Jasper tried hard not to roll his eyes. To his surprise, he felt more annoyed than afraid, but he kept a loose leash on his anger. While the Seraph elders may have agreed to spring a duel on him, it was clear from the irritation in the older woman’s eyes that she, at least, was displeased with the Djinn’s behavior. He might as well let the man dig his grave.

“If you wish the traditions to be upheld, then you must observe them yourself,” the elder snapped.

The two locked glares and after a long pause, the Djinn took a half-step back, lowering his weapon. “Then on with it,” he spat.

The Seraph elder turned back to Jasper with an apologetic glance. “The Seraphs are not like the other Djinn; unlike them, we still follow the old ways including, against some people’s better judgment,” she said sharply, “the right to demand blood as vengeance.”

“Vengeance for what,” Jasper asked, with mock innocence.

“Abdīlū believes that your kinsman - your uncle - killed his father. In the absence of the accused, he demands the right to exact justice from his kin.”

Jasper’s eyes sharpened as he stared at the angry Djinn. Wait - his father? His challenger was no spring chicken; his hair sported the same salt and pepper coloring as S̆arrābī, which forced Jasper to reassess his knowledge of his mother’s relationship. If this Seraph was Abdīel’s son, then clearly it wasn’t a case of “young love.” More like a Hugh Hefner-Holly Madison relationship. Yuck.

But it also complicated things. Even if he had no blood relation to the Seraphs at all, the man was still, in an odd sort of fashion, a relative - he was his brother’s half-brother, after all.

Unable to hide his annoyance any longer, Jasper snorted at her words. “Justice? That’s what you’re calling it? Even if my uncle is responsible,” he raised his voice as he forced the other onlookers to meet his gaze, “and I suspect there’s no proof to that effect - all of this happened before I was even born. Until a few months ago, I was living in another world altogether and didn’t even know he existed. So tell me, what justice is being served?”

A mixture of reactions crossed the elders’ faces. Two made no attempt to hide their scowls, but on a few of the rest, he saw fleeting glimpses of approval. The head elder shook her head. “I am sorry, Lord Yas̆peh, but it is our duty to enforce our traditions and we cannot ignore Abdīlū's claim to vengeance. If you choose not to fight, you are free to leave and return to the capital - he will not be permitted to harm you. But if you wish to do business with us, you must accept the challenge.”

Jasper sighed as he glanced back at the imposing warrior. His gambit had failed, but it had been worth a try. “Is it a duel to the death?” he asked.

A grimace flickered across her lips. “Not necessarily; the decision is up to the victor.”

The Djinn stepped forward again, ignoring the elder’s protests. “If you’re afraid of my axe,” the man sneered, “let me make it easier for you.” With an almost causal swing, he buried the weapon into the ground, its blade slicing through the thick rug like butter. “Fight me man to man,” the Djinn challenged.

Well, that’s exactly what the guide warned me about. Jasper sent a quick prayer of thanks to the man as he shook his head.

“There’s no need to handicap yourself. Pick up your weapon, and I will bring mine.” He let a flicker of flames run along the edge of his fingers and for the first time, Jasper saw a hint of uncertainty in the old warrior’s eyes. But after a moment of hesitation, the Djinn wrenched the axe out of the ground. “Your funeral,” he grunted.

Jasper turned to the elder. “Before we begin, my magic is, well, fire-based.” He gestured at the tent and the reed rugs. “Perhaps we should take this outside.”

The elder laughed. “No need to worry. If our materials weren’t fireproof, the village would have been burned to the ground by every precocious toddler. Feel free to use whatever spells you possess.”

“All right then,” Jasper shrugged. The reeds certainly didn’t look fireproof to him, but he decided to take the elder at her word. In the end, if the tent burns down, it’s no skin off my back, he decided as he turned to face his adversary. “Let’s do this.”

Following the elder’s instructions, the two took their stands at opposite ends of the tent, facing each other. The Seraph bowed stiffly and Jasper begrudgingly returned the favor. Then the duel started.

Jasper barely had time to throw himself to the ground before the giant axe, whirling end over end, ripped through the space he had just been standing. Abdīlū had thrown it, but it passed overhead harmlessly and buried itself in the ground. Throwing your weapon away is generally not a good idea but when you have superhuman speed, the calculus changes. No sooner had Jasper hit the dirt than the Seraph descended upon him.

Already the man was half-transformed. His human hands and legs were gone, replaced by fur and claws that slashed across Jasper’s torso. But the Royal House’s lamellar armor held, as the claws skated off it harmlessly. Rolling to the side, Jasper lashed out with his Scourge of Despair. The spectral whip curled around Abdīlu's ankles, drawing blood as it slid free. A moment later, the half-tiger's angry roars clashed with the shrieks of Jasper's summoned specters.

Not waiting for the man to regain his advantage, Jasper quickly cast Fiery Shackles, binding the Seraph in place, and prepared another Scourge of Despair. Well, this battle was short.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

But Jasper had underestimated the Seraph. Abandoning all attempts to block the specters’ blows, the man leaned as far backward as the manacles would let him. His fingers could barely grasp the tip of his axe’s shaft, but even though his leverage was non-existent, the axe could not resist his sheer strength. With another angry roar, the Djinn pulled the axe free as the specters scratched and tore at him.

In a sudden flash of light, the dull grey blade glowed a subtle white as the man swiped the axe through the three specters surrounding him. As soon as his blade came into contact with the beings, Jasper's summons were banished. With a crunch, the man demolished the manacles around his ankles and lifted his eyes to meet Jasper’s.

“Not bad for a bastard,” the man growled. “I didn’t expect you to know anything but fire magic.” He offered Jasper a lopsided grin. “But not good enough.”

