The drums rolled and the horns blared once more in a sharply definitive sound that hurt her ears. She tried to swallow but found her throat tight. In her chest, her heart hammered, and her hands rose to her breast in an attempt to contain it.
Hadrian waited awkwardly as if uncertain whether the fight had begun. Irawondona walked around the circle of blue burning torches, spinning his spear, rolling it across his shoulders, down his arm, and around his wrist, grinning at the crowd. He threw the weapon up, where it rotated above his head, and whirled it such that it made the sound of birds in flight. He caught it again and laughed.
“How good is he?” Arista asked Mauvin. “Can you tell by the way he moves?”
“Oh, he’s good.”
“How good? You’ve fought Hadrian. Can he beat him?”
“He’s real good.”
“Stop saying that and answer the damn question!”
“I don’t know, okay?” Mauvin admitted. “I can only say that he’s really fast, faster than Hadrian, I think.”
“What about all the whirling? What can you tell from that?”
“That’s nothing, he’s just trying to intimidate.”
“Well, it’s working on me.”
Hadrian stood still, waiting.
Irawondona continued to spin the spear with his hands. “I must commend you on at least knowing how to hold the ule-da-var,” Irawondona told him.
“Yeah, but I don’t know how to do all that fancy spinning stuff,” Hadrian replied. “Does that help? Or is it just needlessly tiring your muscles?”
Irawondona closed the distance between them with brilliant speed and slashed at Hadrian. One stroke aimed down and across with the top blade and another up with the bottom blade. Hadrian dodged the first strike and parried the second with a last-minute swing.
“That was good,” Mauvin whispered. “I’d be dead right now.”
“In the first exchange?” Arista asked.
“Yeah, contrary to popular belief, sword fights don’t last long, a few minutes at best. I watched his feet and they fooled me—he’s very good.”
Irawondona jabbed—Hadrian slapped the blade aside. He jabbed again, and again; each time Hadrian caught the stroke.
“Very nice,” Irawondona said. “Now let’s see how good you really are.”
The elf slapped the shaft of his spear, causing it to hum and the blade to quiver. He jabbed again, this time too fast for Arista to see. Hadrian blocked, caught, and slapped but then Irawondona swung.
“Duck!” Mauvin shouted. “Oh no!”
Hadrian did duck, stabbing his lower blade into the snow. Irawondona’s first stroke passed over Hadrian’s head, but then the second came down. Before it landed, Hadrian pulled on his planted pole and slid himself across the snow on his knees, leaving Irawondona to strike nothing but the bare ground.
Both combatants paused, breathing hard.
“Whoa!” Mauvin said. “That was really good.”
“You don’t move like a human,” Irawondona said.
“And you fight surprisingly well for a talking brideeth.”
The reaction on Irawondona’s face was immediate. His happy grin vanished.
Arista looked to Myron.
“I don’t know that word,” the monk replied.
“I wouldn’t think you would,” Royce said. “I taught him that one.”
Irawondona lashed out again. He moved with blinding speed, spinning forward so that the dual blades flashed in the growing sunlight, their movement visible only by the streaks of light they left. She could hear the sound of the humming knives vibrating the air.
Hadrian leapt back, looking uncertain how to deal with the oncoming whirlwind of metal. He dodged and dodged again as the blades swept close to his head and legs equally. The elf lord drove him back to the edge of the thicket wall. Once there, he flicked the bottom blade, slashing out at Hadrian’s chest. With an agile spin, Hadrian traded places and slammed the elf lord with his elbow while tripping him with the pole. Lord Irawondona quickly somersaulted to his feet with a look of shock on his face.
“You fight like…” Lord Irawondona stopped. He was breathing hard and eyeing Hadrian with concern.
Hadrian now advanced.
This time the blades collided. Staccato strikes sounded across the hilltop. Poles spun up against each other, striking, crossing, clipping. Again there were the hum of bees and then more strikes. Irawondona pushed Hadrian back, jamming him, driving him off balance, his whirling pole streaking in the golden light. Hadrian stumbled and staggered off balance, and the elf lord flashed a grin. He pressed his attack but then Hadrian made an unexpected twist and raked Irawondona across the side with his long blade. A clean stroke—Hadrian’s blade sliced from neck to leg.