Nevin watched the man in black negotiating with the dark-haired warrior through unblinking eyes, his attention trained so intensely on their conversation that he failed to notice his hands trembling from the effort of squeezing the coarse stone handle of his weapon for so long. The object's tip quivered in the air a scant few inches above the ground before him. Blood thudded through his head to the rhythm of his apprehension.

“He just walked right up into the middle of them,” Nevin grumbled, his words breathy and short. An hour had passed in the minute since Theis had left their sides. What could they possibly be talking about for so long?

Aidux glanced back over his shoulder, his silver peepers landing on the quivering Sharasil and following it up to rest on Nevin's clammy face. “Why are you standing so hard? Nothing is happening yet.”

“I'm not...standing hard. I'm ready, just in case.”

The lynx turned and placed a paw on Nevin's hands, pushing down until the tip of the weapon came to rest on the rain-soaked earth. The grasses nearest the storm-gray metal stilled as a thin coating of ice creeped outward from its surface. “You're gonna wear yourself out. Loosen up and breathe. We'll be okay.”

Swallowing, Nevin nodded. He took a few deep, calming breaths and relaxed his grip on the coarse stone handle. His hands immediately stopped shaking.

The cat rolled his toes on Nevin's hand. “That's better. Now, wiggle your arms, your butt, your head. Get all that nasty tension out.”

Without objection, Nevin did as he was told. He flapped his elbows and tilted his head this way and that. He rolled his left shoulder in both directions, then did the same with his right, feeling the tension in his neck and back partially relax.

He paused as he flexed his right shoulder, cocking his head to the side. He flexed it again.

Nothing. No pain.

That's weird. It's only been a day. I was certain I'd really hurt it.

“Huh.” Aidux flicked his ears in the man in black's direction.

Nevin reflexively tightened his grip once more. “What's wrong?”

“I think they're gonna fight.”

“What?! All of them?”

Aidux shook his mane, spraying droplets of water all around. “No, just him and the talking guy. Sounds like they'll let us go if he wins, but we'll still have to give him your Shaffodil.”

“Sharasil.”

The cat frowned. “That doesn't sound right.”

Nevin blinked incredulously. “That...no, he can't do that. As soon as one of them tries to touch it, it'll blow their hand off. He knows that!”

The object's tip rose up off the ground, snapping free of the thin membrane of ice. It made no sense. The man in black claimed he had come to Elbin specifically to retrieve the strange weapon. Why offer to give it up even in the case of a win?

As the soldiers spread out to frame the would-be arena for Theis and their dark-haired leader, Nevin's apprehension only increased.

What could the man in black be plotting?

**********

Theis flipped the left corner of his cloak over his shoulder, and in a careful, deliberate motion, eased his sicklesque blade free of its scabbard and into the light.

Grobin's mouth turned down in appreciation. “That's some of the highest quality steel I've ever seen. Where'd you find it?”

Theis ignored the question. “It isn't steel.”

“Well, what about the cloak?” He drew a circle around Theis in the air with his sword. “You can't possibly be planning to fight in that bulky old thing.”

“The cloak stays.” He snorted derisively. “Take me longer to remove than this fight will last, anyway.”

Light chuckles arose from the gathered soldiers. Grobin shot the crowd a scowl. “Cocky prick,” he spat. “What makes you so sure?”

Theis closed his eyes, taking a moment to crack his neck on both sides and arch his back until a satisfying series of pops ripped their way up his spine. Exhaling a cloud of warm mist through the narrow mouth-slit in his mask, he opened his eyes and stilled.

“Because no duel ever has.”

There was a sadness in Theis' flat response that wouldn't have gone unnoticed in a less tense situation, but Grobin's ego was far too focused on the man's casual condescension to catch it.

The dark-haired soldier offered a quick salute, bringing the back of his fist to his chin.

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

“Well...a first time for everything, I suppose.”

Then, he lunged.

The man in black's soul blossomed out from the darkness of his mind, rising up to paint the snarling warrior stretching out across the space between them in targeted auras of hazy white light. Each glowing point told him something about his opponent, some detail that might assist him in battle.

In Grobin, there were three.

His boots, failing to properly gain purchase on the damp grass, limited the speed in which he narrowed the distance between them. His grip, white-knuckled and rigid around the leather-wrapped hilt of his saber, would make disarming him comically easy if performed at the right moment. His free arm, drawn close to his hip, would make regaining his balance at end of the lunge more difficult than if he held a more open stance.

Theis sighed quietly to himself as he easily sidestepped the attack, backing away from the circular dais and out into the open space among the other soldiers. Grobin tried to plant his feet and turn, but the wet grass refused to grab onto his boots and the man skid farther than intended.

As Theis put a few more steps of distance between them, he quickly looked in Nevin's direction. The boy and his cat stood right where he'd left them, enraptured in the unexpected fight playing out at the center of the clearing. To his credit, the boy looked more angry than scared.

