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“You wouldn’t fight me if I weren’t injured,” I tell him. “But I’ll beat you anyway.”
He snarls. Frankly, that was his own mistake. If he had wanted to tease me for my injury, he could have gotten away with that. If he wanted to stress the honor of the fight, he could have done that too, but doing both was a misstep. I can see the discomfort on his men’s faces, and if an orc commander doesn’t have the respect of his men, he doesn’t have anything.
“Fine,” he says. He pulls his knife out of his belt, and with sharp determination, cuts a gash in his own chest. “There. That makes us even.”
He tosses the knife down on the ground. I can tell that he’s made the cut in his chest carefully. It will hurt, but it won’t limit his mobility the way mine does. Still, I can’t deny that it’s a damn good gambit.
“One other thing before we start,” I say. “I want you to swear on the War God that you will honor the results of it.”
He grimaces. “My own honor will do well enough, thank you.”
Once again, there’s discomfort among the soldiers. To demand that someone make a pledge to the War God rather than their own honor is a deep insult. Then again, breaking a bond made to the War God is a serious matter, while only a warrior has to concern themselves with their own honor. As one orc standing against an honor, it makes good sense that I’d want it.
“I don’t know anything about your honor,” I say. “At least, I don’t remember anything of it. If you intend to honor your pledge, anyway, it won’t make a difference to you to swear it to the War God as well.”
He looks uncomfortable. It’s a real commitment if he says yes, but it would cast doubt on his honor to say no.
“Fine,” he says at last. “I swear to the War God that I will keep my honor.”
He worded that carefully enough. That might be a sign that he’s considering his options. Still, that will at least make things harder. Orc soldiers have never thought much of tricky wording.
“Then let’s fight.”
The very second that I say the words, he launches a fast, swift right hook. There’s nothing I can do but put up my hands to block it. Just like I thought, he’s using the extra range he has from his height and his better mobility to keep me at a distance. He plans to pummel me until I’m weak from outside my range, then come in for the kill.
I do my best to push in toward him, but he’s doing well at keeping me at a distance. I’m taking a lot of hits, and he’s continuing to dance away from me.
I need a new strategy, and I need it quickly. I’m not going to be able to take this for too much longer.
Only one thing to do. I wait until he starts to pull back his next punch and then, I drop my block completely.
His fist slams into my eye at full power. Blood starts to flow out of my nose, and I’m almost sure that I can feel something break. That’s okay. I’ve taken harder punches than that before, and now, I can finally get in myself.
I grab his wrist with both of my hands, pressing tight enough with my nails to break his skin. His weight is already on his front foot, leaning in to hit me with all his force. With one pull, I yank him off his feet and towards me.
He growls in rage, but it’s my turn. He’s close in now, and I drive my knee into his rib and hammer him in the face and chest several times.
Finally, he manages to get his balance again and slams with his left fist. There’s no time for me to block, which is the risk of going all in on the offensive. Immediately, he dances back a few steps, trying to put me in the same spot again. But I don’t think he’ll manage it now. I’ve got him hurting and mad, and I don’t think he’ll be smart enough to stay on the defensive after that.
Just like I expect, he charges at me almost immediately. I dodge his fist and manage to catch him in the stomach. His face is vulnerable for a second, and instead of just punching, I decide to borrow my first trick from Amara. I slash at him with my nails, gouging the skin in his face and making him use one of his hands to wipe the blood out of his eyes.
That’s the moment that he hits me right in the chest, on top of the wound.
I’m not ready for the pain of it, and his first blow is immediately followed by several others, all to the same place. I’m seeing stars in the corners of my eyes now, and there’s a ringing sound in my ear as the pain seems to fill my whole body. It’s difficult to move, and the most I can do is pull into a ball, blocking as he pummels me on the back and ribs. If this keeps going, my legs are going to give way, and that’ll be it.
That’s the moment that I catch sight of Amara. She’s watching me, her eyes full of expectation. Suddenly, I feel a new determination building in my body. It doesn’t matter how much I hurt. It doesn’t matter what it takes. I’m doing this for her, not me. I need to win because she cares about me, and I’ll make damned sure not to allow some idiot like Mithil destroy anything she cares about.
It’s time to fight for Amara – and fight like her.
“You should have finished me off a few weeks ago, or found me when I didn’t have anything to fight for,” I whisper. “The one thing you shouldn’t have done is let me find a purpose again.”
Orcs fight with their arms. That’s why Mithil doesn’t expect it when I start kicking and kicking hard. A second later, he stumbles back.
And that’s when I make my final move. Instead of running in like an orc, I pounce like a wolf. His eyes widen as he sees me leave the ground, my whole body soaring through the air and then crashing into him, taking him down like a prize kill.
27
AMARA
