Hands were all over him as he moved through the ring of Cassias, but he realized after some confusion that they were buckling armor onto him. It was a little big, but obviously made for a human male. Heavy, too, some kind of half-plate design with a long chain shirt underneath.
A spear was thrust into his hand, the fingers of his gauntlet curling around it as if it was made specifically for him. It wasn’t perfectly balanced, but close enough that Keaton could work with it. Assuming he could figure out how to properly… use a polearm. He’d only ever fought with swords, daggers, and the occasional bow. Polearms didn’t exactly lend themselves to stealth.
“Stand before me when you are ready, and I will explain the terms,” Cassia bellowed.
Keaton let out a long breath. The armor pressed down on his ribs, but the extra brawn he’d gained from those talents seemed to help with his stamina. He could only hope they would hold up in actual combat. Duel or not, he doubted this woman was going to hold back.
Glancing to the sidelines briefly, his gaze sought out Adriana. He gave her a soft nod of reassurance, then stepped before Cassia.
“I’m ready,” he declared, forcing a confidence he didn’t really feel.
“We will fight until third blood, as I’ve stated. No magic,” she warned, narrowing her eyes. “And all wounds should be superficial. Accidents happen, dungeon lord, but if you try and gut me, I will castrate you and feed your cock to your pets.”
“I—”
“Should you make a good showing in this duel, I will agree to serve as your lieutenant, and my tribe will become your minions under my direct command. We will offer a standing army as well as skilled leatherworkers, herbalists, and cooks.”
Ah, so that was the purpose of this duel. A way to make sure he was strong enough for her to follow. Made sense.
“What if I win?”
The other Emvola started to laugh, a chorus of it all around him. Cassia, however, didn’t laugh. She looked down at him with a gleam in her eyes and a smile on her lips.
“I like your confidence, foolish as it may be. I hope you make a good showing.” She winked at him, then raised her voice to her normal level so the others could hear. “If you do not impress me, I will take my forces elsewhere, and we will meet again on the battlefield. Do you agree to these terms, dungeon lord?”
“I agree,” Keaton said, extending his arm to shake.
She took his hand, squeezing hard enough she might have crushed bone if he wasn’t protected by the gauntlet. After one firm pump, she let go and took a few steps back from him.
“At the sound of the horn, we will begin.”
He gripped his polearm, assuming a wider stance to better distribute the balance, his eyes on her, but periphery keenly aware of her hips, watching for any tell of which way she might move first.
A horn blared, and her right hip twitched.
“Begin!”
He expected the immediate lunge. She led from the right, just as he’d perceived, and Keaton was there to parry with the haft of his polearm crossed over his body. Even that wasn’t enough to fully cushion the blow, though. The polearm was slammed back against his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Keaton gasped, tried to catch his breath, and failed to stop her from springing backward to ready another attack.
All he could do was square up, this time opting for evasion. He wasn’t the sturdiest fighter and nowhere near as strong as her. Not yet, anyway. But he’d gotten out of tighter scrapes by using his wits and agility. This was no different. When she charged him, letting out a battle cry that shook the distant mountains, Keaton held his ground until the last moment, then tipped his spear into the ground and used it to push off and out of her path. The momentum carried him almost in a dance, with Keaton landing softly on his feet.
She looked at him over her shoulder and snorted, the sound almost like that of some wild animal. He braced himself for a charge again, expecting a literal bull rush, but she spoke instead. “You learn quickly.”
“You don’t survive the streets of Valfast by being stupid,” Keaton said, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a grin.
She spat in disgust. Not a fan of Valfast, then. He could understand that. Despite calling it home for so much of his life, he wasn’t the biggest fan, either. No time to have a civil discussion about it, though. She was approaching him again, getting just inside his range. Taunting him, probably. Keaton knew the moment he lashed out to try and attack her, she’d be on him with brutal, relentless strikes.
He couldn’t just spend this whole duel evading, though. He had a feeling she had much more stamina than him. She’d probably be able to keep this up indefinitely if she paced herself, whereas the muscles in Keaton’s arms were already starting to burn from the unfamiliar weight of such a heavy weapon. He needed to find some way to disarm her, then maybe he’d have a chance.
As she came at him again, he foolishly thrust an arm out to dry and deter her halberd just past the head. It might have worked, had there not been so much force behind her swing. As it was, Keaton heard something crack and felt a shock of pain that sent an icy chill through his veins. He gritted his teeth, adrenaline finally kicking in in earnest, and continued to push back against her, deterring the halberd that had come inches away from his throat. Either she had a lot more control than he was giving her credit for, or her talk of superficial wounds was horse shit.
A sudden fear for his life did wonders for Keaton’s fighting prowess. He pushed her away with a growl, the injured arm — almost certainly broken — not a bother in the slightest beyond the distant pound of his pulse.
“That doesn’t count as first blood,” he warned her.
“I agree,” she said, amusement glinting in her eyes.
Amusement and something else that made his blood heat. His conscious mind might not have recognized that level of ancient, primal lust when he saw it, but his subconscious certainly did. It made him want to act recklessly; to knock her legs out from under her and follow her to the ground. Keaton had just enough awareness to force that idea away, though, and he squared up with her once more as she attacked again, dodging to the side. Not far enough, it seemed. He felt something collide with his shoulder, like a sack full of bricks being swung full force. Only after his shirt split, the flesh underneath it opening up in a gash that trickled blood down his arm, did Keaton realize she’d rammed him with her horns.
“No magic, but that’s allowed?” he groused, sidestepping a follow-up swipe of her halberd.
“If you had horns, I would allow you to use them, too. Pity you don’t.” She flashed him a smile that looked a little unstable, if Keaton was honest with himself. She was enjoying this too much. “First blood is drawn. Two more to go, dungeon lord.”
His shoulder throbbed, his arm ached, but adrenaline still pumped through his veins, keeping him on his feet. He was determined to at least get one good blow in. One swipe. One trickle of blood, just to say he accomplished something during this duel. If he was to die here, he didn’t want to go out having been completely outmatched.
She was fast, though, and too powerful for him to endure head-on. He’d need to get behind her if he wanted to have any hope.
He studied her next move, the way her fingers wrapped around the haft of her halberd, the flow of energy from her hooved feet all the way up to her arms. She was putting most of that into forward momentum when she rushed him, charging with the confidence that she’d either meet a wall and the force alone would topple it, or she’d be able to skid to a stop and turn back around to do it again. He had to exploit that, which means baiting her again. He stood there, looking for all intents and purposes as if he wanted to parry her, or perhaps sneak in a counterattack.