At least it was a location Meleng knew the way to. He’d been there last time he’d been in Quorge, and a couple times this visit, though never long enough to actively look through the stacks.

He hurried up the stairs, Feviona close behind. There were two ways there. Which was the best way to go? The closest presumably, though that would not guarantee they came up behind the Bloods. Though surely Jorvan and the others had both ways covered. Unless, of course, Plavin had forced them to stay on one side with threats to Sinitïa or Agernon.

Damn it, he just had to choose. His tendency towards indecision would just get Sinitïa killed. It was long past time he learned to make decisions.

He would take the longer route. It wasn’t much longer and was the more likely back route. If Jorvan and the others were at only one side, they would be by the main entrance.

He hurried up one flight of stairs, then led Feviona across the level of study chambers beneath the library. Then they ascended the stairs at the other side.

There was no guard on the door—at least not on this side. Meleng nodded to Feviona, who motioned for him to step aside and approached the door. She glanced back at him. Be ready. She opened the door.

There was a Blood on the other side, helmet off, but sword drawn and ready. He started to swing, but Feviona ducked under his arm, spun round behind him. Their sword cut easily through the boy’s armour and his back. He crashed to the floor just in front of Meleng. Meleng blinked several times from the spray of blood and wiped his face.

“Sounds like we have visitors,” a voice called from inside.

Feviona was already moving forward.

Meleng stepped over the body and into the library.

“Tell your assassin,” the voice called out, “that if another of my men dies, so does the Princess. There will be no hesitation.”

Jorvan’s voice, speaking Isyarian came a moment later.

Feviona was already out of sight amongst the stacks somewhere, so Meleng just went in the direction the voices were coming from. It wouldn’t be hard to find everyone. The library was big, but it wasn’t that big. It had a large collection of books—the largest Meleng had seen apart from Scovese—but they were packed tightly into narrow aisles.

“Well?” Plavin said. “Will it acknowledge?”

“I am sure she heard me,” Jorvan said. “But she is mute and cannot reply.”

Plavin laughed. “Mute, is it? Well, well. Ah, there it is.”

“Please do no refer to her as it,” Jorvan said.

“Feviona!”

Sinitïa’s voice.

Meleng hurried up.

He turned a corner and saw Feviona up ahead at the end of the aisle. He rushed up to her.

The aisle opened up into the foyer at the library’s main entrance. Jorvan, Pedrin, and Angelida stood just inside the open doors. Several other wizards peered from the other side of the doors.

Where was Sinitïa? That had been her voice, but Meleng couldn’t get a good view because of Feviona’s wings. Even folded, they took up most of the width of the aisle, and even though she was shorter than him, her wings matched his height. Meleng squeezed beside her to get a better view.

There was Sinitïa. She was standing in the left corner of the room. Corvinian was beside her, a pale blue nimbus around him. A Blood and a Belone soldier guarded them.

The three tables that were usually spread out in this area had been upended and placed together as a sort of barrier around that corner of the room. Mitchal Plavin stood just behind the barrier.

Meleng couldn’t see Agernon, but if he was seated near the tables, he might not be visible.

“Melly!”

Meleng raised a hand and gave her a little wave.

Mitchal Plavin laughed and somehow sneered at the same time. “Who do we have here? Come forward, boy.”

Meleng swallowed. “Um…”

“I won’t ask twice.”

Meleng glanced at Feviona, who nodded. He stepped in front of her.

“Closer.”

He moved up to within a step or two of the table barricade.

Plavin looked him up and down. “I take it you’re the Eloorin who abducted Princess Sinitïa.” He glanced back at Sinitïa. “Though going by her Highness’s reaction to your appearance, I would guess you didn’t abduct her, did you? She ran off with you.”

“Please don’t hurt her,” Meleng said.

Plavin chuckled. “I can understand why the Royal Family said you’d abducted her. They would never recover from the disgrace of the truth.” He spat at Meleng.

Meleng recoiled, but the spittle didn’t hit him.

“Pathetic.” Plavin turned away from Meleng and faced Sinitïa. “You disgust me Princess. To defile your royal blood with the seed of an Eloorin. Death will be a mercy for you.”

