Page 70 of Into the Isle

As she used her axe in different styles and motions, I was stuck in a defensive position, backpedaling, dodging her blows. I searched for an opening, listening to her grunt and growl with her teeth bared and her lip peeled back.

The entire time, my head throbbed from the first hit. Dazed, I stuttered left and right to avoid another overhand swing. I staggered back to get my bearings.

Up to this point—the first engagement of the bout—I’d been using my spear like a staff, close to my body rather than pointed at her lengthwise.

Time to put some distance between us.

Astrid breathed heavily once I backpedaled out of her range. “You’re nothing. Scared little swamp rat.”

I smiled at her.

With a roar, she charged again—

Just as I thrust the spear forward in a quick whip-snap of my wrist.

The head punched into her stomach and she grunted, doubling over for a split second—

Before spinning down the length of my spear, sliding her back along it, and coming at my head sideways.

I saw the curved blade out the corner of my eye and pivoted, spinning with her, keeping my spear between us.

She had closed the gap with one quick maneuver. In a real fight, my spearhead would have plunged into her belly and ended it. She was taking advantage of the fact these weapons weren’t real.

Astrid hacked at me. We spun in a circle, and I could hear the flow of chatter from the students watching.

A few of them groaned, and I wondered what—

Astrid’s foot landed behind my ankle, and when I backpedaled again, I tripped and tumbled. The sky grew small as I went down on my ass from her cunning maneuver. Air punched from my lungs.

She stomped down, trying to crack my neck, and I rolled out of the way.

Her axe came down next, trying to catch me where I was rolling—leading the mark—and I just kept rolling on the grass.

Next downward arc, I was ready. My spear popped up and caught her in the kneecap, throwing her aim off.

As she buckled and stumbled toward me, I rolled one last time, slapping the spear against the side of her leg while I hopped up to my feet.

Astrid went down to one knee. She hacked at a side angle, trying to get my ribs. I put an arm out to block her, knowing the “blade” wouldn’t actually hurt me much.

Jarring pain launched up my forearm, down to the bone. I ignored it, bringing my spear to the side to smack into her arm.

She ignored that, and growled, trying to wrestle with me and use the leverage of my body to get to her feet. With the hafts of our weapons locked in an X, she whipped the backend of her axe at me suddenly, like a backhanded slap toward the side of my head.

Though I’d known it was a possibility given her handle positions, I wasn’t prepared for it. I was forced back, hopping out of the way while her hands groped and pushed off me.

Astrid got her feet under her and yelled, hacking in a lunge while I dug my heels into the grass.

I watched her feet and bobbed and weaved. She was getting slower, with wider arcs and more time between her strikes. Her chest rose faster, pulse biting quicker.

My own heartbeat was slow, measured, despite the hits I’d taken.

Astrid wasn’t going to let me get to an advantageous distance with my spear—she was doing everything in her power to keep us close where she’d have the upper hand.

Including tiring herself out.

I timed her strikes, because she wasn’t as finely tuned now. She was unraveling. It only made me smile and draw her into my web, enraging her at the sight of my smirking face. She yelled to the gods, sweat pouring down her forehead, mottling her streaky green hair.

Left, right, duck, sidestep.

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