The tribesman stood a mere fifteen paces behind him, lazily leaning against a tree. Kion almost asked how long he’d been standing there but thought better of it. He didn’t want to give the other man the satisfaction.

Livadios gave a little yelp and looked anxiously back and forth between the two warriors.

“I have been here a while,” Licen said, rocking forward and taking two steps in Kion’s direction before stopping. “It took you longer to find the river than I thought. Did you get lost in the dark?”

Kion grunted. An unstrung bow on the back and a very short knife in his belt, he thought. Neither was a danger to him. Yet, all his instincts warned him from the seemingly unarmed man in front of him.

To the untrained eye Licen’s posture might have looked relaxed, his expression unconcerned. Kion could easily see beyond that. The tribesman was ready, leaving no openings. Coming this close showed he was unconcerned about the reach of Kion’s spear. Did you bring help? Kion thought, trying to guess where a hidden archer might be waiting. Licen’s face gave nothing away.

“I saw you in the camp,” Kion said.

To his surprise, Licen’s expression changed for the blink of an eye. “Yes, that was unfortunate. I was with one of our elders when you started that uproar.”

As far as Kion could tell, he seemed to be earnestly displeased with the situation. The young tribesman was caught between his loyalty to his people and his relationship with Tatros and the Helcenaean. But what did that mean for the here and now?

“Are you going to help us to get back to Tatros and Ditsa?” Kion asked, carefully watching the other man’s expression.

Licen shook his head. “I am sorry. I will bring them some provisions later. With enough food and if Tatros takes it slow, they should be able to get through the mountains. The trails further north take longer but they won’t run into Assanaten scouts.”

“And we?” Kion asked, slowly loosening his stance.

“The elder ordered me to catch you.” He paused, then shrugged. “I feel like I should apologize but it is what it is.”

“What?” Livadios asked. Seeing the familiarity between them, he’d just begun to relax a bit.

Kion ignored him and nodded. Licen was bound to obey his elder’s orders as Kion followed the sar’s. Anything else would be an affront to the gods. “Why here?”

Licen raised an eyebrow. “I could have caught you in the camp but I thought the Assanaten would do so immediately. When you started the fire, I actually lost you until you crossed the wall.” He seemed genuinely impressed that Kion had managed to give him the slip. But then his expression became flat. “Will you let me bind you and bring you back without a fight?”

Kion didn’t answer.

“I did not think so.” Licen sighed. His eyes were unfocused as if he was contemplating what to do next.

Kion considered attacking him right then, but something held him back. He knew he wouldn’t surprise the other man and truthfully, he still needed him. Without Licen guiding them, he likely wouldn’t find the way back to Tatros and Ditsa. Alone, he didn’t even know how to feed himself in the valley.

“You are not taking the bate?” Licen asked. The slightly arrogant smile was back. “After hearing that Assanaten boy’s story, I have to admit I am actually looking forward to this.” He started to come closer, walking casually as if he had nothing to fear.

To his irritation, Kion saw that the tribesman didn’t intend to draw a weapon at the last moment. The arrogant bastard wants to take me down barehanded, Kion thought angrily. Even for a gifted wrestler, attempting to get past a spear was a crazy thing to try.

Kion waited almost until his opponent had walked into the reach of his weapon. One step before, he launched forward, hoping to catch him off guard. The first thrust targeted the leg, Licen was just about to put his weight on.

Despite being in the middle of a step, Licen managed to shift at the last moment, keeping his thigh from being pierced.

Kion followed up immediately. In the back of his mind, he was impressed by the other man’s reflexes. Licen had reacted so fast, that it was only due to Kion’s ability to read people’s movements and his first attack having been intended to off-balance his opponent, that he managed to stay on him. His right arm moved the butt of the spear down, raising the tip up.

Licen’s smile froze as the gleaming bronze raced toward his face.

Got you, Kion thought. The triumphant feeling only lasted for the blink of an eye. Somehow the tribesman managed to tilt his head to the site. Instead of sinking into his mouth, the spear tip’s blade cut his cheek and split his ear.

Kion didn’t relent. Never slowing down, he retracted the spear, already reading Licen’s posture to select his next target.

