NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: The Adventures of the Creeping Bam (BOOK 1: The Job)

CHAPTER TWENTY: SHAYLINE

Damn it, this woman is good. It started out pleasant enough, almost like a practice match, we took a few moments to feel each other out, a few practice swipes and feints, just testing defences, capabilities, getting an idea of who we were fighting. At least that's what it seemed like. She seemed almost civil about it, despite the fact that we're trying to kill each other, that I'm certainly going to kill her at the end of this for what she's done, for what all her people have done to ours. It still felt so much like a little bit of play, just some friendly sport.

Then she backed up a little, seeming just to want to rest and reconsider perhaps, and I let her, fool that I am. I needed a moment too, not so much to collect myself but simply to get myself into the right frame of mind to kill her. Then her face just seemed to change, went cool, sharp and hard, like the blade of her sword, down to a few little spots and spackles of blood from previous kills. I'd already seen Shag's body, taken it into account, adding it to the ugly little tally I'm ready to lay at their feet. Didn't seem like it was her, though, not with those huge black arrows sticking out of his skull, but still.

I'll admit, I didn't think much of that change in expression to begin with, but I've certainly reconsidered it since. When she came at me this time it was fast, and it was hard, and downright merciless. No more playing now, she fully intends to kill me, and within a few moves it became clear that she's been holding back a lot.

That bastard sword of hers is a two-handed weapon, it's not really specifically designed for one-handed wielding, the balance isn't quite right for it, but clearly nobody told her that in training. She's as swift of hand and wickedly precise as I suspect she would be with a lighter, smaller blade, which I'd say gives away as much about her own strength as anything else, and her offhand work is just as skilled. That nasty little handaxe of hers doesn't seem like much to look at, even when it's splashed with blood like the sword, but she moves it with uncanny speed and grace that makes me wonder if she was simply born ambidextrous rather than having it drilled into her. Gods know that took me some time to learn, even with a great teacher like my father.

As we come together now I try to plunge a low-angled stab up under her defences but she traps it effectively with her sword and turns the blade away, and as I attempt to answer with a sneaky stab through the side with my knife that axe is there to hook the thrust aside. I have to twist quick to keep from losing it as she turns her offhand weapon, and as I dodge back my wrist is angry sore from the turning. I give it a good shake and slip back another step, but she doesn't press me now, simply waits where she is, infinitely patient still. I'm starting to hate that look on her face now, thoroughly unreadable, that impossible stoic calm. Like she already knows she's going to win.

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slow, adjusting my grips as I continue to watch her. Her stance isn't even particularly tight, she's loose and almost casual in the way she stands, but I can tell she's infinitely ready all the same, she'll tense and respond the moment I move. But her eyes are just fixed on mine, they never seem to move. Incredibly dark, almost black the brown in the irises is so deep. Eyes that stare right into me. It's uncomfortable enough just being under that fierce, unflinching gaze.

What the hell was I thinking, sending Roe off like that? Or starting this to begin with? A nice, honourable, fair fight? This is just stupid. It's dawning on me now she could well be too good for me to beat.

So I rethink my options, taking another step back, which is as far as I can get before I risk falling back over one of the sprawled corpses. One of the dead has a longsword in their slack hand, heavy, sturdy, well-made, similar enough to that beast she's wielding. I have speed and precision with my own slender longsword, but she's so skilled with her own it doesn't make any real difference. Maybe it's time to take a risk.