Chapter 2

  Less than ten minutes passed before Francis found himself in a section of the camp where a circle of frozen dirt was. Unlike the rest of the camp, there wasn’t any snow here. Just dark, black dirt, with the frozen areas of red.

  “What kind of fool are you?” Dravik asked, handing Francis a cup of steaming liquid. “Challenging Kerhi? No one challenges her?”

  “And why is that?” Francis asked, taking the offered drink and sniffing it. He could smell a hint of some kind of plant, something fresh and perhaps a mint of some kind. “And what is this?”

  “Drink it,” the barbarian grunted. “It will help dull the pain she is about to inflict upon you. Perhaps she’ll be kind and not carve too much of your flesh off if you surrender and promise to serve her for a period of time.”

  “Serve her? What–”

  A hand waved off his question. “Drink. There is no time for me to teach you what you should know. Now then, I see you have two swords. Can you really use them?”

  Francis dipped his finger into the liquid, finding the warmth it gave to his flesh pleasant. Shaking his head, he handed the drink back to Dravik as he tasted the flavor off his warmed finger. “I can. What I really could use is some tips on how to fight her.”

  Chuckles and full-out roars of laughter came from the nearby barbarians who had quickly formed around the thirty-yard circle of dirt.

  “Yeah… don’t get hit,” the warrior replied, causing those gathered to laugh harder.

  Shaking his head, Francis turned his attention to Kerhi and where she was. Her eyes were locked upon him as she stretched. Nearby was a group of barbarians who were given some space on both sides of the section. In the middle of them was an older man and woman, both with grey hair. While they were easily the oldest ones out here, Francis could tell from how they stood that they weren’t weak.

  Maybe I should have taken the drink… these people are crazy.

  Cheers and shouts rang out as movement off to the right prompted the gathered group to start parting. Soon, a group of barbarians, all a few inches taller than most, broke through the section of onlookers. Francis noticed one head that was a foot taller than the rest.

  “Ahh, it appears you have caused Glitvall to leave his fire,” Dravik said, smiling. “Not many can do that.”

  Hearing the barbarian inform him that the warchief he had come to meet was present, Francis studied the mountain of flesh that soon arrived at the edge of the circle. He was broad-shouldered, easily twice as wide as Francis and covered in fur that almost seemed to be changing colors as he moved. His beard was braided into two sections and a mohawk of hair formed a braid down his back. Each side of Glitvall’s head was shaved, covered in tattoos. From behind his back came a shaft that looked thicker than a tent pole and Francis wondered what was connected to the other end.

  I guess out here to be the warchief, you’d have to look like that.

  Glitvall frowned at him, shaking his head for a moment before turning to look at Kerhi. A smile appeared before he clapped his massive hands, silencing the noise all around.

  “A challenge was made?” Glitvall called out.

  “Yes!” Kerhi exclaimed, bouncing slightly on her feet. “I have witnesses.”

  Half a dozen hands rose and Glitvall nodded. “Little one from Reevotort. You have made a challenge. It has been accepted. Do you wish to continue or offer yourself as a servant for a period of time?”

  Every barbarian present was looking at him and Francis could feel the ones behind him leaning forward. His Battle Presence skill was going full tilt, telling him that they all wanted him to select the first option.

  Taking a few steps from where he had been, Francis planted his feet, doing his best to appear confident and perhaps taller. “I have come from my Kingdom to offer aid, bearing a letter from both my King and his General. She dishonored me every moment since I arrived and so I told her I would defeat her and earn her respect.”

  A murmur moved through those gathered, but Francis focused on the warchief.

  He nodded slowly, his lips curling just a little bit. “Then a challenge has been made and accepted. The price for winning is being honored. The price for losing is what?”

  Kerhi moved as Francis had, standing tall and pointing a finger at him. “Death.”

  The wind suddenly sounded so much louder as everyone went silent. No one spoke and Francis felt a chill run up his spine.

  Gone was Glitvall’s slight smile. His jaw clenched a few times, cheeks and lips dancing before he sighed. “You have heard the cost if you lose. Tell me, do you accept or do you forfeit?”

  Francis could see the expressions on those gathered. Everyone of them believed he was going to die and that meant that whoever Kerhi was, she had to have earned her reputation.

  He, however, didn’t care what they thought or believed he should do. Turning toward the woman he was about to fight, Francis started to laugh. He couldn’t help it. For a solid ten seconds or more, he let out the emotions that swelled inside him.

