The War God's Wife

Chapter 13: Duel

I ran the oil cloth down the blade once more.  It was already polished and gleaming, but it never hurt to be too ready.  I sighed and gave a wistful look to Lightning standing in the corner.  The foolish mortal had insisted that I not use my own blade nor magic, but to choose one from the village's armory to ensure no cheating.  I had agreed.  The mortal would need every advantage he could get, but it didn't mean I wasn't sad at not being able to show off my partner.

The blade I had chosen was an ugly, unwieldy one-handed sword.  The hilt was plain and ordinary with a disc pommel and curved guard that was little more than a strip of steel.  The blade was flat and thin, but there was no fuller to lighten it, leaving most of the weight in the blade.  It wanted to chop, which was a poor choice for a profile that seemed more adept at stabbing.  But it would do.

When I was at last satisfied that the edge was sharp and unblemished, I slid it back into its hard scabbard and set it beside a small buckler that was to accompany it.  The mortal had chosen sword and shields as the weapons of choice.  It was a standard choice:  most duels in the city were between well-practiced swordsmen who often owned specific swords for dueling, like sabers and rapiers.  Amongst the commoners, however, a standard one- or two-hander and possibly a shield was more common, with only the bow being more prevalent.  My shield was painted blue and white on the front and was rimmed with steel bands and rivets, but it was plain and light and easy to wield.  I had given it a look over when I had selected it.  It had been in acceptable shape then and seemed to be now.  It would do.

I splayed out on my cot, resting my eyes.  My body was already wired and raring to go, but I willed it to relax and conserve some energy.  The hut was dark and quiet.  Calli and Lyterias were out in the village, probably desperately negotiating with the fool and the village elders, who had all said that such traditions were absolute.  Calli had been spitting mad, screaming and raging on about the idiocy and wasteful pride of men.  Lyterias had also voiced his own contempt, but he seemed more worried about the actual outcome.

Because he knows that mortal piece of scum will die today.

There was a knock at the door.  I opened my eyes as it squeaked open.  Lyterias stepped in, looking haggard and drained.  He swallowed hard at the sight of me.

"It's time," he whispered hoarsely.

Time to kill.

I stood and collected the borrowed sword and shield.  My pace was brisk going out the door and down the path.  The sky was overcast, dark clouds hanging over the village like a shadow.  I barely noticed the journey down, and, in the blink of an eye, I was at the gate.  Already a crowd had grown in a ring around the entrance.  Excited whispers ran through the mortals.  They were so curious about me; I could almost taste the interest.  I ignored them, though.  My focus was on one mortal in particular:  the one right in front me.

Jonathan was dressed in a quilted gambeson with a linen cover over it bearing his family crest.  In one hand, he held a triangle shield of wood with steel reinforcements.  It was large enough to cover his torso but small enough to still be maneuverable.  It was painted green and black with his family crest in gold.  In his other hand, he held a one-hander.  Unlike mine, his was obviously made to be balanced to him with a twin fuller and taper to the fine point.  He twirled it easily, the gleaming blade flashing through the air.  Metal glinted on his sword hand, and I noticed that it was covered in a steel gauntlet.  I felt my lips curl into a sneer.  Such armor was permitted in this duel, but it felt like a mockery of a duel to the death.  He had an air of confidence to him, his eyes hard with determination, the corner of his lips turned slightly up.

I had fought many with that same look.

I have killed many with that same look.