Page 32 of Evan and the Alpha

Well, shit.

I toss the broken pieces of the weapon aside. The crowd roars back to life, cheering Nojak. I dodge another couple of swings, then grab his spear between my hands, forcing it up and back. Nojak stumbles, nearly stepping out of the ring. The crowd pushes him back in, propelling him toward me. I spin around, dodging him, smashing an elbow into his back as I stand up. He merely grunts; our scales are heavy armor.

He whirls, trying to stick me with the spear, but I dance out of his reach again. The next time he swings, I grab the weapon, then wrest it from his grip, flinging him across the ring. He lands in the dirt, rolling over a couple of times.

The crowd boos loudly. I raise his spear above my head, trying to get them to cheer for me instead. The gods are smiling upon me, clearly.

Nojak pauses for a moment, as though he’s considering not getting back up. Perhaps he has already foreseen the outcome of our duel.

He rises to his knees, then bends one leg. I make my move, lunging in with the spear. I feel the tip of it slide against his throat, then through flesh. He convulses.

Then he grins, his eyes flashing bright. Pain blooms in my belly, and I glance down to see that I’ve made a mistake. I got in too close; he’d picked up the broken end of my own spear and stabbed me with it, piercing through the soft, unarmored skin of my belly.

I stumble back, clutching at the wound as the blade slips free and blood pours forth. Nojak bares his teeth at me. He wheezes but holds the spear in place. Blood dribbles around the sides of it. He turns on me, his eyes flashing with anger. “The gods may hate me,” he snarls, “but they do not smile on you either.” His voice is wet; he’s choking on his own blood. He heaves a couple more breaths. I stumble, then sit heavily in the sand. I watch as his eyes glaze over, some kind of serenity at his own end overtaking him. He stops moving. He stops breathing. He tumbles forward, releasing his hold on the spear. It falls free of the wound; blood surges forth, a red torrent staining the sand of the pit.

I feel sick. I glance down at my own wound, blood gushing between my fingers.

I have underestimated the cruelty of the gods. There is no victor here.

The last thing I hear before darkness claims me is Evan screaming, like he’s the one who’s been stabbed.