Egged on by the cheers of encouragement around him, Grobin found his feet and whipped around, cutting the air in a wide, whistling arc. He lunged again, more sure of himself this time, but Theis shuffled back, just out of reach.

“What are you, a dancer?” he growled. “Fight back!”

The curved edge of Grobin's saber cut x's through the air as he pressed his attack, forcing Theis in a constant retreat. A weathered stone brushed the man in black's boot, and as he stole a glance behind him, he realized how close the dark-haired soldier had driven him toward the ruins of the old hovel. A few more steps and Theis would find himself wading through piles upon piles of similar bulky stones.

Not a good place to be during a sword fight.

Jerking his hood around, Theis caught the triumphant grin plastered across Grobin's face as he leveled the flat of his blade at his opponent's head.

Metal flashed, and Theis slammed the back of his sword against Grobin's so hard the unprepared soldier stumbled gracelessly back. A sharp ringing pierced the air, and Grobin paused to move his saber to the other hand.

“Gods,” he grunted, shaking his sword arm to relieve the bone-vibrating sting left behind by the lightning-fast parry. His hand quivered as he flexed his numb fingers, his confidence faltering at Theis' show of strength.

Theis let his own sword hang at his side. “Little shame in yielding to your betters.”

The silence was palpable. Somewhere in the clearing, one of the soldiers chuckled. No one cheered anymore.

Grobin's seething facial expression could melt glass. Grabbing the hilt with both hands and with a feral cry, the dark-haired soldier lifted his saber high overhead and rushed headlong into the readied form of Theis.

Flipping the bluntside of his blade forward, Theis took a breath and ducked out of the way of Grobin's downward cut and spun around to his side. Metal hit stone behind him, filling the narrow gap between the two men with a fan of white-hot sparks and peppering his cloak with stone chips. At the crest of his rotation, Theis exhaled and sent the back of his sword crashing into both of Grobin's legs above the ankles. Without the traction of dry ground to stabilize him, the sheer force of the blow ripped the warrior from his feet and propelled him horizontally into the air.

“Shiiii-”

Theis clapped his palm onto the man's chest and slammed him down into the grass, stealing the word from his lips.

Straightening before Grobin could gather his wits, Theis planted a boot on the man's sword arm. He nudged the tip of his sword against the soldier's plate leather cuirass, keenly aware that, should he decide to put any weight behind it, he could easily pierce the hardened leather and end the man's life.

“You're done, soldier,” Theis said, no hint of malice or insult evident in his gravelly baritone. “Time to call it.”

Fury flickered in the man's eyes as he tried in vain to yank his sword arm free of Theis' boot. He looked around, but none of his men dared move to help.

Then, his gaze sank to his belt to linger on a small knife sheathed at his left hip.

Theis shook his head, moving his blade to hover just over Grobin's cheek. “Don't do it.”

But the man didn't listen. The dark-haired soldier ripped his knife free and swung it awkwardly toward his opponent's leg. Bounding backward, Theis danced across the heap of stones making up the remains of the hovel until he was safely out of reach.

With a flourish, he flipped his cloak over his left shoulder and bowed his head. “Adasi Shuur is complete. Time to pay up.”

“Bullshit,” Grobin spat, glaring daggers. “I didn't yield.”

Theis flicked a hand across the left side of his mahogany mask, then pointed at Grobin's face. The man wiped the back of his knife hand over his cheek and winced. A tiny smear of blood colored the skin of his hand.

“First to blood. Your words.” Theis jabbed a finger at the fuming soldier. “An oath struck to an oath fulfilled. Like I promised, we'll leave the object behind when we leave.”

Grobin jammed his knife back in its sheathe. “And the way out?”

Theis paused briefly before answering. “Considering your poor form just now, I should just leave you here to burn. But I'm not going to punish all for the mistake of one.

“Once I've collected everyone's weapons, I'll take one of your people into the forest when we leave. When I'm comfortable with the distance we've put between us and the rest of you, I'll tell your man the way and send him scurrying back to save you.”

He shrugged. “Won't get you rich, but it's the best deal you're going to get.”

Grobin planted his hands on his hips and fumed. After a number of seconds passed with no signal from their leader, the soldiers surrounding the two reluctantly began pulling out their weapons, many of them shaking their heads in astonishment at the surprising outcome of the fight.

“Not good enough,” Grobin grumbled.

Everyone stopped.

The man leveled his blade once more at the man in black. “I don't care about the object. It's nothing to say we couldn't find it. I don't much care for this Vincht anyway.

“But you? You're coming with me.”

Theis crossed his arms beneath his cloak. “That wasn't the deal.”

“We still outnumber you. I don't care how fast you are or how good you are with a sword, you can't possibly beat eight soldiers in a fight.”

“Adasi Shuur was struck and-”

“Oh, I don't give three polished fucks about your stupid nature god.” Smirking, Grobin faded back toward the circular stone dais. “I'll take my chances. Damned or not, I'm not letting a three thousand shil bounty just walk out of my life.

“Surrender now, or your friends won't survive the day.”