The rapid depletion of stamina had taken its toll on both of us.
“My tolerance for pain got better,” I choked, “after a week in your brother’s dungeon.”
For just a moment, a frown graced his mouth, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. “Nothing more than you deserved.”
I forced myself to rise. “You didn’t think so then.”
The Black Mage approached, one step at a time as the hem of his black robe dragged along ice.
“Back then I thought you were someone else.” His eyes met mine, and what I saw was bitter and cold. A wasteland of desolation and hate. “My mistake.”
A trickle of heat slunk down the back of my neck as the two of us returned to our fighting stance, a bit worse for wear than before.
My mind raced as I tried to decide which casting to turn to next. From the throbbing ache in my head, I knew my stamina was dangerously close to its end. I had depleted close to a third of my stores on the trek up the mountain and Darren was no ordinary mage. He held nothing back; each attack was like a battering ram against my head.
I bit down on my cheek as I caught sight of gleaming metal across the away. I had dropped my sword before the lightning, and now I was too far to reach it. I had two arm sheaths with daggers, but they meant close combat if I didn’t cast. Darren would deflect any attack from a distance; my only hope was to press the advantage up close.
But that meant exposing myself.
I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to stand that close and do what needed to be done. All those years of training had never prepared me for the enemy being someone I knew. Someone I loved.
Someone I still—
Don’t finish that thought. I fished the first dagger from its holds and made my approach.
“Run out of magic already, love?” Darren’s smile was cold.
“You fought three mages and I’ve only had you.” I gave him my best smirk; it was too strained, and I knew he wouldn’t believe it for a second. “I think the odds are in my favor now.”
“You must have forgotten our duel in Langli.” Darren discarded the belt and scabbard at his waist. Then he reached into his robe. Attached to his upper arms were daggers identical to my own. “I don’t need magic to beat you, Ryiah. I don’t even need two blades.”
Darren pulled the first dagger to his palm, flipping the hilt up and then down with the flick of his fingers. I watched it spin outside his wrist.
Could this really be it? That our final battle would come to this?
The two of us circled closely now, our eyes locked on the other’s form. I could feel my pulse against my throat. It beat louder and louder as I took a daring step forward, the blade drawn back against my side.
Darren crooked the blade from his shoulder. He was going to counter my attack with the traditional grip. I might have speed with the reverse, but his stance had reach. He didn’t need agility when he knew every lunge would outdistance my own.
But we both had to play to our strengths. Dexterity for the reckless lowborn and brute strength for the boy who had it all.
It was anyone’s guess, but I was determined to win.
I was the first to lunge. Something about the wait, about wanting to end this before my emotions played a part, had me foregoing my regular approach.
I swept in low and slashed to the left as Darren stepped just out of reach.
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
Our boots scratched against the slippery ground.
Again, I lunged, this time with a feint high and a jab toward the ribs.
But Darren wasn’t fooled. He caught my arm and twisted, bearing down on my blade arm as he swung his dagger down from above.
I ducked and rolled, but not before the hot bite of metal caught my shoulder in passing.
I narrowly avoided a curse as I fell back, dripping red. The wound was shallow, but Darren had drawn first blood, and it didn’t bode well this early in the fight.
Darren lunged forward, and I sidestepped his attack. I sent a cross-punch, slashing out diagonally with my blade.
The Black Mage blocked the attack with his fist, but the defense wasn’t without its cost. The serrated edge of my dagger pressed down against his skin. A bit of steam rose when his blood hit the floor.
The two of us continued to circle and lunge.
I tried not to think about how this moment would end, but with every passing second, it was becoming harder to pretend.
Our chests rose and fell heavily to match the beat of our pulses. A couple of minutes and then one of us would land a cut. A moment later, the other would follow.
Back and forth. In and out.
And blood.
Cutting, slashing. Gods, it was getting harder just to breathe. Sweat stung my eyes, and I grew dizzier with every lunge.
I wondered who would be first to collapse.
Stop worrying about the end, just focus on now.
I swung wildly as my boots slipped on ice.
Darren’s arm came up and out.
For just a moment, our wrists caught in one solitary blow. My breath came out hard and fast. I swallowed, feeling the dance of magic just below my skin.