Chapter 6:
Duel for Pride
My back hurts, my stomach aches, my shoulders are stiff, and my mouth is dry. The hours I’ve spent hung over the saddle have not been kind to my body. My chestnut hair obscures my vision, but I can tell that the sun has gone down, and I’m praying that they’ll stop.
There’s a spark of hope when I overhear them mention ‘taking base’. The ground beneath me stops moving, and the horses’ footsteps are replaced by men’s boots. They’re off their mounts. It must be time to rest.
Straining against the pain in my back, I lift up my head and shake the hair out of my eyes. The forest from before has disappeared, replaced by dark grassy plains. Trevus is unpacking supplies and Giddius is building a fire pit.
I lie limp against Becky again. “Let me down,” I call. They must know that no person can stay like this forever. I need to stretch and sleep like the rest of them.
“Shall this be enough?” Marcellus asks.
“About right. Over here,” Giddius says. My back can’t bear the stress of twisting up again for another glance.
“Where is Cidon?” Trevus asks.
Orange firelight reflects off the dew on the grass below. They have settled in for camp.
“Here,” Giddius says.
“Let me down, please,” I say. That’s as polite as I will be.
“I estimate that we rode eight hours,” Trevus says.
“Minus an hour from the girly’s chase,” Marcellus says. They’re ignoring me.
“Let me down,” I call louder.
“So seven hours at five miles an hour,” Giddius says.
“Three. The forest was thick,” Trevus says. I know that they can hear me.
“Let. Me. Down.” I pause between each word so that their simple minds can keep up. “Let. Me. Down. Let. Me. Down. Let. Me. Down.” They will not have another moment of peace while I’m tied to this horse.
“Let. Me-” A hand grips the back of my shirt. The bindings around my middle are loosened, and I’m pulled forward.
My body flies face-first towards the grass. I scream and shut my eyes. A hand grabs me midair and spins my frame upright. My backside lands on the dirt with a sore thump.
Trevus was the one who took me down. With my ankles tied together and my arms secured behind me, I still can’t move, but I’m relieved to sit upright with my back straight again.
He grabs the back of my collar and drags me over the grass. My shirt tightens around my diaphragm. I can still breathe, but it takes effort.
He releases his grip. I fall flat on my back beside the fireplace, the long grass cushioning my landing.
Trevus returns to the others, leaving me here. “Granted no further delay, we shall reach Cidon next evening,” he says.
I stretch as much as the bindings allow. After so many hours in such an uncomfortable position, it feels like heaven to lie flat again. I could stay here for some time, just watching the thousands of white stars in the night sky.
“We cannot be so certain. The Mephian girl may startle Marcellus into dropping the rope again,” Giddius says.
Trevus chuckles, and there’s a thump and an “Ouch” from Giddius.
I focus on the stars, tuning out the men’s conversation. My eyes find the pony constellation, then the teapot and the rose to its left. The rose is only just over the horizon, meaning that it’s still early evening. I spent years naming the stars from my tower, but there’s so much more sky to see out here, so many shapes and patterns I’ve never laid eyes on before. It doesn’t take long to determine which way my window was facing. What’s most striking is that much of the sky has the constellations I’m familiar with, but they’re all twisted around. The sword is flipped upside down, and the lion is turned on its side.
Smoke creeps to my nose. With some difficulty, I manage to maneuver myself to sit upright. Trevus is trying to balance a black cooking pot between two stones over the smoldering fire. Giddius returns with a stack of branches, and he drops them at Marcellus’s feet. Marcellus chops the branches into smaller pieces and packs them on the fire.
“Not that one.” Trevus blocks a branch with his hand.
Marcellus’s brow wrinkles. “’Tis damp but not drenched?”
“Perhaps not, but unless you wish to itch like a bear, we should steer clear from the smoke of ickther wood.”
Marcellus drops the branch and kicks it away. He wipes his fingers off on a stone, the revulsion on his face comparable to someone mistakenly touching animal droppings.
The flames grow taller, licking the edges of the black pot. Trevus chops pumpkin over the mix while Marcellus and Giddius perch on a nearby log.