  Stenson had sent him here to get stronger. The man had intentionally withheld information that would have proved useful for this trip. It was so obvious that Stenson wasn’t doing this to be a jerk, but to teach a lesson Francis needed to experience. He had gotten mad at the older man, knowing that the general was playing a game for himself and the kingdom.

  Every action Stenson took was for one purpose and that was to prepare Francis to be strong enough to stop the army that threatened Reevotort and the other kingdoms. Like every other fight he had been in, the greatest lessons had come through pain and death. Stenson knew that Francis didn’t fear death. That bastard even seemed to realize that sometimes Francis enjoyed the thrill of it.

  Stenson… you’re a crazy bastard, but you know me too well.

  Ignoring the strange look that even Kerhi gave him, Francis grinned. “I am fine with those terms. Only a coward fears death.”

  His opponent’s face had been like a frozen block of ice while he had laughed. No emotion, and simply blank. Yet after his words, Kerhi’s lips curled into a wicked smile and she started to laugh, making a fist and shaking it. “Yes! Perhaps the children to the south aren’t cowards after all!”

  Cheers came, and Glitvall stood there, shaking his head slightly. Finally, he held his hand and silenced the crowd. “Then it shall be to the death or admitting defeat. One will die or one will be humbled. The words have been spoken and thus cannot be stopped. Warriors to your spot.”

  Francis moved when he saw Kerhi turn and walk to where she had been. Dravik had a perplexed look on his face as he walked toward the barbarian.

  “You surprise me. Tell me, may I ask your name so that I can carve it into wood when we send your body back?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Francis replied. “You haven’t earned that honor yet.”

  A chuckle came from the large man, who nodded and then pointed at the swords on Francis’s hip. “You should make sure you can still use those. I’d hate to see you lose so quickly.”

  Frowning, Francis grasped the hilt of one of his swords and started to pull, realizing what Dravik had meant when it didn’t come free. Instead, the scabbard pulled upward, tugging at the belt that held it.

  “What the–”

  “Frozen,” Dravik said. “That’s why we use axes. One doesn’t want their blade not coming free when they need it.”

  Using both hands, Francis twisted the scabbard and the sword, breaking the ice he hadn’t realized had formed on each of the weapons.

  “Francis,” he said, holding out a hand.

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  Dravik grasped it and smiled. “Die well, young one.”

  Pulling both weapons free, Francis turned and saw that Kerhi didn’t have any weapons. She had wrapped her hands with leather and had some metal spiked tips on them. On her arms were some kind of wrappings with small spikes, also. Two other barbarians were at her feet, strapping what appeared to be similar things to her knees, shins, and boots.

  “Uh…”

  Laughter came from behind and Francis stood there, not feeling the cold as much as before, knowing that he was about to get pummeled to death most likely by a woman.

  After the pair of barbarians had finished attaching the armor Kerhi now wore, the war chief clapped his hands and silenced everyone.

  “On the horn. May your blood, which stains the ground, prove to our gods that we will bleed to protect that which they have given us.”

  His mind raced with dozens of questions but Francis pushed them all down, lowering his stance slightly, trying to sense what his opponent was about to do. He could see the light in her eyes, yet no threads were coming at him from her.

  A horn rang out and as he cautiously took two steps forward, Kerhi came at him, moving with a speed that seemed impossible.

  Franci’s mind barely had time to register what was happening, and Iron Wall and Guarded Stance were both activated as a fist came at him. His sword got in the path of the punch, the impact sending him backward and slamming him into the barbarian wall behind.

  They absorbed the impact and pushed him back into the circle.

  “Yes!” Kerhi shouted as Francis shook his head. “Come to the middle to die. I don’t want to hurt my brothers or sisters.”

  Time wasn’t on his side as the two abilities he had activated to handle that punch were already using up their time, so Francis charged, using combinations of attacks. Kerhi used her forearms and fists to deflect and stop his attacks. Not once did she bother to dodge. She let him push her backward, creating room between Francis and those gathered to watch.

  She stopped her controlled retreat when they reached the middle and began to go on the offensive, deflecting his strikes and punching or kicking at him. She moved with a speed and grace that rivaled that of Kels. Where the man used a sword to inflict pain and suffering, her body alone was all the woman appeared to need.

  One punch came at him, and Francis felt the opening, his Battle Sense telling him she was toying with him.

  [ Riposte ]

  [ Power Strike ]

  [ Quick Attack ]

  [ Flurry ]

  His blade moved with speed and power, deflecting her punch and piercing her stomach. Or that’s what Francis believed was going to happen. Instead, as the tip of his weapon struck her fur, it cut through the animal skins but didn’t go any deeper.

