Chapter 21 | Ravinica

Chapter 21

Ravinica

TURNED OUT A BUNCH of people were champing at the bit to have the honor of fucking me up and putting me in my place. Big surprise there.

My body filled with fire when Astrid Dahlmyrr challenged me. It was her snooty, knowing smirk that set me off.

I had always been quick to anger. It came with the territory of growing up with brothers—especially annoying ones like my younger sibling, Damon. In the past, Swordbaron Korvan taught me to suppress the violent urges.

Much like how Randi told me to pick my battles wisely here, Korvan showed me how stubbornness and a quick temper could easily become my downfall.

It was hard to focus when you were angry. Tactical maneuvers became sloppy. Footwork became sluggish, broadcasting my intentions to whomever I was fighting. Korvan taught me the best approach was a silent one. Watch, listen, and respond, rather than react.

Yet I was a woman in a male-dominated society. I only had my wits and nerves to serve me, with a smaller frame than most men I faced in combat. I didn't like being told to "hide" my anger, my ferocity, because I always wondered if Korvan told his male students the same thing, or if it was a double standard.

There was no Korvan here now. No matter how much I tried to suppress my rage, seeing Astrid Dahlmyrr look at me like that, with such pitying disdain, made bloodlust claw up my spine.

Once the initiates were ready to square off, Hersir Axel had us choose a weapon from a bundle spilled out on a table. They were wooden—spears, swords, axes—so they wouldn't kill.

A wooden spear haft across the face can do plenty of damage. I envisioned dislocating Astrid's jaw while I picked up a tipless spear and swung it in slow arcs across my body to gauge its weight and heft.

I could wield an axe and sword just fine. Korvan had taught me to use any weapon at my disposal, and know how to use it. Didn't matter if I was using a dinner plate for a shield and a grass-cutting hoe for a sword. I needed to be prepared.

Out the corner of my eye, I watched Astrid choose her weapon. She first went for a wooden sword, but then saw me pick up the spear and moved toward one of her own.

Smart, making sure she has similar length to me.

Finally, she decided on an axe. The curved edge of the weapon was made of wood instead of iron. She slapped the haft against her palm, holding the weapon with her free hand at the base.

"I'm ready," she told Axel.

The Hersir motioned us forward onto Tyr Meadow. The grass squelched underfoot, flattening. I never moved my eyes from Astrid's wicked face.

"Judging by your focused expressions, I sense you two have some history," Hersir Axel said.

"Recent history," Astrid answered.

"Good. This is a fine time to get it out. I only have one rule."

Astrid and I looked to the battlemaster.

"Don't kill each other."

With that, he stepped off the edge of the meadow.

I swallowed hard, finding a measure of calm in the storm that raged in my head. Enough of these assholes treating me like a peon for them to trample over. I earned my way here just like they did. It's time I remind them of that.

A few students came to watch, including Astrid's goons, and also Randi, Sven, Ulf, and Grim. Arne moved away from his conversation with Rolf to watch. Behind him, arms crossed, stood Magnus Feldraug—alone, staring with an unreadable expression on his face.

Jitters ran through me. I pushed them down as I'd been trained to do. "Turn those nerves into fruitful energy," Korvan had always said.

"You should have never come here, bog-blood," Astrid warned me. She stood ten paces back. "It was your first mistake."

I scoffed, reveling in her disdain. "You should have never tried taking my seat, Astrid. It was your first mistake."

She scowled. I returned it twofold.

"Begin," Axel grunted.

Astrid charged at me before Axel's word had even finished.

My eyes flashed wide as she bore down on me in a few quick steps, taking an offensive approach. She arced her axe high, diagonally across her body.

I noticed a few things right off the bat: Astrid wielded her axe short, gripping the haft up near the blade and in the middle. The backend handle hung down, and it could become an efficient weapon itself if I wasn't careful. Her footwork was swift, short, choppy. Her charge was a straight line, opting for no subterfuge.

I swung my legs to the side in a large step to counter her smaller movements, just as her axe came down.

Her short pace allowed her to stop on a dime, pivoting to follow my body as I sidestepped.

The axe crunched over the middle of my spear as I raised it two-handed. The curved "blade" slid over the top, peeling woodchips before falling in front of me and hooking over the haft of my spear.

I knew what she was doing, so when she yanked back to try and disarm me with the curve of her axe, I lunged forward with her—

Only for Astrid to punch the blade out at the last second and smash the dull end into my chin.

My head snapped back, blinding white pain shooting behind my eyes. I staggered and she charged again, swinging her axe this time—trying to end it quickly.

I ducked, narrowly escaping a nasty hit across my shoulder. I bobbed left when she struck right in swift, short swings. She didn't use her large axe as I'd expected her to, opting for precise attacks instead.

Skilled! My brain harried me. Different than Selby fighters. Better trained.

As she used her axe in different styles and motions, I was stuck in a defensive position, backpedaling, dodging her blows. I searched for an opening, listening to her grunt and growl with her teeth bared and her lip peeled back.

The entire time, my head throbbed from the first hit. Dazed, I stuttered left and right to avoid another overhand swing. I staggered back to get my bearings.

