Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Seven - A Duel

The arena was already full by noon. Duels attracted spectators from across Colvé, with courtiers, senators, merchants and servants often sharing the same benches. Hooting, catcalls and laughter consumed the chamber as the entire city spilled in through the doors, many heading directly for touts who stood around the fringes taking bets. The odds were stacked against Hal. Her opponent, the Easterner, had a fearsome reputation. A tall, muscular duellist with a square-set, implacable face, he began to limber up on the other side of the chamber.

Hal observed the Easterner across the circle with Finn at her side. "Looks strong," she remarked, gulping down her nerves and weighing up her own odds.

Finn agreed. "He'll take a bit of wearing down, this one will. Don't worry though, girl. You'll do alright."

She peered out across the spectators, noticing that Marc had already taken his seat on the very edge of the circle. He waved at her and she winked back. But it was someone else she looked for amongst the crowd. What had Meracad said back there at the academy? You know my father wouldn't let me. Of course Hal had been a fool to imagine she would be here. She would never have been able to slip past Léac: to risk his fury.

Yet Hal continued to scan the restless crowds, pushing against the deep, bitter disappointment that now threatened to overwhelm her. The same faces as always, she noticed, locked into expressions of excitement, of anticipation for the fight to come. Some, no doubt, hoping that blood might be shed ─ which often happened. A woundless duel was considered a poor show.

Her gaze swept across a small clique of apprentices, already quite drunk, laughing, spitting, back-slapping each other in camaraderie. One of them seemed different ─ intent, quiet, motionless. She stared at him, taking in the poor rags, a dun-coloured cap pulled down over tawny hair, brown eyes which were ─ of course! It was her! She'd come in disguise.

Shock coursed through Hal's veins. Meracad grinned at her, and Hal shook her head in mock reproof. And yet a strange unease ate at her excitement. If Meracad were seen, if she were noticed...Hal imagined an apprentice plucking off the girl's cap as a joke, fawn hair spilling over her shoulders, the crowd sucking in its collective breath. Léac would be called for, what little freedom Meracad had left would be taken from her. In spite of the humid, sweaty atmosphere of the arena, Hal shuddered.

Finn followed her line of gaze. "Who's that?"

"Just an acquaintance."

He frowned. "Focus, Hal."

With a swift nod she removed her jacket and jumped onto the circle, clad in leather trousers and a sleeveless black vest. Similarly dressed, the Easterner clambered onto the platform, his eyes narrowing in contempt. Not all duellists appreciated being pitted against a woman.

The fight began, spectators screaming out encouragement or threats. Unable to contain their excitement, some stood on benches shaking their fists. The two duellists prowled the circle's edge, both searching for a weakness. It was the Easterner who made the first move, aiming for Hal's unguarded left flank.

She blocked but then stepped back, overwhelmed by his strength as he brought his blade down against her own. They broke apart, the Easterner re-entering the fray with a rain of blows, forcing her to take the weight of man and metal on her forearm. Concentrate, she told herself, looking for a weakness. But what weakness? The Easterner fought with all the wild fury of a beast. She blocked again, but he slid his sword across her blade. With the tip of his rapier poised at her throat, he claimed the first point.

The crowd cheered. Panting for breath, Hal glanced at Finn, noticing the wrinkles of worry which lined his brow. Three points would win a round, and there were still two more rounds to come. Warming to his theme, the Easterner took advantage of her sudden dip in confidence. With an onslaught of blows he gained a second point, his sword scraping across her right arm.