Day 16 of Midwinter, Sunset

Dueling Ground, The Deep Realm

Annwn

I was the first to arrive at the dueling ground. I watched as the Fomorian dignitaries and Mná na Mara filed in around the top of the circle. A few approached and tried to make small talk, but most gave me a wide birth. I was tense, and I knew I wore that tension on my face plainly for all to see.

I felt like a shell of myself. For hours I had been running possible outcomes through my mind. Even now that I was here, perched on the rim of the dueling pit, I felt outside of myself, more focused on my inner thoughts where I was.

Shrill pipes sounded as Corb made his way through the scores of people who had arrived to witness the historic battle. Looking around, I saw that behind the Fomorian nobles, it appeared that the entire city had come to watch. The tension in the air was thick, but not as thick as the haze surrounding my body from my Divination of Balance boon.

Corb sported the Evil Eyes helmet, surprising me. The rules clearly stated he would not be able to use the ranged magical fire in the duel itself. The Fomorian warrior was massive, with rippling muscles, dark skin, and glowing red eyes. His long, dark dreadlocks hung across his broad chest and back. Around his thick neck hung dozens of necklaces containing bones and decorative metal leftovers from past battles. As he passed me, he met my eyes. His mocking gaze held mine so long that I thought he might miss a step and fall into the pit.

Upon reaching the dueling pit, Corb paused. He slowly turned in a circle, casting his red gaze at the crowd. They quieted, watching.

He thrust his fist in the air. A cheer went up among some of the onlookers. He raised both hands, and the cheers began to spread. They were cut off by the sound of a second set of pipes. Tethra had come.

She stalked toward the dueling pit. Her lack of fanfare or playing to the crowd was a sharp contrast to Corb’s entrance. She wore her usual set of leather armor, which was nicked and scratched from past battles. Her hair had been freshly braided, likely by her mother, and around her shoulders, she wore her father’s green cloak with his broach that she had rescued from the funeral pyre.

My eyes locked on hers. I gave her a nod of encouragement. She took a deep breath and turned her focus back to the path in front of her. The Fomorians parted, clearing a path to the dueling ground.

Dubhlinn and Morvra stood just outside the dueling pit, their hands joined. The mothers of the two combatants would act as co-adjudicators of the duel. Their faces were impassive. Tension gripped the crowd.

The combatants faced each other, the Abyss between them. Tethra shifted her weight from foot to foot, readying herself for what I knew would be explosive movement. Corb appeared to be breathing deeply, each exhale erupting in a cloud of vapor from his nose and mouth.

Both combatants would have the opportunity to address the crowd. As the challenger, Corb would go first. I tensed, knowing he would play to the crowd. As predicted, I saw Corb’s hand thrust into the air and the crowd fell silent.

“Comhthíreach,” he began, his voice carrying. “Today I bring you good news from our battles in Emain Ablach. In the siege of Gorias, we took many casualties.” He paused, letting the crowd soak in his words. “But that effort has afforded us a great treasure.”

He pointed to a man who stood near Corb’s mother, who I had not spent time with but knew to be called Indech. He was one of Corb’s underlings. Indech pulled a golden object from the folds of his cloak and held it up at Corb’s words. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

Sunlight caught the edges of the pyramid-shaped object, which was roughly the size of a Fomorian skull. Though I’d never seen it up close, I immediately recognized it. On Earth, it would have been called a pyramidion or capstone. Here in Annwn, the Tuatha referred to it simply as a beacon.

Each of the four major cities had only a single beacon, a magical means of communication between the great empire of the Overking. They were the magical equivalent of the ancient act of lighting bonfires in hills and mountains to rally large groups of people living in the far reaches of a country. These beacons provided a means for Nuada to communicate with his vassal relations. I immediately understood the significance. The beacon would enable Corb, or Tethra, to spy on Overking Nuada’s plans to rally troops to their war effort. It could turn the tide in our favor.

“We have taken the Gorias beacon!” Corb bellowed. The crowd roared.

Corb turned to stare across the pit at his half-sister as the crowd cheered.

Tethra stood tall, seeming unfazed, though I knew better. I had seen the slight widening of her eyes when Indech had presented the beacon.

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She drew Orna and the crowd hushed.

I saw Tethra’s mouth begin to move before I heard her words. As I had expected, she had chosen not to address the crowd. She let her actions speak for her. Her voice rang as she spoke the words of the honor invocation that would kick off the duel. The crowd was silent.

"With honor, I stand, by the shore and sea. If the abyss takes me, let it remember my deeds." Corb’s voice joined Tethra’s after the first few words. When they finished, another cheer went up.

Corb drew the double-bladed Fuilgeir. Both combatants turned to the rim where their mothers were standing.

Dubhlinn moved to the very edge of the pit to address the warriors. “You know the Fomorian way. You have trained in the house of your father for time untold. To be disarmed or to submit means defeat.” She paused and her face grew stern. “To fall into the Abyss means certain death. Death means defeat.”

My eyes instinctively moved to Corb. I could see the beginning of a smile at the corners of his lips. My heart sank.

