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Perhaps I should have done something other than stand there and watch The Red Hand mercenary give the boy a beating. And when the young man slipped in the mud, the mercenary deliberately delivered a hard blow to the head. I don't know whether the others heard it but I did—the boy's neck snapped and he collapsed like a sack of spilled grain.
Solis didn't stop me this time; in fact, he was striding angrily beside me as we watched the mercenary deliver a kick to the already dead teen. Solis' shout had the mercenary backing up, however, and one of The Red Hand Captains was coming in—he was probably worried there'd be trouble. He was right.
"The boy's dead," Solis knelt beside the body.
"I wasn't expecting him to fall," the mercenary whined his excuse. I wanted to kill him, right then and there. It was all I could do to keep my eyes and fangs under control.
"Take the boy and call the General," Solis snapped to the Regulars that came running up at his shout.
That's how we ended up at another judgment that night, with the General and the High Commander weighing in. All the Captains had come as well, from both sides. Apparently, the mercenary was the High Commander's prized blademaster. His malevolent nature had led him straight to the most inexperienced youth in the Farus army.
"If your man was as experienced as you say, then he should have been expecting the fall—the others were falling in the muck," Cordus complained to a Red Hand Captain.
"But no one can predict when the fall might occur," The Red Hand Captain defended his position and the mercenary. We had set up the judgment in a clear spot outside the camp, far enough away that prying eyes and ears wouldn't be privy to the proceedings.
The entire Farus army was angry over the incident, although they hadn't treated the youth very well, either. Red Hand had overstepped their bounds and I was beginning to wonder if it wasn't intentional. After all, the new King of Farus had sent the bulk of the army his country could afford on an errand, when a fourth that number might have sufficed. However, his advisors might have been worried over the number of well-trained troops the Pelipu was sending, and that, in my opinion, was a legitimate concern.
"Your soldier knew the boy had no training; how could he not? He should have asked someone with more experience to spar with him," Cordus snorted.
"He merely wished to teach the boy."
"He was not teaching; I have many witnesses to that."
"All the witnesses are your own troops." The Red Hand Captain sounded bored.
"This is getting us nowhere," the High Commander stood. "I suggest one of our own traditions to decide this. Our man, with a blade, against the best you have. The one that survives, wins."
"That is not how we handle things," the General rumbled.
"It's the quickest way to settle this. We could be at this for days," the High Commander yawned to get his point across.
"Let me," I said softly to Solis. He turned to give me a concerned look as I knelt in my accustomed place next to his campstool.
"You're good, but not that good," Desmun muttered to me from his seat beside Solis.
"I like this," the High Commander grinned maliciously. "Your smallest female, against my most experienced blademaster? That's a joke."
"Are you sure you can do this?" Solis asked me quietly.
"If I wasn't, I wouldn't volunteer. Who would go otherwise?" I asked.
"I would," Solis answered. I'd already guessed at that and wondered then if this whole incident wasn't a set-up. The High Commander wanted command of the entire army—had from the beginning. What better way to assert his authority and prove that he should be in charge, since his were the better troops and all? What better way to discredit the General's leadership as well? Prove to all that he was weak and worthy only to be second-in-command, if that? Yeah, I was extremely distrustful of the Pelipu, who seemed to have his own best interests and ideologies at heart. Too bad he wasn't here to be scrutinized.
"I want the female to go against Mardis." The High Commander was pushing his agenda, now.
"Liss, are you sure?" Solis asked again.
"Most definitely," I nodded. Mardis deserved to die. He wasn't expecting to do anything other than kill whoever came against him and then hand total control of both armies to the High Commander. He had his sights set on Solis, who was the General's best swordsman.
"Bring Mardis," the High Commander smiled. Torches were brought, as was Mardis, and a fighting square was set by placing a torch in each corner. We had to stay in that area to fight. I was learning the High Commander's rules—if you stepped outside the square, you were declared the loser and beheaded as a coward. He had some f**ked up rules, all right.
Solis, Cordus and Desmun all pulled me aside to talk to the General. "I'm not familiar with your skills, Liss, and I am placing my trust in you over this," he said softly. "If you are able, take him down swiftly."
"How fast do you want this to be?" I asked.
"As fast as possible." The General wasn't comfortable with this, I could tell. I could see the concern in his face, and that surprised me. The concern wasn't for what this might do to his command if I lost—the concern was for me.
"I'll make it fast," I nodded. Solis walked with me to the edge of the square. Mardis, wearing trousers only, was already inside the fighting square. He made quite a show of flexing bare arms and shoulders. Well, if there was a bigger ass**le on Vionn, I hadn't met him yet.
I drew both my blades and checked them over, just to have something to do. "Think you to frighten me with two?" Mardis snorted. I didn't answer him. I was tempted to launch into a diatribe over what filth and scum he was, and that wouldn't do. Dragon and the other Falchani let their blades do the talking. Mine were about to sing.
"On my signal," the High Commander stood on the perimeter of the fighting square, as did the General and the Captains from both sides. I watched Mardis. There was no way I wanted any surprises from this ass**le. I watched his left hand (which was gloved and clenched), and then noted where he was standing, extrapolating the movement he'd have to make if he threw something in my eyes. Yeah—he was a jerk on top of being an ass**le. A deadly jerk.
The High Commander shouted and Mardis moved swiftly to fling his handful of pepper flakes, but not swiftly enough. I had enough time to close my eyes against the pepper he'd tossed in my face, but his head was already severed. I stood there, sneezing violently as our audience watched Mardis go to his knees and then topple over, his head rolling out of the fighting square.
