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T he blades clanged, sending reverberations through Jai’s wrists that near turned them numb, such was the force of the blow.

Jai had hardly time to dance back before another deep swing almost gutted him, the air thrumming as Zayn threw great haymaker blows, his vast reach such that Jai could not hope for a swift counter.

Instead, he kept his distance, side stepping with careful feet, gauging his closeness to the arena’s edge by the roar of the crowd. He could hear Zayn’s huffing breaths, feel the sweat sting his eyes, the sword hilt gritty and heavy in his hands.

Zayn lanced forward, his blade stretched far, enough to slice past Jai’s deflection. The blow glanced from his shoulder. Jai felt no pain, only the blood spring hot and wet on his arm, and the grunt of success from his opponent.

Jai leaped back, pumping his legs. Zayn was happy to let Jai scurry out of reach, for his chest was heaving, his skin already soaked with sweat. The big man was in fighting shape, but was clearly unused to battle without mana.

Jai took the time to rip a swathe of cloth from his silken shorts, binding the cut to his shoulder in an ugly, rushed knot. By now, the wound was beginning to sting, and Jai winced as he rolled his shoulder, lifting his blade once more.

Already, Zayn had caught his breath and was lumbering towards him, pressing him back against the watching crowd. Now they had fallen quiet, anticipating the next clash.

Another great swing deflected, the blade clanging against the ground, throwing up a spurt of dust. Jai was careful to never meet the blows, only knocking them askew, keeping his movements small, his energy conserved.

Zayn seemed of opposite mind, pressing forward in keen anticipation of easy victory, one Jai refused to grant him. Already, he could hear the booing from the crowd, eager for blood.

Still, he circled, the blade held outstretched in front of him. Now Zayn panted, his eyes narrowed, tongue poking between his teeth.

Jai knew he could not let the man catch his breath again. He probed, a quick step in and out of reach, his blade flicking close to the man’s face. Zayn did not even flinch, his focus razor-sharp despite it all.

‘So much for becoming a khan,’ Jai hissed, goading him. ‘A mercenary is but a step above a cutpurse.’

Zayn’s eyes widened at the challenge. But he smiled darkly in return.

‘When your lifeblood drains, Teji takes your throne,’ Zayn chuckled, his voice low so that no other could hear. ‘He will pay me well. Your treasury will buy me enough khiroi for a Great Tribe of my own.’

Jai let out a laugh, probing with his blade, Zayn batting each slash aside with grunts of exertion. With each blow, Jai let vile venom drip from his lips, prodding the enraged bull with any insult he could think of, though they felt strange in his mouth.

‘You whore yourself to a disgraced khan, nothing more. Just an attack dog for oath breakers and murderers, fighting in their pits for scraps.’

Zayn let out a roar and rushed Jai, his blade flicking left and right, Jai forced back on the defensive as the big man’s blade sliced ribbons of the air. Jai met the blade, only for Zayn to barrel forwards, letting the blades slide and lock in at the hilt.

The big man grinned, his face a rictus of effort, veins bulging, breath seething between gritted teeth. Jai screamed in return, straining against the unrelenting force that toppled him back.

Jai spat plum in Zayn’s face, the man’s shock giving Jai a chance to twist away, the blade clanging to the ground. Jai stumbled back, for his trousers had been caught in the blow, a flap of garment draped at his shins. Only luck had saved his leg, and Jai knew he could never let himself be trapped like that again.

Zayn pawed at his face, and Jai forced a grin, despite how close he had come to death.

‘Come on, big man,’ Jai said, beckoning him with his chin. ‘Come get paid.’

Zayn bellowed his frustration, but approached slowly, his legs in wide stance, sword steady.

Jai took in a deep breath, his chest heaving as he assessed the dire situation he was in. He was outclassed in strength, outreached by arm and blade, but not outwitted. The sun had moved overhead and shone directly behind Jai. Even now, Zayn squinted through sweat and sunlight.

Zayn would not chase him all over the arena. If Jai was to exhaust him, he would have to force the issue.

‘You and Teji are birds of a feather,’ Jai growled, closing in. ‘Traitors to your own blood, blinded by your ambition. Scrabbling in the dirt for a coin.’

Zayn shook his head, as if to shake the words from his skull. He stood firm, letting his blade do the talking.

‘What if I go left,’ Jai said, feinting left, before cutting low and right.

Zayn stutter-stepped, awkward in his parry, his weak knee slowing his turn, but the blow had never meant to land. Only to unbalance, frustrate.

‘Let’s try again,’ Jai said. ‘Left!’

He cut left, and this time, followed through, even as Zayn countered slow and late, backing away, confused at Jai’s wordplay. He was used to being in command, to fighting those weaker than he. Not used to being teased, to being treated as inferior.

‘You yip like a pup,’ Zayn snarled. ‘Come, let me snap your neck.’

Jai charged, his blade high, meeting Zayn’s counter before dancing to the side, his blade whipping left, right, low, high, the tempo fast, random.

Zayn’s swordsmanship was flawless, but he parried hard, and countered harder. As a man of great strength would, if he had reserves of energy to power him. But he did not.

Jai was panting too, now, for the exertions on him were almost as great, the jarring clash of blades leaving the sword heavy in his hands, his arms screaming for relief.

Still, he forced himself to slash and cut, trading his speed against Zayn’s strength. Already, the big man’s blows were slowing. Twice, Jai’s blows slipped close, and the big man stumbled back, giving up the field, stopping only when hands reached out to press him away from the arena’s edge.

‘Enough!’ Zayn roared.

He lowered his head, and charged, his sword swooping low. Jai leaped away, even as the man barrelled into him, Jai’s hilt slamming ineffectually against the great back, before a shoulder took him in the chest and they tumbled to the ground.

Jai felt the man’s meaty hands seize his throat, the blade clanging away as they rolled over and over on the ground. His fingers scraped at the man’s hands, the world’s edges darkening.

It was like plucking at a steel vice. Jai scrabbled for the blade, his hands slapping at the sun-hot rock, finding nothing.

His vision darkened, and above, Jai saw Winter plummeting towards him, the Caelite in pursuit. Then his vision was filled with Zayn’s spitting, bulging face.

‘Die,’ he hissed, leaning close. ‘I’m going to enjoy watching you piss, shit and twitch your way to hellfire.’

Jai heard a screech from above, felt Winter siezed in the air, far above. No help coming.

His world shrank, and darkened. Pain, but it was fading. The world was fading.

I...

I lost.