The Rogue Guardian

Chapter 23: The Duel

I'm too tired to do anything so this is like zero editing and probably awful. But enjoy this equally horrible drawing of Morane because I'm too tired to make one that looks more like her because I can't find all the good drawings I did and have nothing to base it on so I need to make a better one later. Did i mentioned i'm very tired

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I shouldn't have minded so much, but I did. Something about the atmosphere of the place made me hate the idea of this fight. Maybe it was that while the clothes they had given me were all light, white shirt, pale tan pants, Wes was dressed all in black-- opposites, costumes to put on a show. Maybe something about being dressed in white on the low stage made me think of a sacrificial offering, a ritual on an altar that would certainly not end well for me. Maybe I hated that in a way that was true-- this fight was a peace offering to the caverns that the rebels needed to placate.

Evvie handed me two knives before jumping off the stage. From the ground she motioned us to opposite sides of the stage, then, before I was ready, called out, "Begin!"

The crowd roared the word with her, a burst of sound so loud and unexpected that I flinched and Wes hurtling forward nearly knocked me off the stage. I dodged him, slid backwards, and sliced at him before he could fully turn around. He ducked, his movements so quick and calculated I was stunned and nearly didn't block his attack. From then on, it was a blur of steel and the crash of blades echoing through my bones. His stabs were quick and hard. He had the advantage with speed, but I had the advantage in physical strength, or at least I hoped. The question was which one of these would matter most.

And then there was his obvious familiarity with this. Desperately trying to find a break in his onslaught to take the offensive, I caught only glimpses of his expression, but I saw in quick glances that his mouth was set in a hard, straight line, his face grim as he slashed and cut without letting up. The sudden shouts and jeers of the crowd didn't give him a pause, but I felt the unfamiliar bouts of shouting to a worrisome snag at my attention. I suspected it was intentional-- I wasn't meant to win.

That suspicion was confirmed seconds later.

As each attempt at anything beyond the defensive was foiled, I could feel frustration building up. I was angry with the rebels, the crowd, Wes. Time to end it, even with a risk. I deflected two stabs in quick succession, metal screeching on metal, ducked my head, dropped one knife, and yanked my arm around his, locking them together just as the blade of my remaining knife was knocked loose off its handle.

A split second of shock nearly cost me the fight. I yanked myself free as Wes's blade cut dangerous close to my face. I threw myself backwards, nearly lost my balance, and before I could try to grab the knife I'd dropped I saw that its blade had been knocked loose as it clanged to the floor.

Evvie had given me tampered weapons. And from the noise it sounded like everyone else had expected this.

I gritted my teeth, heat flaring through my body, and as Wes pulled his arm back for the strike that would end the duel I channeled every ounce of anger and swung my fist into his stomach.

I preferred hand-to-hand combat anyway.

The force of it knocked him backward and I was finally where I wanted. I could see a flash of surprise and worry in his face as he blocked my punches. He had kept a knife in the switch, but it was clear he was no longer winning. And it was when he attempted a final stab I kicked his legs out from under him, grabbed his arm as he fell, and bashed his nose in.

"First blood," I said, letting him go. He fell the rest of the way to the ground, hands over his nose and blood sliding over his mouth and chin.

"God. God." His voice was muffled. "Didn't anyone tell you you're supposed to lose?"

"Must've missed the message." I wasn't feeling particularly forgiving, and when Evvie swung herself one-handed onto the stage I felt my last dregs of patience wear out. "What the hell was that?" I demanded.

She ignored me, pulling Wes's hands from his face and tilted it back. "You'll need a healer for that."

Lucien jumped up next to her and gathered the handles and blades, carefully, from the ground. "Just a test. To prove yourself."

"I thought the duel was supposed to prove myself," I snarled.

"Yes, the duel. Just not a fair one." Kay leaned against the stage with his arms crossed. "That's how it works, Adina. No one gets a fair fight. The point is that the odds are against you, because once you're with us, the odds are always against you."

"Also," Lucien said, "It's a convenient way to test my inventions."

"You invented these? What the hell is the point of a knife that breaks on purpose?"

"At the moment, I'm not sure. At any rate, it's a lesson."

"I don't need a lesson," I snapped.

Kay rolled his eyes. "Ysmay doesn't care what you need, or what you want. All recruits have to do something, and some recruits get this. You take the hand you're dealt, or if you refuse to play it, you leave."

"It's just weeding out people who aren't committed enough."

"And I'd say that's pretty important, wouldn't you?"

I wasn't in the mood to say anything he wanted to hear. "Well, congratulations, I'm playing."

"Good," Lucien said. "I think you might like to hear some of my ideas for these 'pointless' inventions."

I glared at him. "I don't want to hear anything."

Kay sighed, his posture loosening. "Listen, that attitude won't help you. What's done is done. Look at it this way-- you won. Whether you agree with the methods or not, you've very much proven yourself, and now you'll be starting out with a reputation here. That's more than most of us had. Do you really have such a problem with being put up against something you could clearly handle?"

"No," I said grudgingly, "but you must think you're extremely entitled, to make that kind of decision without giving me a choice."

"Yes, I imagine that's quite accurate. So you're in good company, since you were entitled enough to believe you knew better than an entire organization."

Something about that shocked me out of my bad mood. Maybe it's that he seemed to be joking, rather than trying to talk down to me. There was a trace of a smile on his face.

"Ysmay told you about that?"

"Yeah, she said that you left your rebel group at the capital. Didn't really explain much else, though. She just wanted to make it clear why you should get a harder trial. Come on, let's bring Wes to a healer."

"Least you can do after breaking my face," Wes agreed from the ground.