His opponent didn’t intend to give him another attempt. Watching his opponent’s sternum, Kion saw the movement coming, but Licen was too fast. Before Kion could pull the spear back out of reach, the tribesman’s hand shot forward and closed around the shaft.

How could a man be so quick? Lion didn’t allow himself the time to wonder. The moment he felt the grip on the other end of the weapon, he gave up on ripping it free by force. Instead, he stepped in and kicked Licen in the stomach.

The man grunted under the impact and leaned slightly forward. And that was all. The grip didn’t loosen a single bit. When Licen looked up the only thing that had changed were his eyes. He was angry now.

A quick pull of incredible force let Kion almost fly forward. Before he could react at all, Licen threw an awkward punch. Managing to turn just in time, Kion caught it with his upper left arm. An explosion of pain made him gasp. The spear was ripped from his hands as he tumbled backward.

Unable to control his body Kion sank to one knee, trying to breathe the pain away through gritted teeth. He blinked to clear his vision and saw that Licen was still standing at the same spot. The tribesman ignored him while he carefully fingered the side of his face. Only a tiny bit of skin still connected the upper half of his ear to the lower one.

With his opponent’s attention temporarily somewhere else, Kion forced himself back to his feet. He could still move his fingers but that didn’t mean that the bone hadn’t snapped. As a boy in Saggab, he’d once seen a panicked horse kicking a passerby. The woman had died a day later. But how can a man have such strength? He thought.

“You are of the blood, too, aren’t you?” Licen asked, finally looking over to him. He was leaning on the spear, as his eyes studied Kion. “Who are you really, Duba?”

Kion straightened. He was slowly willing the pain back, regaining control over his body but he needed time. Time and an opening. “Kion,” he said, meeting Licen’s eyes. “They call me Kion the Dancer.” He’d never liked that name.

“That sounds silly,” Licen said, fingering the dangling piece of his ear absentmindedly. “Oh, do not make a face. Even here, far away from your great cities, we know what that means. To tell the truth, I always wanted to measure myself against a named warrior.” He flicked his ear, his mouth forming a twisted smile. “And you are not half bad even if the blood only runs thin in you. Do you even know whose line you are?”

What is that barbarian talking about? To Licen this seemed to be just an opportunity to test his strength. Even after getting his face cut, he showed no concern that he might lose. Kion considered the spear in the other man’s hand. Licen was probably right not to be concerned. Kion had surprised him, and he’d still come out ahead. Now Kion was hurt and disarmed.

He glanced to the side, looking for something, anything, that could give him an advantage. The only thing staring back at him was a fear-stricken Livadios. Seeing the young craftsman for the first time in the early sunlight, Kion could make out both traces of Helcenaean and Crimson blood in his features. If he were of pure Helcenaean stock, he might be of use right now, he thought.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Hey,” Licen said, tilting his head slightly, “I hope you are not thinking about running.” He paused for a heartbeat. “How about this? If you best me, I will let you go.”

“If I best you, I will be able to walk away anyway,” Kion said through gritted teeth. The barbarian’s arrogance was grating at him.

“True,” Licen said. “But you are never going to make it out of this valley without help. I watched you. You are not a man of the forest and mountains.” He pulled on a leather cord around his neck and a pouch appeared from under his collar. “Take this away from me and follow the stream toward the mountains. Whenever it splits, follow the one to the right. Eventually, you are going to run into my grandfather. Tell him I gave you my word that he would help you.”

Kion relaxed his posture and walked over to the stream. Normally he would never turn his back on an enemy, but right now that didn’t matter. Licen could kill him anytime he wanted. But to the barbarian, this situation seemed to be a game and he wanted to ensure that his prey kept playing.

Going to his knees he dipped both hands into the cold mountain water. It was hard to keep the pain every movement of his broken arm caused off his face. If Licen noticed his weakness and decided Kion wouldn’t be good sport anymore, he would likely end it right away.

Kion had witnessed Licen’s strength and speed. There was no outrunning him. Especially not in the forest. The only path out was right through his opponent.

“And your grandfather will help us?” Kion asked, without turning around. “After whatever happens here?”

