Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Twenty-Four: North and South

Someone's boot was pressing into her tender ribs. Wincing, Hal stared up at Beric's grizzled face, his thick-set features folded in amusement.

"Well, what have we here?" he asked, as if to an invisible audience.

Groaning, she dragged herself into a sitting position and shook off the blankets, struggling to remember where she was. Her eyes gradually focussed on the racks of rapiers, the high windows and white walls of the training hall. There had been nowhere left to go. She hadn't paid the rent on her chambers in Riverside for two months. Besides, a night spent on the hard boards of the academy had seemed some kind of penance for her argument with Marc.

Crouching down beside her, Beric gave her hair a playful ruffle.

"Get off!" She brushed his hand aside.

"Marc's place not good enough for you, eh?"

"Too good." Still half dazed she narrowed her eyes, peering at the rows of weapons that lined the walls. "I want to duel again."

"You want to duel again," he mimicked, tugging at his beard. "And what makes you think that you're ready for it?"

"I know it's time."

"Really? Well, maybe you are a little improved physically." He surveyed her critically. "But up here?" He tapped her head with his little finger. "Are you improved up here?"

"What do you mean?"

With an explosive sigh, Beric sat down on the floor, facing her. The irony faded from his eyes. "I think it's time you and me had a little chat, Hal Thæc."

He crossed his legs, still tugging at his beard in contemplation. Hal grimaced, bracing herself inwardly for another tirade.

"I remember when you first came to this place, Hal. A young lass, ill at ease with the world, not sure of her place in it. When the palace guards asked me to give you a chance, I thought it was a joke. A girl of sixteen, and a courtier to boot? An imperial ward playing with swords?" Smirking, he shook his head as if the memory itself were too incredible to contemplate even now, five years later.

"I thought they were joking too," she murmured. "They told me you'd take me from the palace if I could prove my talent. But I never believed them. They set me up against that stable lad, do you remember?"

Beric laughed long and low, tears leaking from his eyes. "Remember? I thought he'd fairly wet himself by the time you'd finished with him. No, lass. When I saw what you could do, even then ─ your skill was raw, that's true enough. But it was there. You had ─ you have ─ an ability I've rarely seen in men, and certainly never in a woman. And over the years, you've proved my instincts right every time. I saw something of myself in you – the same stubbornness, the same resolve. If you lost a duel, you never gave up. You came back here, picked up your sword and carried on."

She felt her cheeks glow with embarrassment and cleared her throat.

"Now, Hal, I'm not saying that you lost that determination, but ..." he waved his arms expansively and smoothed down his beard. "I'm not saying Meracad was wrong, or that you were. I'm not saying you can't lose your heart for a boy or a girl, or whoever you please. But you should have the sense to see that some things, well, they just aren't going to work. It's not your fault, or hers. It's the world we live in, Hal. It's not of our making. You lost control, lass. This situation was eating away at you. I could see it, and I'll be honest, I was afraid. Now we know where it all led: you half dead in the streets, the girl ─ who knows where?"

Hal stared at the floor, biting her lip. She knew very well where Meracad was. That was the problem.

"I'm sorry, Hal, but that's the truth. Now what you need to ask yourself is this: are you strong enough to pick yourself up again and carry on fighting, or has this whole business," he spread his hands searching for a better word, "this problem ─ has it knocked the wind out of my best duellist for good? Am I going to have to look for a replacement for you, Hal? Because it will be hard to do."