Before his mother had even stepped back from the edge of the pit, Corb leaped at Tethra. She parried, and Orna and Fuilgeir clashed in a shower of sparks. The crowd cheered as the swords met again and again in a flurry of blows.

The movements and swordplay displayed below me were unlike anything I had ever seen. Fuilgeir’s Blood Tide ability and Orna’s Battle Herald ability seem to have remembered past sparring matches between the two. Corb moved with preternatural speed and strength, but Tethra moved to parry even before I could see the attack coming. It was like watching heat lighting flit in the night sky.

The clash of swords rang out and echoed through the training grounds. The very ground shook when the blades collided.

Corb’s blows were strong, and punishing, but Tethra moved like a cat, graceful and faster than her brother. Orna slid Corb’s blows away over and over, leaving Tethra with only superficial cuts. Her attacks on Corb were similar. Despite her speed, he managed to parry each of her slashes and avoid anything more serious than minor wounds.

The swords continued to flash as both combatants moved across the dueling pit in a seemingly unrelenting choreographed dance.

I could see the beginnings of fatigue from both warriors. Sweat tinted pink with blood dripped and splashed on the walls and ground.

If they continued much longer, Tethra would have the upper hand. While Corb’s blows exerted more force, they also burned more energy. Tethra was simply turning away his blunt-force attacks, favoring defensive positioning. She was wearing him down while conserving her own energy.

The battle continued to rage, the minutes ticking by. I felt myself moving subtly with each of Corb’s attacks as if my own movements would somehow aid Tethra. But Tethra didn’t need my help. Corb was visibly slowing, and it was now obvious the tide of the battle had shifted in Tethra’s favor. The Fomorians gathered could see it, and I saw the moment Corb realized it as well.

Enraged, he sent a brutal swing at Tethra, his muscles bunching with the power he packed behind it. Tethra danced into it, smoothly deflecting Fuilgeir in a seemingly impossible move. The massive blade slid from Corb’s grasp, flying nearly ten feet away and lodging in the ground.

Corb pushed away from his sister and ran to his sword. She pursued him more slowly, allowing him time to get to his blade. I clenched my fists, feeling a blast of panic. All Tethra had to do was reach Fuilgeir before her brother and the duel would be over.

Corb reached for his sword, and Tethra pounced, shifting from defense to offense. She chopped with a downward strike just as he yanked his double-bladed sword from the stone of the pit. He threw Fuilgeir up to parry in the nick of time, but the force of Tethra’s blow dropped him to a knee. Tethra drew her blade back, preparing another crippling blow.

As she moved to attack that would seal her victory, Corb’s eyes suddenly flared with a hot red light. I leaped to my feet. The red flare had been the only visible warning before Balor had released the full power of the Evil Eyes in battle. The use of the magical flames was strictly against the rules of the duel.

Tethra faltered, instinctively shrinking back to protect herself from the expected torrent of magical flames. But no flames came.

Tethra’s slight retreat gave Corb the breathing room he needed to recover. He rose to his full, massive height, dropped his blade, and surged the arm’s distance toward Tethra. She lifted Orna so that the tip of her sword was in line with Corb’s heart. Just before impact, Tethra imperceptibly shifted her blade. Orna thrust through Corb’s side, the tip of the blade emerging from his back.

Gasps rang out from around me. The Fomorian crowd thought that Corb, impaled by Orna, was finished. I knew better. Even from here, I could see the angle of the thrust had missed any major organs. I knew it couldn’t be accidental. Tethra knew exactly where to set her blade for a killing blow. She had chosen to spare her brother’s life.

The half-siblings stood face-to-face. Corb grinned maniacally, despite the sword impaling him. His giant hand rose, locking Tethra’s arms in place.

He reared back then delivered a brutal head butt to her face. I watched in horror as her eyes rolled back slightly from the force of the blow. Blood gushed from her fractured nose.

He released one of his hands to grip her throat, the other remained locked on her sword. She punched at him with her freed arm, the blows growing weaker and weaker as she ran out of air. Her legs failed her and she fell to her back.

Orna had still been lodged in Corb’s body when she hit the ground, but he pulled it out with a grunt.

“Do you yield?” he demanded, standing over her with her own bloody sword. Tethra’s head turned on the ground, her eyes finding me. I nodded, silently pleading with her to submit.

Instead, she tried to stagger to her feet. Corb delivered a brutal kick to her face, sending her sprawling back. He repeated his question. “Do you yield?”

Again, Tethra tried to stand, and again, he kicked her. Tethra’s body fell completely prone. I heard myself scream her name in the sudden silence that had fallen on the dueling grounds. Without meaning to, I found myself at the edge of the pit, my hand on my sword.

Before I could jump in, I saw Tethra hold her bloody hand up, silently begging me to stop. Reason found me. If I intervened, it would not only mean defeat but also disgrace for the proud Tethra. I paused for a single heartbeat.

In that brief moment, Corb delivered a final, brutal kick to Tethra. This one was powered by all the strength of his massive frame.

My breath caught and time seemed to slow as I saw Tethra’s battered body sail through the air and fall into the Abyss.