Licen rolled his eyes. “There is a better than even chance. He does not like me that much. What do you say?”

Kion hesitated before answering. Staring down at the water, he took in his surroundings. Sunlight reaching over the mountain tops was lightening the tree tops, while their branches swayed ever so slightly in a breeze coming from somewhere. The forest was waking up and all the little noises Kion had gotten used to during his time in the valley were mixing with the babbling of the stream.

Using his unbroken arm, he splashed some water into his face. Through the transparent ever-moving wet in front of him, Kion could see stones, large and small. He’d asked himself before if the gods had made them as smooth as they were or if the water had done so over time, like a craftsman smoothening a spear shaft.

In front of him, less than two paces away from the shore, lay a particularly big boulder. Only half a finger of water washed over his flat surface. If there were more like that, I could just hop to the other side, Kion thought. But there weren’t.

With a half-smile on his lips, he rose and turned back to his opponent. “I agree,” Kion said, starting to walk toward Licen. “My spear?”

The young tribesman’s eyebrows rose before he grinned. “Of course. It should be fair.” He raised the weapon and frowned looking down at it.

For a moment Kion feared that Licen would change his mind but then he brought down the back end of the shaft over his knee, breaking off a piece slightly longer than his forearm.

He tossed Kion the shortened spear who caught it with his healthy arm and whirled it around once before pointing it at the ground between them in a stance that was more showy than practical.

“Come at me,” Kion said. “Let’s get this over with.” Placing his second hand on the shaft, he had to suppress a grown.

Despite his arrogant grin, Licen approached more carefully this time. He’d felt the bronze tip cut his flesh and was wary of it now. His eyes never lost track of it.

There lay Kion’s chance. His opponent was stronger and faster than him. Much stronger and faster than anybody he’d ever met – than a man should be. But he wasn’t experienced. Surely, his tribe would have their own ways to teach their young men how to fight, but however Licen had been taught, it had clearly been lacking.

Kion started off with a couple of stabs to the head and lower torso. Quick and short, they weren’t meant to hit but to keep his opponent at a distance. If Licen got past his spear tip or managed to grab it, the fight would be over immediately.

A feint to the left shoulder followed by a thrust to the belly almost connected and Licen had to jump backward to avoid a wound. Sloppy, Kion thought. Only Licen’s incredible speed had saved him again.

Normally, Kion would have pressed the attack, taking advantage of his enemy's lack of footwork. Having put him on the back foot, was the moment to finish him. Instead, Kion circled to the left, keeping up his defensive posture.

Licen caught himself and immediately pounced forward again, trying to smash the spear to the side with his club.

Here the difference between them showed. Licen was quick and strong and fought mostly by instinct, relying on his reflexes to cover for mistakes that would been the end of a lesser man. He knew that the tip of the spear was the only thing representing a danger to him and he focused on it like a hawk.

Kion on the other hand had been trained by the best instructors of the sar’s bodyguard. Thanks to the goddess Inashtar he’d already possessed the ability to predict other people’s movement, but countless hours of drilling had given him footwork and technique. Had he been unhurt, the fight would already be over.

Watching the other man’s center, Kion saw Licen was about to jump forward and send his spear to meet the man’s leg midway.

Licen was caught off guard but with his abnormal reflexes, he knocked the spear to the side before it could leave more than a shallow cut.

To Kion it felt as if his arm was being ripped off. This time he had to jump back, struggling to control the pain radiating through his broken limb.

He could see the other Licen’s eyes widen when he disengaged. Then the surprise turned to understanding and the tribesman pressed forward. Frustration turned to eagerness once more, as he struck out at the tip of the spear.

Using his superior footwork, Kion fell back, maintaining the distance as best as he could. His arm was growing numb, slowing down his thrusts and he was quickly driven back against the river.

Club and spear tip connected once more, and Kion couldn’t suppress the gasp. The broken arm fell away as the shaft flew to the side and this time it was the tribesman who stepped forward to kick Kion in the chest.

Seeing the kick coming, Kion took a sliding step backward just as the foot connected with the scales of his armor, avoiding most of the force. The impact still sent him several steps back and he only just managed to stay on his feet. As he regained his balance, he could hear the water rushing by behind him.

