Page 32 of Sergi
“And he’s taken no credit for the battles he’s won.”
Sergi chuckled at that. “So they say.”
“I wager he could take you in a fight.” The stranger picked up a lance, checked its length, then hefted it to test its weight. After giving the tip a closer inspection, he tossed it into a heap on the floor.
“Twenty pieces says you’re wrong.” Sergi stood to his full height, the muscles in his arms and chest pulsing with eagerness to fight.
The stranger dipped his hand into a pocket beneath his armor and pulled out a handful of coins, tossing several on the table and pocketing the rest.
Sergi glanced at them before reassessing the stranger. He wasn’t as large or muscled as Sergi, and though something didn’t feel right, he’d gone too far to back down. Not now.
He pulled coins out of his pocket and tossed them on top of the others. The men murmured, excitement growing at the pending fight.
Sergi led the stranger out of the tent and onto the training field. Though both men wore their weapons, two pages followed closely with training swords. The two vampires took their places on the field, stared at the wooden swords, and then at each other. They ignored the pages and pulled their steel swords as they circled each other.
Warriors began to form a ring around them, and those who’d been training dropped their wooden swords and joined them, their voices rising in cheers of encouragement.
The two males continued to circle each other, each male studying the other. Sergi had to admit, he was impressed by what he saw. The male moved easily, his feet light and not giving away any sign of which foot he would lead with. Sergi grinned. This would be an even match, and his beast rattled its cage, ready for battle.
Tired of the slow dance, Sergi lunged. His challenger didn’t feign as expected but charged. Their swords clashed, echoing through the valley and over the yells of the crowd.
Sergi twisted as he came out of the lunge to find the other male ready with his sword raised as he came at him. Sergi dropped and rolled, coming up fast to block the strike and then delivered one of his own. It was blocked.
The male was quick on his feet, only giving away his direction as he moved to strike. Sergi had to admit his admiration was growing, but he never lessened his blows. When the male came at him before he was ready, he raised his shield and felt the power of the strike but managed to maintain his balance.
He changed tactics and went after the challenger with a continuous series of attacks until the other male was forced to use his own shield. It brought the two of them close, and before Sergi anticipated it, the male kicked Sergi, landing a blow to his stomach that sent him reeling backward.
He landed on his back but immediately rolled as the sword came down where his head had been.
With each blow he landed, the other repaid in kind. The chanting of the men grew as they began to take sides. No doubt the betting was heavy as the two continued to fight, neither giving any quarter.
It wasn’t until Sergi’s blade frayed the leather strap of the male’s armor that he caught sight of the emblem on his tunic. This was no errant warrior testing Agar’s men. This was the whelp he’d so arrogantly called out—the Master’s son.
This fight was no longer a mere challenge, no matter the coins that lay on the table in the war tent. He’d slandered the House leader’s son, and this had become a different fight indeed.
If he was going down, he wouldn’t make it easy. Sergi might have nothing left—the House of his birth gone, his family gone. But he had his honor. And no one could take that away.
The fight continued for another ten minutes until both males were drenched in sweat, and blood marred their bodies. Sergi had taken blood that morning, and his cuts healed quickly, except for one along his left arm that had cut almost to the bone. The deep lash across his thigh ached, but the skin had closed over.
The blood and gashes didn’t bother him, but he’d grown fatigued. His opponent’s movements had also slowed, but Sergi wouldn’t outlast him. And he’d rather take the honorable way out.
He dropped to one knee, laying his sword and shield at the vampire’s feet. He bowed his head, knowing after seeing the blood drip down the male’s arm and left leg that it was his leader’s right to have him put to death for the injury, even in this mock battle.
“I give you my life,” Sergi said.
The male stared down at him for several minutes. “Why do you give me your life?”
He was confused by the question, then shrugged as he looked up into crystal blue eyes. “For the grievous injury I’ve caused the Master’s son.”
He dropped his head. There should be murmuring from the men, but the silence was so complete one could hear a grasshopper move through the grass.
“I’m told you came from House Lennox a few months ago.”
Sergi nodded. “As a rogue.”
“So, you might not have learned that we don’t punish others for simply trying to best those of higher rank.”
“No, Master.”
