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“The deepest hour of the night, then,” the Copper said. “When the new day rings.”
Black Rock’s dueling pit lay on its lowest level. An amphitheater had been dug out beneath a point of rock, and there was room for six-score or more dragons, though the air got closed-in and stuffy when it was that full.
Fewer than a score of dragons attended this duel. RuGaard was well liked (or at least not hated outright, as Tighlia liked to put it), so most of the audience was of the Andam. They would have preferred, perhaps, to see two dragons fight, but entertainments were few enough.
SiMevolant was there, of course, in his ridiculous bumblebee-painted scheme.
After a light dinner, the Copper took a last walk around the Rock. He wondered how many dragons—or men—noticed the bats flitting about. Every now and then one landed on his head to whisper in his ear.
Finally, it was time. He descended to the dueling pit with limbs that dragged reluctantly.
I’ve never had any luck with duels. From my first one out of the egg.
The Copper made a long, reluctant show of having himself groomed before the match, trying to make the contest last as long as possible. If he went onto the sand before the attack, in all likelihood he would be killed. The Dragonblade occupied his time sharpening his sword and testing his footing in the sand of the dueling pit. He picked up a bronze dragonscale shield—how odd, the coloring was much like Father’s—and banged his sword hilt against it.
“Come on! It’s late, beast, and I’ll have this over with.”
I’ve never had any luck with duels.
The Copper dropped into the pit and lowered his griff.
The Dragonblade put on a helmet featuring two wings rising up and meeting above his head, dropped his spiked face mask, and jumped into the pit. He took six paces forward so he couldn’t be trapped against the wall. Then he waited, shield held ready and sword held loosely in one hand.
NoSohoth invoked the spirits, asking them to determine whose cause was just, and to offer strength to the combatant in the right—but took his time doing so, and had to go back and repeat several lines.
The dragon-riders began to shout and make venting noises with their lips and tongues.
At last NoSohoth finished the invocation. But then he improvised: “I give you one last chance to reconcile. You have both proved your bravery by stepping into the pit, knowing that only one will climb out again….”
Where are they?
Neither offered to forget the quarrel. NoSohoth had difficulty making out the Dragonblade’s reply, and finally asked him to step over and repeat his words, without the face mask in the way.
With that done NoSohoth droned on and on about the glorious traditions of single combat and how these two opponents set an example of courage to be learned from by eyes young and old….
Never before had the Copper been so grateful for NoSohoth’s ponderous speechifying.
“Enough, NoSohoth,” SiMevolant cried. “Or I’ll have a saddle made for the Dragonblade out of your hide. Begin!” he shouted, lest NoSohoth suffer another attack of deafness.
The Dragonblade dropped into a crouch. He whirled his sword, and it whistled an evil tune as it cut the air.
The Copper shifted stance and his wings opened a little and flapped, instinctively readying themselves.
“Now I know you. You’re the little crippled traitor! Stupid of me!”
“Not finishing me when you had the chance?” the Copper asked.
“Thinking such as you might put up a fight.”
Nothing to do but go forward. The Copper, for the first time in his life, made a show of limping.
The Dragonblade danced forward, deflected a bite with his shield, and cut the Copper in the shoulder. He moved as if he were made of air itself, a zephyr of slashing steel and stinking man-breath.
The Copper turned, swinging his stiff and broken tail, and beat his wings, kicking up a whirlwind of dust.
The men in the stands roared in displeasure, though whether they thought this was cheating, or just objected to not being able to see the action, the Copper couldn’t say.
The Dragonblade was ready for the sand. Blocking it with his shield, he came forward and opened a cut in the Copper’s vulnerable belly.
