Jones stood in the centre of the combat circle and gestured for them to take their positions. ‘Time’s here,’ he announced, and Northcutt’s crew cheered, while Bull himself paused on the edge of the circle of stones, staring, unblinking, at Corso.
‘Last chance to back out,’ Jones taunted Lucas, with a grin.
‘Fuck you,’ Corso shouted back at him.
Jones turned in a slow circle. How long are they going to delay this? Corso wondered. With Northcutt half-naked, if they waited much longer, there wouldn’t be any challenge to fight.
‘Whoever wins will either attain or retain their citizenship, and as such he can then in turn be challenged by any non-Citizen who chooses. This is ordained under the eyes of the Most Holy, our Lord and Saviour, current fucking legalities regardless. Amen.’ Jones then trotted out of the circle.
Corso had only half-listened, surprised and shocked by the sense of keen excitement welling in him, a surge of fire that spread through his chest, making every breath deeper and harder. Blood pounded in his skull like the roar of an ocean.
They stepped into the circle from opposite sides. Northcutt made the first move, darting like lightning towards the crossed knives.
Corso was big enough and strong enough to take Northcutt on, but Northcutt moved with an unnerving, fluid grace. Corso got to the knives a fraction of a moment after the other man, in his haste slamming into Northcutt’s shoulder as they each grabbed a weapon. He felt something hot flash against his upper arm, followed by the splash of his own blood on the frosty ground.
Corso scrambled out of reach, quickly pulling himself upright just inside the circle, but now feeling the reassuring weight of the steel knife with its rubber grip in his right hand. They prowled around opposite extremes of the challenge perimeter, waiting to see who moved first.
‘Fucker,’ Corso swore under his breath, and kept swapping his knife from hand to hand, in an attempt to confuse his opponent.
With a shriek, Northcutt came running straight at him, his blade weaving patterns in front of his naked chest. He kept shifting from side to side so Corso couldn’t be sure which way to head in order to evade him.
They slammed into each other, Corso grabbing the wrist of Northcutt’s knife arm, feeling taut muscles tremble under the frozen skin. He twisted aside, attempting to slash up at his enemy’s jugular, but Northcutt floored him with a single kick.
Northcutt moved in fast, intent on making his killing blow while Corso lay prone. Without any protective gear, he could move far faster than Corso could respond.
But Northcutt had clearly expected to make a faster job of it: Corso wasn’t a trained killer like his opponent, but that didn’t mean he was unable to defend himself. If the contest didn’t end within the next few seconds, Northcutt was going to be in serious trouble from hypothermia. Corso could see how the other man was getting slower, even as he towered over him.
Without thinking, Corso brought his knee up, slamming it hard into Northcutt’s testicles. Northcutt lost his balance, sliding to one side…
… red flared across Corso’s vision and he felt the hot flow of fresh blood across his cheek. He blinked, suddenly light-headed, then tried to lift himself up, but slipped on the ice.
There was a lot of blood on the ground nearby. His blood.
Northcutt straddled him, his blade held vertically over Corso’s chest, while his free hand pressed down on Corso’s ribcage.
‘Time to-’ Northcutt started to say, before bright lights suddenly flared across them, accompanied by the deafening whup-whup of ‘copter blades.
Two helicopters dropped down next to the combat circle, while Northcutt’s crew looked around, stunned. Forgetting about Corso for the moment, Northcutt yanked himself upright and moved rapidly over to the perimeter.
Corso meanwhile rolled over and on to his knees. Panting wildly, he glanced over towards Sal, standing just beyond the circle with a hopeless expression on his face. Northcutt’s crew began running around, shouting; rifles had magically appeared in the hands of most of them. Jones was already conversing with someone who had just stepped down from the nearest helicopter.
Corso looked over and recognized him as Kieran Mansell, Senator Arbenz’s right-hand man.
‘Hey!’ Sal began shouting at Northcutt, who seemed just about to step out of the ring of stones. ‘You can’t leave the circle, Northcutt!’ he yelled. ‘That’s quitting!’
Shit. Sal was right, Corso realized. Whatever the circumstances, leaving the circle amounted to surrender. Because challenges were illegal, Northcutt wouldn’t actually forfeit his place in the lower Senate, but word of his shame would get around. Meanwhile his crew couldn’t even toss him a blanket to keep warm, because outside help was strictly forbidden under the traditions of challenge.
Corso pulled himself upright and gasped as he felt the deep wound. It made him feel sick and weak to touch it, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be enough to kill him.
Another couple of minutes spent out here in the freezing cold would do that just fine.
Mansell was escorted by heavily armed military clad in white and grey camouflage gear. Northcutt’s crew began to raise angry voices. Mansell strode on straight past Bull Northcutt and into the centre of the combat circle, sparing Corso himself only the most cursory of glances.
Corso hauled himself into a sitting position, still clutching his chest. He noticed that Mansell was wearing body armour under his long overcoat, his hair like a stiff blond brush above the square-jawed face. There was something pitiless and inhuman about the man’s eyes. Meanwhile the soldiers who had accompanied him began fanning out across the icy beach, their weapons lowered but at the ready.
‘You all know who I am’-Mansell’s voice was rough-edged and coarse-‘and I’m here on Senate authority. This challenge is illegal, and is over as of now. You’-he lifted one gloved hand to point at Northcutt-‘need to get inside. Now.’
‘I’ll kill you,’ snarled Northcutt, simply but clearly. ‘You’re inside the circle, and that means you’re taking up the challenge yourself. First I’ll kill you-and then I’ll kill him,’ he added, with a brief nod towards Corso.
Mansell glanced back at him with a derisive expression, while Northcutt’s crew remained silent. Corso saw that Bull was now becoming irrational from whatever warrior drugs he’d been taking. For a moment he thought Mansell’s security team might intervene, then he saw the man make a hand gesture, and the soldiers remained where they were.
‘I’ll forget you said that, son,’ Mansell replied finally. ‘Go join your crew. Normally I wouldn’t want to interfere, but I’m here on government business, and that makes all the difference. Got that?’