inside her again. Stronger and louder this time, wanting to break free from her grasp entirely. Mercilessly, she forced it back under the surface, holding it just barely in check while drawing strength from it all the same.

  The pain was still there, probably worse than when he’d been stomping on her but instead of crippling her it was just another piece of fuel for the fury she was feeling. It made her movements sharper. Stronger. And oddly, she noted, it made them crueler. A thing about spending all your time practicing tournament martial arts is that a lot of sportsmanship is built into your behavior. Things like eye gouges or groin shots wouldn’t even have occurred to her in any other fight but she didn’t just want to best this opponent, she wanted to hurt him.

  So it was that after another series of unsuccessful strikes at his face and torso, she returned her attention to his badly damaged leg. He was standing gingerly on it. Putting all the weight he could on his (as yet) undamaged right leg. She kicked with all her strength exactly where she’d already shattered it. He rewarded her efforts with a scream of pain that was most pleasant to her ears.

  “What’s the matter, Krel?” for one of only a very few moments in her life, she let all of the contempt she felt for another being into her voice. “You were so sure of things just a few minutes ago. You were going to break me, weren’t you? Don’t tell me this is all that you have to offer.”

  “You shut your mouth! A damn dark elf does not get to look down on me! I will tear you limb from limb. I will make you know unimaginable pain.”

Stolen story; please report.

  “Krel, baby,” she purred. “I’ve already known pain that you couldn’t imagine. Loss and suffering like you couldn’t conceive. Don’t believe for a second that you have anything to teach me that hasn’t been drilled into me by creatures crueler than you. I think it’s about time for you to give up, don’t you?”

  “Like hell I will, you’re about to die, woman, and you don’t even know it.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him, amused. Her absolute refusal to be intimidated seemed far more infuriating to him than any of the words she threw his way, so she leaned into that. She looked away from him entirely, showing him her back and just waving to the crowd. In truth, this was the first time she’d really noticed just how many of them were gathered. Cheering the fight on. This feeling was amazing, and she knew that it had to be driving him insane.

  “I hope that you enjoyed your moment,” said a hot whisper on her neck. “You die here.”

  Even with his crippled leg, he’d gotten to her faster than she’d expected. She felt his arms closing around her neck, eager to crush the life out of her. She was ready for it. Grasping his right arm in her hand, she pulled it away from her, opening a large enough gap to slip through and push off from his chest. Before he had time to realize what had happened, she had set herself in position to launch another bone-crushing kick, this time at his uninjured leg, and sent him toppling to the ground.

  Grasping his left arm in hers, she forced it up and away from his prone body, levering it in an unnatural angle until she heard the satisfying pop of it being forced out of its socket. While he screamed, she repeated the process on his right. She then, with exquisite delicateness, leaned over his torso to look him in the eyes. She whispered something imperceptible to any of those assembled and smirked at him. His eyes flew wide in horror and before he even knew what he was doing, he blurted the words:

  “I yield!”

  She beamed down at him with a beatific smile and hopped off of him, waving to the crowd as she did so. A number of them (mostly women, she noted) cheered loudly for her, though she saw more than a few looking annoyed at the results of the match, quite a few throwing slips of paper down on the ground in disgust. Safe to say that she’d cost some people money today.

  “Well done, combatants,” boomed the presenter. “And especially well done to you, dark elf, even if you didn’t rank first, this was an impressive showing.”

  She blinked at that, hadn’t ranked first? Whatever, it was done. Maybe now she’d have a chance to catch her breath.

  “Ohmygod, Len! That was amazing,” an impossibly gleeful voice chirped from behind. That voice was matched to a powerful pair of arms that clasped her from behind lifting her off the granite and sending stars dancing across her vision.

  Desperately she struggled to break free of the hold, tried to get her hands on her attacker, it was all for naught. The adrenaline fading from her system, she succumbed to the pain and promptly blacked out.