Jasper stood frozen. He hadn’t expected the man to have the ability to use magic. Hell, he wasn't quite sure if the man had used magic, or if it was some sort of enchanted weapon. But either way, it was a problem. Jasper didn’t recognize the ability that had banished his specters and he definitely didn't know how to stop it. Some sort of holy magic?

The Seraph took his time, strolling forward casually. “Give up now, and I’ll let you live.” The man chuckled. “You may find yourself a few parts shy, but I’m sure your uncle can pay someone to replace them.”

Yeah, I don’t think so, buddy.

He didn’t have time to respond, though, before the man suddenly lurched into motion again. Sprinting forward like a rampaging bull, the man whipped his axe around so quickly that a crackling sound filled the air.

Throwing himself to the ground, Jasper cast another Fiery Shackles. They barely impeded the man for a second before his axe arced through the restraints, but by then he had managed to fire off two rounds of Sacred Star. The volley of small fire bombs burst forth from his fingers, curving to meet the Djinn’s oncoming rampage as Jasper rolled away from his assailant. The force of the explosions was enough to stagger him back a few feet, but as the flames disappeared Jasper was disappointed - albeit not surprised - to see the Djinn was completely unharmed. Stupid fire immunity. So both my fire and my ghosts are worthless. Great.

His opponent leaned on his axe, letting loose a mirthless laugh. “You mages always think you’re so far above us until you meet someone immune to your magic. Then what are all your fancy tricks good for?” He took a menacing step forward. “Last chance to surrender, little mage. Losing your legs is better than losing your head.”

As Jasper stared at his adversary, his anger flared white hot. “Screw you,” he spat, as his mind desperately raced for a way out. But whatever else he might have said fell unspoken as a commotion arose outside the tent. The sounds of men shouting mixed with a furious neighing as the door to the yurt was torn to shreds beneath the metallic hooves of his horse. Dapplegrim charged past the stunned onlookers, pursued by a handful of guards, and thundered to a stop beside him.

“What’s this?” The Seraph scowled, pointing his axe at the horse. “Get this creature out of here.” Dapplegrim stomped her foot, and he lost his footing as the ground beneath him rumbled, dropping him to one knee. “She’s interfering with the duel,” he roared.

Jasper had no idea how Dapplegrim had known he was in trouble, but he saw his moment of opportunity. Turning to the Seraph elder, he bowed respectfully. “Actually, this horse is closely tied to my class - some of my spells require her to work.” He pointed at Abdīlū. “If he can have his weapon, surely I should be allowed mine.”

The ghost of a smile manifested on the woman’s lips before dissipating as quickly as it appeared. “That seems reasonable,” she agreed, ignoring the outraged cries of his adversary. “If this young Djinn was a firebird, no one would argue that he should fight without his mount. Why should it be any different for this mage?” Given the way she emphasized the word, Jasper wondered if she had taken offense to Abdīlū's criticism of mages. And fortunately, if any of the other elders disagreed with her, none dared to speak up and voice their objections.

She waved for him to proceed, and Jasper, suppressing a grin, hauled himself up into the saddle, patting the giant horse’s neck fondly. “Good girl,” he murmured as he turned to face his opponent.

Whatever good humor Abdīlū had been in had vanished. Pure, unfettered rage burned in his eyes now. “So you’re as dishonorable as your uncle then,” he snorted. “Very well. I shall send you to oblivion myself.”

Roaring like a lion, the man charged across the room. He held the axe low behind them, the blade burning bright and brighter as he approached. Leaping into the air, he swung the axe viciously toward the horse, but he hadn’t accounted for Dapplegrim’s skills.

The horse danced nimbly out of his reach, and as she did, the ground shook beneath her hoofs. Rippling outward like a boulder in a pond, a low wave of dirt crashed into the man, throwing him off balance. He recovered quickly, not as easily defeated as the cultists had been, but it had given Jasper time to cast his new spell. Flame Charge.

Jasper had low hopes for the spell. Abdīlū was immune to fire, after all, but perhaps Dapplegrim's charge would be enough to damage him.

As the spell took hold, an inferno exploded around him. Within a second, he, Dapplegrim, and his sword were covered in flames. But though Jasper was too preoccupied with the duel to notice, there was something different about this fire. Neither the hearty red of a roaring fire nor the uncanny blue that his own flames took, the flames of the spell burned so hot they were nearly white.

Matching Abdīlū's angry roars with a scream of his own, Jasper spurred Dapplegrim forward, nudging the giant horse straight toward his opponent.

The yurt was huge, but Dapplegrim was no ordinary horse. In just a few strides, she had bridged the difference. The blood pounded in his veins, in time to the beating of her hooves as they closed in on the Djinn. Jasper didn’t see the flames quickly spread across the floor; he didn't hear the alarmed shouts of the onlookers. He only saw the face of his enemy.

Rearing up on her hind legs, Dapplegrim lashed out with fiery, metallic hooves at the Djinn. He blocked her with his axe, but bearing down with her full weight, she drove it deep into the ground. Instantly abandoning his weapon, the Seraph sprang back, his body contorting as he shifted fully into an enormous tiger. Claws clashed against hooves for a second, but the tiger lost the test of strength. He wasn't completely outclassed, though. While Dapplegrim was fast, her form was still not naturally inclined to excessive agility. Abdīlū was.

Twisting and turning away from the horse’s attack with an uncanny grace that bordered on prescience, Abdīlū somehow dodged her flurry of blows, managing to always stay one step ahead of her heavy, metallic hooves, but the Djinn had Jasper to contend with as well. Firing off a Sacred Star with one hand as he swung the white-flame-infused sword with the other, Abdīlu was forced to choose which blow to tank - the hooves, the spell, or the sword.

The Seraph chose poorly.