The Bark and the Bite
Bea took a deep breath, her hand tightening on the hilt of the longsword. Her eyes quickly scanned Maelor. He was quick. Lean. His movements were fluid and deliberate. He carried twin curved blades, the decorated hilts missing a few gems here and there, but the blades themselves were oiled, the edges keen. His stance was loose, but his eyes were focused.
One of the first things Bea learned once she was on her own was how to size up someone for a fight. Winning or losing was sometimes dependent on the littlest detail that gave away an opening or a weakness. So far, she knew that Maelor was ruled by his emotions. She had counted on that to get him down here. And now all eyes were on them. Everyone focused here.
I need something else, Bea thought to herself. He isn't giving me anything to work with.
"All bark, human?" Maelor said finally. "You spoke quite a lot, but you've been silent since I answered your challenge. It is not uncommon to hesitate now as you stand on the doorstep of the afterlife. Especially being so young and untrained. I could find a child for you to fight if you'd like this to be more fair."
She felt her cheeks burn as she squared up against him. She was still sore from her ordeal, but that's not the only thing against her right now. She was used to fighting beasts and uncoordinated bandits, not exiled Elven generals. Typically at this point she'd retreat, but she couldn't do that right now. She just had to keep him fighting long enough.
She launched herself forward, her bare feet pushing off the rough stone. She swung the sword downward as Maelor effortlessly sidestepped, diverting the path of her blade with one of his, using her momentum to spin around to her side, hitting her in the back with the hilt of his twin blade, sending her stumbling forward, falling face first into the stone.
The Emerald Blades laughed as she groaned and pushed herself back up to her feet, facing him again.
"Want to try that again? You move so slowly you're practically telling me where you're going to attack," he said, standing casually again. "Were you trained by a blind child? Possibly only fight trees?"
Bea spat blood onto the stone, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The taste of iron grounded her, sharpened her focus. She couldn't match Maelor's finesse, but she didn't need to. She just had to keep him angry and the crowd's eyes fixed on them.
"Come now, is that the best you can do?" Maelor taunted, twirling his blades with a flourish. "Perhaps I overestimated you."
Bea forced a grin, a glint of mischief in her eye. "Why rush? I'm just getting warmed up."
She began to circle him slowly, her feet feeling for the subtle grooves in the stone beneath. Maelor watched her with a bemused expression, his confidence unshaken.
Suddenly, Bea feigned a stumble, her ankle twisting as she dropped to one knee. Maelor seized the opportunity, lunging forward with a swift strike aimed at her exposed side. But Bea was counting on his aggression. In a flash, she scooped up a handful of dirt and loose gravel from the arena floor and flung it into his eyes.
Maelor recoiled, blinking rapidly as he tried to clear his vision. The crowd gasped, some booing at the cheap tactic, others leaning forward in anticipation.
"You dare!" he snarled, his composure slipping.
"All's fair in a fight, isn't it?" Bea retorted, pushing herself up. She didn't give him a chance to recover, rushing at him with a flurry of wild swings. They weren't skillful, but they were relentless, forcing Maelor onto the defensive.
He parried her strikes, but his movements were less precise now, anger clouding his technique. Bea noticed the slight hitch in his step, the way his left blade dipped just a fraction lower than before.
She aimed a kick at his knee, connecting with a satisfying thud. Maelor grunted, staggering back. The murmurs of the Emerald Blades grew louder, the tension palpable.
"You've got spirit, I'll give you that," he growled, regaining his footing. "But spirit won't save you."
"Maybe not," Bea said, circling him again. "But it might make this more interesting."
Maelor charged, his blades flashing in a deadly arc. Bea dodged one strike, feeling the whisper of steel against her skin, but the second blade sliced across her upper arm. Pain seared through her, but she gritted her teeth, using the momentum to spin behind him.
Before he could turn, she slammed the pommel of her sword into his lower back. Maelor hissed, whirling around with fury in his eyes.
"You'll pay for that!"
"Promises, promises," she teased, though her breaths were growing labored.
They exchanged blows, Bea's movements increasingly desperate but unpredictable. She knocked one of his blades aside and, in a bold move, stepped inside his guard, headbutting him square in the nose.
Maelor stumbled back, blood streaming from his nostrils. The crowd erupted, some shouting encouragement, others jeering.
"You'll regret that insult," he spat, his façade of control crumbling.
"I thought you liked it when people talked to you like that," Bea shot back, wiping sweat from her brow. Her arm throbbed where he'd cut her, but she couldn't afford to show weakness.
Maelor's attacks became more aggressive, his strikes heavier but sloppier. Bea continued to evade as best she could, each narrow miss a small victory. She led him around the arena, positioning herself carefully.
Finally, with Maelor's focus entirely on her, Bea glanced subtly toward the edge of the amphitheater where a faint wisp of smoke signaled that the plan was still in motion.
"Tired yet?" she goaded.
"Enough of this!" Maelor roared, raising both blades. "Fight me properly!"
"Why? This is much more fun," she said with a smirk.
Maelor's eyes blazed with rage. "Coward!"
"Sore loser," she retorted.
With a primal shout, he moved with surprising speed, catching her across the cheek with the flat of his blade. Stars exploded in her vision as she staggered back.
Maelor didn't relent. He pressed forward, a flurry of strikes forcing her to retreat. She blocked what she could, but blows landed on her shoulders, her ribs, her legs. The pain was excruciating.
"Look at you now," he sneered. "All your tricks amount to nothing."
Bea dropped to one knee, gasping for breath. Blood trickled from a cut above her eyebrow, stinging her eye. But through the haze of pain, she saw it—the subtle shift in the crowd's attention, the restless movements as they remained fixated on the duel.
"Any last words?" Maelor asked, lifting his blade for the final blow.
She looked up at him, a weary smile playing on her lips. "Just one," she whispered. "Duck."
Before he could react, a deafening explosion rocked the amphitheater. The ground shook violently as a section of the upper structure collapsed, sending stone and debris crashing down. The crowd erupted into chaos, screams filling the air.
"What have you done?!" Maelor shouted over the din, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Creating an exit," Bea replied, mustering her strength to stand. "Shadow ore is dangerous, you know?"
Amidst the confusion, Reinhardt appeared at the edge of the arena, beckoning urgently. "Bea, this way!"
She didn't hesitate. With Maelor momentarily distracted, she sprinted toward Doran, every muscle protesting. Maelor's enraged roar followed her.
"Stop them!" he commanded, but his voice was drowned out by the chaos.
Bea and Doran disappeared into the shadows, slipping into the tunnels beneath the amphitheater—the very ones they'd planned to use all along.