Page 30 of Tortured

We’ve drawn a crowd. All except the tavern men, who stay inside, taking care of business.

Rage and disgust course through me, and I strengthen my attacks.

Meuric laughs.

My attacks grow sloppy. He kicks me, and I fall. I manage to roll away before he can spear me in the chest.

This is no simple duel.

I spring to my feet and catch Meuric in the thigh. The slash in his pants bubbles with blood.

The red smears across my blade.

Finally.

Meuric grunts but doesn’t slow.

My single blade works hard to keep up with two. My head is spinning, but my senses are sharpened.

I have to calm my center.

Focus.

As I take a steadying breath, my premonition kicks in. I see Meuric’s next strike before it happens.

I block and knock the blade from his hand.

Single against single.

“Very good,” he says.

Carts have stopped. A line is forming. No one can pass us, yet we continue to spar. I’m not sure how long I can go on. I have never tested myself for so long.

This man is a machine.

And then he comes up from underneath and strikes my thigh. I feel the sting before I see the blood. My leg gives out, and I drop to a knee.

I continue to block as Meuric bears down on me, sliding on the ground under his strikes.

Then I lose my blade. I don’t see the last strike coming soon enough.

My hands empty, I roll to the side while favoring my leg. The blood is warm where it streams down and soaks my pants, but I can already feel the light doing its healing.

I do not worry.

Meuric halts his attacks and sticks out a hand. “You’re a worthy adversary.”

I narrow my eyes at him but accept his help. He yanks me to my feet.

“I never intended to kill you. This was a test.” He claps me on the back. “And guess what? You passed.”

Chapter 15

“Come, I know a healer,” Meuric says.

We retrieve our swords. I sheath mine. To my satisfaction, Meuric limps as much as I do.

Our wounds do mirror each other’s.

---