“Enough!” Jorvan said. “You have lost. You are outnumbered. Kill anyone and you will die.”

Plavin turned round. “Not without taking several of you with me. Especially your beloved Princess. However, I will make a new offer: a duel.”

Jorvan’s eyes narrowed. “A duel?”

Plavin gave a very slight nod. “A duel. To the death. Between me and one of your number. If I win, I and my remaining men leave here unaccosted. The Princess will be returned to you. If I lose...well, you will have what you want. The Princess will still be returned to you.”

“Let me get this straight,” Angelida said. “We let you go in return for you killing one of us. Why would we do that?”

Plavin’s dull lips twitched. “Because it is a duel. An honourable way of settling disputes. And we will leave you alone afterwards. You have my word.”

Angelida spat. “It’s barbaric.”

Plavin’s lips twisted into a sneer. “You only think that because you are an uncivilised Eloorin. You have no concept of honour. But if you wish to have a brawl where several of you will die along with the Princess, then so be it.”

Jorvan placed a hand on Angelida’s shoulder. “It is okay.”

She looked at him quizzically.

Jorvan looked to Plavin. “I will duel you.”

Plavin smirked. “The choice in the end is yours, but if I might make a request. I would like to duel that.” He pointed to Feviona.

“Her,” Jorvan snarled.

Plavin smirked again. “Yes, of course. Tell her of my request. If she turns it down, then you and I will duel.”

Jorvan scowled and stared at Plavin for several moments. Then he looked to Feviona and spoke in Isyarian. When he was done, Feviona gave a slow nod.

Jorvan frowned and turned back to Plavin. “She agrees.”

Plavin smiled, his scars stretching grotesquely. “Excellent. Standard duelling rules. We may use any weapons or items in our possession or near at hand. We may use our own skills, but we may not accept aid from others. All others will not interfere.”

Angelida scoffed loudly.

“Those are the rules agreed to,” Plavin said. “Yes?”

Jorvan translated and Feviona again gave a slow nod.

“Yes, she agrees,” Jorvan said.

“Excellent. Then everyone else stand back.”

Feviona motioned Meleng aside, and he moved along the ends of the aisles to the left until he reached the wall. He had a better view of Sinitïa and Corvinian from here, and he smiled at them. Agernon was there, too, slumped against the wall right behind one of the upended tables. There was blood on his forehead. Meleng grimaced, unable to tell if he was alive or dead.

There wasn’t time to worry about that right now, though. Plavin had moved out into what little open space there was after picking up a shield from behind the barricade. Feviona had not moved.

“Ready?” Plavin said.

Feviona tilted her head slightly. I will carve out your innards and force-feed you your own shit before you die. Your wingless corpse will turn the floor red.

“Translate the hand movements,” Plavin said.

“She says…” Jorvan took a deep breath. “She says prepare to die.”

Meleng wished Plavin knew exactly what she’d said. However, he had to admit, he probably would have translated her words the same way Jorvan had.

Plavin smirked. “I have killed two Isyar before. I look forward to a third.” He placed his helmet on his head and raised his sword in front of his chest and face in a salute.

Jorvan translated his words and Feviona rolled her eyes. She raised her sword to mimic his salute.

Jorvan, Pedrin, and Angelida backed out of the room, though they remained just outside with the doors still open. Angelida was scowling, her lips twitching. Pedrin’s face showed little emotion. Jorvan just looked worried.

There was silence for a moment, and everyone was still.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Begin,” Jorvan said while also signing it.

Both combatants lowered their swords and stood there.

Meleng bit his lower lip. The room was silent.

And cold.

Weird that he would notice that now.

Mitchal Plavin lunged forward, and Feviona leapt to the side. Her free hand ran along the flat of her sword. She swung, but met only air. Plavin was surprisingly quick for someone in such heavy armour. He lunged again. Feviona jump backwards, her wings spreading slightly.

“No room in here for that, I’m afraid.” Plavin’s voice was muffled by his helmet, but there was a definite hint of amusement in it.

Feviona backed against one of the upturned tables. She traced an equation over her chest as Plavin’s sword came down on her shoulder. It rebounded and Plavin stumbled. There was only a slight tear in Feviona’s uniform and a small trickle of blood where the sword had hit.