  A wicked grin appeared upon Kerhi’s lips as a fist came at him. He couldn’t dodge it as the woman’s speed of movement increased. Faint threads of magic could be sensed around her arm and fist as she hit his left shoulder. The impact sent him tumbling backward.

  Pain came, but was ignored. Francis grinned as he saw the notifications that appeared for a moment.

  [ Strong Bones Increased - 57 ]

  [ Pain Resistance Increased - 59 ]

  He didn’t have time to celebrate as Kerhi pressed her attack, not letting him get up. A foot with a two-inch metal spike at the tip impacted his ribs, sending him rolling and once more into the crowd of those gathered. This time, they pushed Francis back into the circle, a little kinder than they had been before.

  Blinking and ignoring the pain that wanted him to acknowledge the damage Kerhi had done, Francis chuckled. There was a hole in his armor. The woman had managed to puncture the suit Stenson had given him. Warmth started to flow down his waist, and Francis couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation that was growing.

  Warrior’s Resolve was filling him with power and the injuries she had given weren’t life-threatening yet. She would need to land more blows for that to happen.

  Francis stood, only the sword in his right hand still with him, the other a dozen yards away, having skidded across the frozen ground.

  “Impressive,” Kerhi said, moving a little bit like Cutter had in that small fighting area. She drifted to the side, light on her feet, motioning at him with a hand to come.

  “Next time, I’ll have to try some of those when we fight,” Francis stated, moving like he was seriously injured.

  Kerhi and those who were gathered all laughed.

  “Next time he says!” she shouted. “Oh, little one, there won’t be a next time.”

  The barbarian came at him, darting to the side, placing herself between him and those gathered. Francis’s left arm worked, albeit not as well as he wanted. Warrior’s Resolve helped him to overcome some of the injury, but she had broken or shattered something.

  Punches and kicks came, and more holes were created in his armor and flesh. Soon, wherever Francis moved or was sent, rolling had spots of blood, freezing quickly against the dark soil.

  His lifeforce was burning. Francis felt the power of his ability flooding him with strength beyond what he should have. Only from experience could he tell that his life force had dropped to about twenty percent. From the amount of blood he was losing and the potential damage a few more attacks might do, time wasn’t on his side.

  Limping and holding his sword like he might drop it at any moment, Francis spat at her. “Stop toying with me and end this like a real warrior. Unless you’re–”

  Kerhi came at him; gone was the smile she had been wearing, replaced by a serious look of anger.

  Her fists moved with even more power and speed but Francis had been waiting, buying his time, wanting to see if he could do any real damage to the woman.

  [ Iron Wall ]

  He got the ability up before the first fist reached him and Francis went all out.

  [ Riposte ]

  [ Power Strike ]

  [ Quick Attack ]

  [ Flurry ]

  Three times, he activated those abilities in succession, drawing upon the power that Warrior’s Resolve fed him. Each time his blade moved faster than it had before.

  Out of all the attacks, five of them struck, and three drew blood. One to Kerhi’s stomach, one to her left leg, and the other to her chest. Each one pierced a solid inch, somehow stopped by whatever magical threads Francis could sense that covered her body.

  Kerhi seemed enthralled at his blows that landed, and then her hand came forward, a hint of something different than before.

  Francis couldn’t dodge it or stop the attack and felt a claw of some kind pierce his sternum, grabbing his heart and yanking it free. At the same time, she cried out, and Francis wanted to grin when a notification came.

  [ Magic Feedback Increased - 22 ]

  With a wet squelch, Kerhi ripped her hand from his chest, a beating heart in her hand, blood flowing everywhere. The crowd roared, and she laughed, turning to show it off.

  Warrior’s Resolve honored her action and her stupidity.

  Francis felt the power that flowed through him and knew it was moments like this, where those who were stronger and believed they couldn’t be hurt showed off. They would come and he needed to use those moments to make them suffer. But he was also here to find some way to overcome the injury she had done.

  Everything Francis had expected this trip to be like didn’t happen.

  But still he smiled as he lunged forward, his sword attacking from behind.

  [ Power Strike ]

  The metal tip pierced the fur covering of her back, striking the spot he had been aiming for, and slid between the bones.

  As before, the blade didn’t pierce more than an inch, but where he struck, that inch was all he needed.

  Kerhi’s body spasmed as she fell to the ground. His blade had pierced her spine, and her legs buckled like a newborn colt.

  “You win,” Francis got out as the world began to darken. “But I earned the right to know your name.”

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