“Who are you and on what grounds do you claim the chance to compete for Bael’s manor?” roared Hothgar, rising from his chair. His cheeks had reddened, and fury sparked in his eyes. “This tournament is only open to the champions of the lords of Nyxobas.”
“I am not a member of a lord’s legion,” said the intruder. “But by the law of the warrior, I request the chance to challenge a champion. I will take another’s position.” He turned to Sallos. “If there are any here brave enough to take on this challenge.”
Before Hothgar could respond, Sallos raised his axe. “I accept.”
Sallos circled the stranger, swinging the massive axe around his head like a drum major’s baton. Ursula held her breath. The intruder didn’t even have a weapon. What was he thinking? As Sallos neared striking range, the stranger dodged back. Sallos lifted his axe to strike, but the stranger dodged again.
“Fight me, you coward,” Sallos shouted.
The stranger remained silent.
Sallos continued circling, thrusting, striking—while his opponent weaved and dodged, just out of reach.
Fascinated, Ursula stared. She had a perfect view of the fight from here. She could see the sheen of sweat on Sallos’s forehead, but he continued to press his advantage.
From the lords’ table, Hothgar called out, “You won’t win by the grace of your dancing. A challenge can only be settled with blood.”
A few of the lords chuckled. Apparently that comment passed for a joke in the Shadow Realm.
Dodging another strike, the intruder leapt backwards in a perfect backflip. When he landed, he’d deftly produced two daggers, one in each hand.
Ursula’s throat tightened. Bloody hell. He may be small, but he’s agile as a gymnast.
Sallos didn’t seem to understand the threat. He threw back his head, laughing. “You think you’re going to hurt me with those children’s toys?”
The stranger merely stared at him, gripping his daggers.
Sallos advanced again, swinging the ax in great curving arcs. As he closed in on the intruder, he drove him closer to Ursula’s table—so close, she could actually hear the whoosh of Sallos’s blade as it sliced the air. She turned in her chair, her eyes locked on the fight.
When the stranger stood only a few feet away, he dodged toward Ursula. His foot caught on the fabric of her dress, tearing it. Her heart jumped into her throat as she watched the intruder fall to the floor. Please don’t die because of my dress.
Instantly, Sallos charged, thundering at the fallen man like a bull at a toreador. Lifting the axe above his head, he prepared to strike the coup de grace. But as the axe descended, the stranger rolled away.
He dodged the swing. Then, with a perfectly timed stroke, he slashed at Sallos’s foot.
Sallos’s face reddened, and he bellowed in pain. He spun to face his assailant, but the stranger was already on his feet, already out of reach.
Sallos charged forward, but stumbled as his foot gave way. His axe flailed wildly.
The stranger circled behind him, then dove for the floor, slashing at Sallos’s other foot with his blade. Ursula cringed at the audible snap of a severed a tendon.
The stranger had crippled him.
Sallos fell to his knees with a bellow of pain. He gripped his battle axe, glaring at the stranger, eyes red with rage. “Come fight me like a man,” he bellowed.
Ursula knew the fight was over, even if Sallos didn’t.
The stranger circled him slowly. Sallos tried to lunge for him, but the stranger merely sidestepped behind him. In a flash of steel, the stranger’s blade severed the sinews in the back of the Sallos’s knee. The demon howled, fear and rage tearing from his throat. He twisted his body, trying to keep the stranger in front of him, but the stranger was faster. With a lightning-fast strike, the intruder slashed through the other knee.
Sallos fell forward, crashing on his face with a boom that shook the hall.
Around Ursula, the demons in the hall sucked in a collective gasp. Sallos rolled on the ground, trying to get away—but the stranger was too fast. In one strike, he carved a gash across Sallos’s chest. With another, he severed the ligaments in the demon’s wrist. He worked his way around the demon, hacking through tendons, until Sallos lay immobile and trembling on the floor.
Defeated and bloody, Sallos opened his mouth and howled.
The stranger straightened, bowing to Hothgar. “I have defeated him.”
Hothgar rose. “And yet he lives.”
The stranger shrugged. “He is immobilized.”
Bileth’s nostrils flared, and angry black magic sliced the air around him. With a deafening roar, the lord leapt over the table and charged. For a moment, Ursula expected him to attack the stranger.
Instead, he snatched his son’s battled axe.
Ursula watched in horror as he raised the axe above his head. He brought it down in a ferocious strike, crushing his son’s skull with a sickening crunch of bone.
Chapter 19
Bileth lifted the axe from the brain-spattered floor, his face contorted with rage. Turning to face the stranger, he spoke through gritted teeth. “I will have my vengeance.”