“It seems we are done,” Licen said, walking closer.

His back to the stream Kion had little room to maneuver. He took a sidestep which the tribesman immediately mirrored, not wanting to let his prey escape the corner he’d driven him into.

“Not…just yet,” Kion said through his teeth, raising his spear with his unbroken arm. “Come, you dirty barbarian!”

The barely hidden expression of triumph on Licen’s face disappeared and his eyes became hard. He pounced forward, crossing the remaining distance in the blink of an eye.

Kion tried to stab at his center but wasn’t fast enough. The tribesman casually knocked the spear aside. As his arm rose to batter Kion’s head in, Kion dropped.

This time he’d accounted for the other’s speed and timed his move perfectly. Sliding feet first into Licen’s legs, they collided.

His left leg blocked and carried by his forward momentum, Licen flew over Kion. His arm shot out reflexively to catch the fall but he was already over the stream. Water splashed as his hands broke through the surface.

Kion franticly rolled around. His injury sent screaming waves of pain through his arm, almost blinding him. He scooted backward, trying to regain enough control to climb to his feet. As he blinked away a tear, he saw that Licen’s legs weren’t moving.

Stretched out where Kion had tripped him, the man’s body lay slack. The legs rested on the shore, while the upper body was half hanging in the stream. Only the large bolder that had stopped Licen’s head less than half a finger below the surface, kept it from sinking.

Watching the water silently splashing against and around the new obstacle, Kion took long deep breaths. As the tension of the fight slowly fell away, he began to shiver. That was the closest, he thought.

Throughout his young life, Kion had faced many hairy situations and slipped the grasp of the underworld several times. Yet, he had never been this close to losing. He was just about to close his eyes and say a prayer of thanks when he heard bubbles rising to the water's surface. As he opened his eyes, he saw Licen’s body twitching.

“You’re supposed to be a corpse on your way to the underworld,” Kion said, wincing as he pushed himself to his feet. He picked up his spear and slowly walked over to the tribesman to finish it.

Coming closer he saw that the other man was indeed still alive. His face was half submerged, resting on the bolder and a constant stream of blood formed a line pointing downstream.

Another tremor ran through the body and the left hand rose out of the water only to flap around helplessly.

“Ha!” Kion stopped watching the helpless struggle. “I guess you broke your head after all.” He dropped the spear and waded into the stream. The cold bit into his legs, sucking out the warmth, but Kion almost welcomed the distraction from his arm. As he bowed over Licen he saw the leather cord around his neck and hesitated. What was he to do from here?

He couldn’t take the other man with him, nor felt he comfortable leaving him behind. When the Assanaten scouts found him, which was bound to happen sooner rather than later, he could put them on their trail. On the other hand, he was unsure about killing him. He’d been willing to do so when he had no other choice but now, he was nervous about whatever force had blessed the tribesman with his powers. The Assanaten had the powerful god Assan on their site and Kion didn’t need another deity against him.

Making his decision, he ruffly pulled Licen over. The tribesman gasped and his eyes flicked half open, without focusing on anything.

“Damn, you’re really still breezing.” Kion shook his head and pulled the leather cord over his head. “Great deity,” he said, “you servant Licen fought bravely. I shall honor him by leaving his fate to you.” With that, he pushed the body into the stream. The water took hold of Licen and slowly carried him away.

Kion nodded to himself, content with his decision. If the gods cared, they would pull him out somewhere downstream. Hopefully far, far away from Kion and Livadios, who would be walking in the opposite direction. And if they didn’t save him, the tribesman would drown and that would be fine, too.

Wading out of the water, he slipped the cord over his head. As he bent down for his spear, he winced. Spots appeared in his vision and he had to blink.

His arm was definitely broken. If he couldn’t find anybody to set it for him, he would surely lose it and that would be the end of his days as a warrior. If I don’t find anybody to set the bone, I’m going to die, he thought. He couldn’t help but giggle, as he waved Livadios to pick up the spear for him. Standing more than five paces away the craftsman looked a bit blurry.