Feviona leapt forward. Her sword slammed into Plavin’s shield, which shattered. He stumbled back again. Feviona pushed forward, but once more, Plavin sidestepped.

It went on like that for what seemed an eternity. Feviona would push forward. Then Plavin would push back the other way. They circled one another. They lunged. Feviona rolled away. Plavin stepped aside. Only occasionally did either land a blow on the other. When Plavin did, it only left a small cut—though after a while, it became apparent, each blow he landed was causing a little more damage. Feviona’s blows, on the other hand, had managed to destroy Plavin’s vambrace on his sword arm, a couple small armour pieces by his shoulder that Meleng didn’t know the names of, and finally his cuirass. However, he wore a chain hauberk underneath that.

Both combatants were dripping with sweat, though Plavin showed no other signs of tiring. Feviona on the other hand… Meleng grimaced as she stumbled against one of the stacks, her wings pressing against it. Her movements were becoming more and more uncertain, and Plavin was successfully interfering with her attempts to trace equations on herself or sword. She just wasn’t moving as fast as Meleng had seen her do earlier.

Meleng looked around at the others. Jorvan was fidgeting with his hands, and his wings were twitching. Beside him, Angelida stared with narrowed eyes. Behind the barricade, the guards were fully engrossed in watching the fight. They were not paying much attention to their prisoners.

Would it be possible to take out the guards before they could react? Meleng was sure Jorvan and Angelida working together—perhaps with Pedrin as well—could do it. Of course, that would be breaking the rules of the duel. But they were Plavin’s rules. Rules he had insisted on and they had agreed to for some reason. Angelida was right. There was no point to this duel.

But how did he convince them of that? He wasn’t standing with them, and calling out to them would just be heard, and…

Of course! The answer was so obvious. He just needed Jorvan to be looking in his direction.

Feviona crashed against the upturned table beside Meleng. Meleng stepped back into the aisle as she rolled away from another attack from Plavin. The Blood commander’s sword carved a chunk out of the table and sent a crack through it.

With the battle so close to Meleng, Jorvan would be looking this way. He just needed to get Jorvan’s attention without also getting Plavin’s.

Plavin pulled his sword free of the table and turned around to follow Feviona, who had dashed around to the other side of him. His back was now to Meleng.

Meleng signed as quickly as he could, and hoped his lack of mastery wouldn’t cause any comprehension problems. Take out the guards. They’re distracted. Then gang up on the commander.

But the rules, Jorvan said.

Forget the rules! The old woman—he had no idea how else to refer to Angelida—is right. He does not deserve an honourable fight.

Jorvan nodded and leaned over to whisper to Angelida.

Plavin’s hauberk unravelled and he stumbled backwards, almost colliding with Meleng. Feviona pushed forward, but Plavin swung out, catching her in her side. She fell to the floor, a wide gash just below her ribs spilling blood.

There was a very short cry followed by a thud. Meleng looked over. The Blood guarding Sinitïa now lay on the floor, a metal spike lodged through his head. The other guard had been wrapped in the stone of the wall, only his hands, boots, and eyes visible.

“What?” Plavin turned his head just as he was about to bring his sword down on Feviona. She rolled aside during his brief hesitation.

Angelida punched forward and another steel spike shot out. It went right through Plavin’s arm where his missing vambrace should have been. With a cry, he dropped his sword. He stumbled back, then spun round and grabbed Meleng, wrapping his good arm around Meleng’s neck.

“You dishonourable cunt!” Plavin increased the pressure on Meleng’s neck as he reached with the same arm and drew a dagger. “Another move and he dies!”

Meleng gasped for air. He could only draw the smallest of breaths.

“Melly!” Small streams of colour began dripping from Sinitïa’s eyes and fingers.

Angelida clenched her fists together, but held back on any more attacks.

“Let him go,” Jorvan said. “You will not get far.”

“We had an agreement!”

“An agreement we’re breaking,” Angelida said. “Call us uncivilised if you wish. I don’t care.”

Feviona was standing up, clutching her side. The bleeding had stopped, though, and the wound looked smaller than it had been.