Up to this point—the first engagement of the bout—I'd been using my spear like a staff, close to my body rather than pointed at her lengthwise.

Time to put some distance between us.

Astrid breathed heavily once I backpedaled out of her range. "You're nothing. Scared little swamp rat."

I smiled at her.

With a roar, she charged again—

Just as I thrust the spear forward in a quick whip-snap of my wrist.

The head punched into her stomach and she grunted, doubling over for a split second—

Before spinning down the length of my spear, sliding her back along it, and coming at my head sideways.

I saw the curved blade out the corner of my eye and pivoted, spinning with her, keeping my spear between us.

She had closed the gap with one quick maneuver. In a real fight, my spearhead would have plunged into her belly and ended it. She was taking advantage of the fact these weapons weren't real.

Astrid hacked at me. We spun in a circle, and I could hear the flow of chatter from the students watching.

A few of them groaned, and I wondered what—

Astrid's foot landed behind my ankle, and when I backpedaled again, I tripped and tumbled. The sky grew small as I went down on my ass from her cunning maneuver. Air punched from my lungs.

She stomped down, trying to crack my neck, and I rolled out of the way.

Her axe came down next, trying to catch me where I was rolling—leading the mark—and I just kept rolling on the grass.

Next downward arc, I was ready. My spear popped up and caught her in the kneecap, throwing her aim off.

As she buckled and stumbled toward me, I rolled one last time, slapping the spear against the side of her leg while I hopped up to my feet.

Astrid went down to one knee. She hacked at a side angle, trying to get my ribs. I put an arm out to block her, knowing the "blade" wouldn't actually hurt me much.

Jarring pain launched up my forearm, down to the bone. I ignored it, bringing my spear to the side to smack into her arm.

She ignored that, and growled, trying to wrestle with me and use the leverage of my body to get to her feet. With the hafts of our weapons locked in an X, she whipped the backend of her axe at me suddenly, like a backhanded slap toward the side of my head.

Though I'd known it was a possibility given her handle positions, I wasn't prepared for it. I was forced back, hopping out of the way while her hands groped and pushed off me.

Astrid got her feet under her and yelled, hacking in a lunge while I dug my heels into the grass.

I watched her feet and bobbed and weaved. She was getting slower, with wider arcs and more time between her strikes. Her chest rose faster, pulse biting quicker.

My own heartbeat was slow, measured, despite the hits I'd taken.

Astrid wasn't going to let me get to an advantageous distance with my spear—she was doing everything in her power to keep us close where she'd have the upper hand.

Including tiring herself out.

I timed her strikes, because she wasn't as finely tuned now. She was unraveling. It only made me smile and draw her into my web, enraging her at the sight of my smirking face. She yelled to the gods, sweat pouring down her forehead, mottling her streaky green hair.

Left, right, duck, sidestep.

I did the motions twice in a row, realizing her pattern. The whoosh of air sizzled a few inches from my face with every strike, making her louder and more frustrated to be missing me by a hair's breadth.

Left, right, duck, sidestep.

Four more strikes, same outcome, and I hadn't used my spear in a while. It danced with me. My muscles ached, my body burned.

Left, right—now—

The head of my spear spit out like a viper, snapping into the hollow of her throat. Not enough to terribly wound her, but enough to stand her up straight with a quick stop-start, and make her gurgle in surprise.

Her attack faltered, eyes blowing wide. One hand came up from her axe to instinctively grab at her neck, the other moving her axe to keep my spear away.

So I swung with my right fist as hard as I could, seeing my opening as her gaze fluttered to my spear.

My knuckles slammed against her nose, hard as fuck , sinking into soft flesh and crunching cartilage. Blood sprayed when her head whipped back.

She stumbled and collapsed onto her ass, axe flying from her grip, both hands rising to cup her bleeding nose.

Astrid let out a muffled cry, a shocked grunt of pain as she writhed on the ground, blood seeping between her fingers. "You fucking bitch!" she gurgled. "You b-broke my nose!"

"Bout, Ravinica," Hersir Axel announced.

I eyed him and he gave me a simple nod. Then he walked away.

Astrid's friends were at her side in an instant, kneeling to coddle her and help lift her.

I started to turn, to see the smiling face of Arne staring back at me, eyes twinkling mischievously. Beside him, Grim crossed his arms over his muscled chest and let out a grunt and a tiny nod. Even Sven Torfen couldn't hide the smirk from curling his lips, despite his "champion" losing the match.

"This isn't over!" Astrid wailed from behind me.

I froze. Slowly turned. It was hard to take her serious when her voice sounded like a nasally chipmunk.

She looked pitiful now, scowling at me with red-rimmed eyes inadvertently dripping tears due to her broken nose. Blood matted her upper lip and chin.

I pointed my spear-staff at her, bringing the dulled point a few inches from her face.

She flinched, and the satisfaction I got at seeing her recoil was even greater than bringing the bully down in the first place.

"You'd better hope it is over, Astrid." I smiled, pointing the spear at her face. "And you might want to go to Eir Wing to get that checked out. I hear they have doctors there."