Day 16 of Midwinter, Sunset

Dueling Ground, The Deep Realm

Annwn

Time seemed to stop after Tethra’s body disappeared into the Abyss. A heavy silence had settled on the assembled Fomorian crowd, and not even Dubhlinn or Morvra, nor any of the other Mná na Mara, spoke. My own focus was locked on the smirking, bloody face of Corb.

Without having realized I was moving, I felt myself landing in the pit in front of the monster of a man. Though he was badly injured, Corb stood facing me, awaiting my approach. In his right hand, he held Tethra’s blade, Orna. His own blade lay only an arm’s distance away.

“Corb!” I snarled his name as I surged toward him, unable to find any other words. All I knew was that Tethra was gone. Forever.

The space between us narrowed, and the world around me seemed to go in slow motion. I caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye just before I was slammed from the side.

Indech! Of course. I should have assumed that one of Corb’s underlings would come to his rescue.

I crashed to the bottom of the dueling pit and managed to turn my fall into a roll that took me a few feet away from Indech’s follow-up attack. I sprang from my roll into a ready position, Fragarach in my hand and ready to draw blood from the man if he remained between me and my target.

“Stop!” Morvra commanded from atop the pit. The crowd remained silent. Indech paused where he stood. I too remained still, feeling like a coiled spring ready to shoot forth with compounded force.

Dubhlinn’s voice came next. “The duel is over.” I understood her statement for what it really was, a command to stay my hand. But this was Corb’s mother. Of course, she would want me to withdraw.

I glanced at Corb, seeing the weakness and fatigue behind his sneering expression. He had lowered Orna to the pit floor and was subtly using the blade as a crutch to remain upright. Tethra’s strike had left him badly injured. Though he’d been able to shrug off the initial pain and damage, he had been completely run through, and the deep wound was taking its toll.

I activated the Perfect Aim boon that I had acquired through the death of Lugh, seeing Corb’s body light up with possible strike points. He was injured and had lowered his sword. On top of that, Corb wore minimal torso armor, as was the custom with the highest-ranking Fomorian warriors.

Indech, who was in his own right a well-respected warrior, could tell that I was studying Corb. Without moving from his position, he caught my eye, growling, “I will strike you down before you ever get close to him.” Content originally comes from NoveIＦire.net

I shifted the boon to Indech, seeing similar weak points in his torso light up…but it was his long, braided hair that truly caught my attention. I lowered my blade, feigning resignation. When I did, the boon highlighted the weakest areas of Indech’s body. As I predicted, his hair remained his greatest liability in hand-to-hand combat.

“I challenge you,” I proclaimed, lifting my sword to point at Corb. An audible clamor went through the crowd. Dubhlinn attempted, without much success, to bring the assembly back to order. I shouted to be heard over the growing noise. “As a son of our former king, I have earned this right!”

“You have no right, Maccán,” Corb responded, his tone mocking. I knew he had highlighted my epithet to remind all present of my status as an adopted son.

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I looked to the rim of the pit and studied the faces of Dubhlinn and Morvra. Ultimately, they would decide whether my challenge was legitimate. At first glance, Morvra appeared as stoic as ever, but I knew her well enough to see the grief that lay heavy upon her. Tears threatened to betray her facade of strength.

Dubhlinn’s voice echoed off the walls of the dueling grounds. “There will be no further challenge. We have lost enough today.”

My heart sank. If there was to be no approved duel, and in my heart, I knew there wouldn't be, I knew what I must do.

First, I would need to remove Indech from the equation before any more of Corb’s supporters could enter the pit. Second, I would need to gain an advantage against Corb by seeking out Fuilgeir, which lay between us. Third, I needed to eliminate Corb.

My plan was not particularly well thought out, and I knew it was likely to end with my death. Given my domain, I couldn’t truly die, but that wasn’t common knowledge, and it didn’t make a deadly injury any less dangerous for me or my people.

If I were injured to the point of death, my body would disappear from here and emerge in the Heart-shaped Pool back on the mainland…without my gear or my most valuable possessions, which would be here, with Corb and whatever army he intended to raise.

Each of these thoughts had come in only a fraction of a second. At that same time, Corb appeared to have realized many of the same things that I had.

“Yes,” he said, his voice thick with mock sadness. “There has been enough loss today.” Though he faced me, his voice rang through the pit, clearly pitched to carry to the gathered crowd. “If you cannot accept my rule, leave your spoils of war behind and go your own way.”

I sucked in a breath. He was talking about the Spear of Victory. I hadn’t brought it with me to the dueling grounds, but it seemed Corb now sought to claim the relic as his own.

“Why did you do it?” I asked him. I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it…wanted our people to hear him say it. I activated a lesser-used ability of Fragarach, Trust Tongue, and continued. “Why did you kill our sister?”

I knew Corb, and I knew he would want to make a spectacle of this moment. He would try to spin Tethra’s death as a necessary, selfless task he had taken on and a boon for his people. But I couldn’t allow that. The magic of the sword surged forth, and where Corb would have otherwise spoken a sweet lie, Fragarach compelled him to speak only the truth.

“You and she were the only things standing between me and the throne.” His eyes widened as he heard himself. I had not used Truth Tongue in any battle or sparring match since I had taken it from Lugh. “I simply had to eliminate her first, knowing you would do something foolish to avenge her.”

He was right. I lunged forward, sidestepping Indech. He immediately swung his sword at me, but I slowed it enough to evade what would have been a devastating blow. I stepped under the swing, moving closer to his side…where I could reach his massive braid.

I knew that I was stronger than anyone currently watching the battle, even Corb, and I used that strength to my advantage as I wrapped my hand around the thick rope of hair. I yanked Indech off his feet and threw him in the direction of his new lord. He screamed as he dropped his sword and plummeted toward Corb.

I continued moving forward with part two of my plan. I rolled immediately after the throw and reached for Fuilgeir. As my hand reached for the blade, I felt stars explode in the side of my head before everything around me went fuzzy. I lay panting on the floor of the pit, realizing I had failed. Fuilgeir lay within arm’s distance, as did Fragarach. I had dropped it in my pursuit of Corb.

I could see only a partial view of the dueling pit, as my head lay on the stone, swimming in disorientation. Indech was picking himself up somewhere beyond the boots of Corb, and Corb was being escorted away by several Fomorians I couldn’t identify.

My head pounded as I felt rough hands lifting me and carrying me past the faces of Morvra and Dubhlinn. There was a coldness to their glares that I couldn’t place in my current condition, but found disturbing all the same.

I knew then the fate I would be forced to endure. I would be taken back to Túr Crochta. Corb would either quietly murder me in the coming weeks or, worse, lock me away in an inescapable cell where I would spend the rest of my days remembering my failure. Who knew how long I might suffer alone within those solitary walls?

Rolling my head to the side, I saw that it was the strong arms of Ethlinn that held me tight. She was flanked by a score of other Fomorians, most, I assumed, who were loyal to Corb. I wondered if the blow that had struck me had come from her. Likely yes.

The world was still blurry, but I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to black out…that is, until Indech surprised the group and hilt-punched me in the temple with his sword. The rest of the march to Hanging Tower was done in the darkness of unconsciousness.