“I thought you were supposed to be off maiming and killing,” she said, muffled, “and here you are helping the elderly, and looking out for women, and givingtoysto smallchildren.”
Her voice sounded accusing, because hadn’t Simon said he’d been worried about scaring her, in this? Frightening her off? While in this moment, all Maria wanted to do was climb him, and kiss him, and even say, perhaps, that —
“Ach, this is naught, in the midst of all else I have done,” he replied, heavy, though his arms had circled around Maria too, his head pressing against her hair. “But I thank you for your kindness to Bjorn. He has no smiled thus since he came here.”
Maria only squeezed Simon tighter, his heartbeat jolting in her ear, and it almost felt painful when he pulled away. “Now come,” he said, his voice rough. “You shall now learn the rest of it, ach?”
Maria nodded, catching and squeezing his big hand, and then willingly accompanied him through yet more twisty black corridors. These ones darker and narrower than any others she’d encountered so far, and all seeming to tilt steadily downwards, until Simon strode into yet another new room, this one feeling and smelling distinctly different than the rest.
He’d left the lamp outside the door, and peering into the heavier darkness, Maria abruptly realized that this room was — alive. Not with orcs, but with… mushrooms?!
And yes, yes,mushrooms. Of an astonishing variety of colours and shapes, scattered thick across the floor, and even growing up the walls. Some had tiny button tops, others flared into strange elaborate fans, others almost looked like honeycomb — and some even glowed into the dark room, giving off a faint, blue-green light.
“This is —wonderful, Simon,” Maria said, hushed, into the silence. “Is it yours?!”
“Ach, no,” came Simon’s reply. “It is Joarr’s. Are you ready for our match, brother?”
Maria blinked around the seemingly empty room, frowning — and then realized, with a jolt of shock, that Joarr was indeed leaning there against that wall, so still and silent as to be nearly invisible. And in the mushrooms’ peculiar greenish light, he looked almost unearthly, his black hair standing on end, his eyes glinting with danger.
And rather than answering Simon, Joarr ducked with astonishing speed, his claws swiping at something below — and suddenly he stood before Simon and Maria, holding out a mushroom in each hand. Simon’s was an alarming-looking bright red, and Maria’s tiny and brown.
“Thank you, brother,” Simon said to Joarr, as he took his mushroom and tossed it into his mouth, and then shot a sidelong glance toward Maria. “He no poison you, ach?”
Maria managed a grateful smile, and then took a careful bite of her mushroom, too. Finding, to her surprise, that it was delicate and sweet, quite unlike anything she’d ever tasted before.
“It is good,” she said, with genuine relief. “Thank you.”
It was impossible to tell if Joarr was pleased with this, but next he turned to Simon, and began speaking in low, clipped black-tongue. To which Simon nodded, and then shot Maria a swift, unreadable look. “Mayhap you shall wait here, ach?” he said. “This shall no be pretty to watch.”
But Maria had already seen Simon spar multiple times now, and she was supposed to be seeing his truth, she was. “I want to see,” she said firmly. “I want to know all your truth, Simon.”
Simon’s mouth tightened, his gaze darting toward Joarr — but Joarr looked almost satisfied, and beckoned them both toward the opposite wall. To where a small crack in the stone turned out to be a steep little staircase, twisting as it sank deeper into the earth.
Simon descended with ease, holding his hand out for Maria to follow. And once she’d scrambled down after him, she found herself in another green-tinged room. But this one filled with a mass of posts and boulders, all looming with strange, shadowy menace.
Joarr had somehow disappeared again, and Simon waved Maria toward a large boulder that was propped beside the wall, with more greenish mushrooms clustered around its base. “You stay,” he ordered her, pointing his claw toward it. “And you no move, until I say we are done. Ach?”
His voice sounded slightly slurred, and Maria blinked at him, bemused — but he only jabbed his claw again, more forcefully this time. So she nodded, and awkwardly climbed up atop the boulder. Perching herself on the edge of it, and frowning at the sight of Simon actually swaying on his feet. Like he was dizzy, or — ordrugged, or…
And without warning, a black blur shot out of the shadows. Flying straight toward Simon’s unsteady form, and crashing them both to the earth with a deafening, stone-shuddering thud.
Maria choked back a shout, both hands clapped to her mouth — but Simon had jerked into motion, flailing up beneath what Maria now recognized as Joarr. His spiky-haired body moving almost too swiftly to be real, and wait, those were actualknivesin his hands, their sharpened blades glinting silver. And they were flashing toward Simon’sneck, good gods, and Simon was moving far too slowly to possibly avoid them, and, and —
His bellow was sheer agonized rage, red blood spraying wide from his shoulder — and Joarr was still slicing and swinging, striking with impossible speed. Punching Simon straight in the nose with a clenched fist, and then jabbing the knife directly toward hiseye—
Maria did scream this time, covering her own eyes with her hands — but when she dared another look, Simon had somehow rolled out of the way, and clutched for one of Joarr’s arms. And in another spray of blood — from Simon’shandnow — the knife went flying end over end across the room. While Joarr spat something in black-tongue that might have been a curse, and then leapt to his feet — and landed a vicious, brutal kick straight between Simon’s parted legs.
Simon bellowed again, ragged, broken, horrifying. His body curling double as Joarr kicked him again and again, the awful sounds of thudding flesh echoing through the room — and then Joarr’s knife was flashing again, aiming for Simon’s exposed back this time, and Maria couldn’t watch, she couldn’t —
But she couldn’t look away, either, not even as the knife dragged against bare skin, and Simon roared again. The sound like an explosion in Maria’s ears, the blood flying wide — and Joarrlaughedas he twirled the knife in his fingers, and again plunged it down toward the same wound as before —
Simon’s body lurched sideways, somehow, and the knife’s blade scraped against the floor, jagged and shrill. And Maria’s breath caught, choked, as Simon shoved upwards, blood spraying, his body swaying, and lunged toward Joarr. Just catching him by the arm, jerking him back onto the floor…
And in one more wrenching flash of movement, it was over. Joarr’s arm trapped between Simon’s, bent back, on the verge of breaking. And Joarr’s foot was kicking Simon’s leg, three times.
Simon had —won.
But as he eased up to his knees, it surely didn’t look like he’d won. Blood was streaming from his nose, his back, his shoulder, and there were deep purple bruises blooming on his face and chest. And he still swayed as he pushed to his feet, even as Joarr grasped for his arm, and held him steady.