“I’m going to back away, and leave through the underground tunnel. Kill me if you wish, but you had better be sure you can do it before I kill this one.” Plavin held the dagger under Meleng’s chin.

As Plavin stepped backwards down the aisle, Meleng moved his hand up. The pressure had decreased a little and he could breathe a bit easier. He could think a bit better too. He moved his hand against Plavin’s chest, but using no pressure, so Plavin wouldn’t feel it through his padded shirt. There wasn’t time to work out precise equations, and Meleng reminded himself that he needed to stop worrying about such precision. He just needed something that would go through the padding and affect the flesh and bone underneath as well. Close was all that mattered.

He traced the equation.

Plavin’s side burst open. A shattered rib flew out and lodged itself between a couple of tomes.

Plavin cried out, let go of Meleng, and crashed into the stacks on his other side.

Meleng stumbled free, and looked up.

Feviona traced an equation along her sword—their sword—and threw it. It ran right through Plavin’s chest and protruded out the other side. Plavin’s body crashed to the floor and lay still.

Meleng slid to the floor as well, breathing rapidly. He rubbed his neck with blood-slick fingers.

“Melly!” Sinitïa pushed one of the tables out of the way and ran towards him. She no longer had colours dripping from her.

Meleng grabbed a shelf to help pull himself to his feet. He slipped a little in the pool of blood at his feet. Gods, he must be getting blood all over the books.

But that didn’t really matter right now.

He threw his arms around Sinitïa. “Oh gods, Sini, I was so worried.” He hugged her tight and she hugged him back. He must be getting blood all over her too—he was covered in Plavin’s after all—but she didn’t seem to mind, so that didn’t matter either. All that mattered was she was safe.

Feviona wobbled over to them. My champion.

Sinitïa let go of Meleng. Our champion.

Feviona nodded, swaying back and forth as she did.

Are you all right? Meleng asked. You took a lot of hits.

Feviona nodded again, still swaying. I have never been better, thanks to my champion. I love you so much. And you. She pointed to Sinitïa. She took Sinitïa’s arm, leaned up on her tiptoes, and kissed Sinitïa on the lips.

Sinitïa’s eyes widened in surprise, but after a moment, she leaned back into the kiss. When they parted, Sinitïa put a hand to her mouth, blushing.

Feviona then kissed Meleng. He should have seen it coming, but she still took him unaware.

She let go a moment later. I love you both so much.

Meleng hesitated a moment, but then signed back, I love you too.

Me too, Sinitïa said.

Jorvan came up to them. “She gets a little...uh...drunk when she has used most of her energy and there is no excitement to focus her.”

“It’s okay,” Sinitïa said. “It was actually kind of nice.”

Jorvan put an arm around Feviona. “I will take her where she can rest. It has been a very long day. Thank you, Meleng. For everything. Get some rest, too. We will talk later.”

Feviona leaned her head on Jorvan’s shoulder as he led her back to the library’s entrance, where Pedrin and Angelida were helping Agernon to his feet.

Meleng smiled and looked back at Sinitïa. She was covered in blood, too. There were splotches in her hair, and it dripped over her ears and down her cheeks. Her gown was soaked in it. She couldn’t have gotten all that from him, could she? He was covered in Plavin’s blood, but…

The Blood Angelida had killed. There would have been spray from that, and he had been standing right beside Sinitïa.

She was still radiant though.

He leaned against her and held her tight again.

“Oof, you’re heavy.”

“Oh, sorry.” He hadn’t intended to place all his weight on her. He just sort of had.

Gods, he was tired. It hadn’t been apparent until now, but he’d been up all night. He’d been running around, doing so much.

Sinitïa pulled him up straighter. “Jorvan’s right. You need to rest.”

“Shouldn’t we...I don’t know...clean up or something?”

Sinitïa looked around. “Probably. But later.”

“But the blood on all the books.”

Sinitïa shrugged. “I honestly don’t know what to do about that. I guess you can’t wash books, can you? I’m sure Pedrin will know what to do. You should rest.”

“I love you,” he said.

She kissed him. “I love you too. Now, come on!”

He nodded, and arm-in-arm, they headed out of the library.