“The fire may have grown if you did not hoard the only dry branch I retrieved.” Giddius gestures to the short piece of wood in Marcellus’s hand.
Marcellus works to strip bark off the branch with a short knife. “I am crafting.”
“And will your statuette keep us warm?” Giddius asks.
“You simply envy my artistic spirit,” Marcellus says.
Giddius grunts. Trevus’s brief smirk betrays his amusement, but I’m the only one at the right angle to notice it.
Trevus adds a pinch of spice from a small pouch and stirs the pot. The time and care he devotes is not what I expected from a brutish soldier cooking in the wilderness.
The sweet smell of the soup reaches my nose, and I’m drawn to it. They’re about to eat, and I don’t want to miss out. I nudge forward on my butt. Marcellus and Giddius glance down at me as I stop beside their log. There’s space on the log, but the thought of being any closer to them makes me uneasy.
Trevus picks up the hot pot using a folded piece of material as a makeshift glove. “Jade,” he says. I perk up. Is he going to ask me how much soup I want? The answer is as much as I’m allowed. “Your influence over that castle dog has a hold on my mind. How did you exert your will to such a degree?”
“She unleashed her sorcery on a dog?” Giddius asks. His eyes stick to me now. I shift in discomfort.
“I witnessed the animal lose conscious thought,” Trevus says. “It had not awoken when I left.”
“That is her sorcery? ‘Tis no mystery that she was captured,” Marcellus says.
“What is your answer?” Trevus asks me.
My mouth stays closed. I’d rather they talk about anything else – anything but me.
“Tight lipped,” Marcellus says. “I question whether this girly holds any use at all.”
Trevus shakes his head at my refusal to answer. He pours three bowls of steaming soup, handing one to Giddius and one to Marcellus. My spirits lift as he approaches me with the third.
Trevus kneels to be at my level. The soup in his hand has my full attention. It’s a thick orange paste of sweet pumpkin and green herbs. The food in the tower was always so bland and repetitive, and I’m eager to try this new taste.
Instead of releasing my arms from behind my back, Trevus raises a spoon of soup up to my lips. I don’t care if he feeds me like a child as long as I get the meal. I lean forward to take it, but he swipes the spoon out of reach.
“Salts,” I growl. “What was that for?”
“Tell me, Jade of Mephia, how did you bend the animal to your will?”
“I too am curious,” Giddius says. All three of them are watching me. I shift in place. I don’t want to talk about it in front of all of them. I don’t want them to think of me as different, as some sort of strange, inhuman creature.
Both Marcellus and Giddius are enjoying their soup, Marcellus seemingly amused with the situation. It’s just like when I was forced to perform for guests at castle dinners.
My shoulders sink. “You’re making a game of feeding me.” I’d rather not play.
“’Tis not a game,” Trevus says. “’Tis a negotiation of trade. You wish to share little, but I wish to learn much. I offer you an exchange – a spoonful of information for a spoonful of this dish.”
Framing it like that doesn’t feel so bad. Free people trade with each other daily, and my knowledge has value.
“I touched Bosko with my hands,” I say.
Trevus brings the spoon to my lips. I savor the sweet pumpkin on my tongue.
He fills the spoon again. “What occurs upon your touch?”
“I form a connection to him.”
He gives me another spoon. “A
connection
?” he repeats back to me, seeming unsure of the word himself.
“Our bodies become one.”
“There is no sense in your speech,” Marcellus says. “Your words are worth no more than horse manure.”
“You speak like you have manure in your brain,” I snap at him.
Marcellus jumps up, but Trevus stops him with a raised hand. “I wish to hear her words,” Trevus says. I don’t appreciate him speaking like I’m not here, but I do enjoy hearing anyone tell Marcellus to shut up.
Trevus turns back to me. “’Tis difficult for us to comprehend your description.”
“Well it’s hard to explain,” I say. My lips make a thin line.
“Tell us, what does your
connection
feel like?”
He has another spoon ready, tempting me. I let my shoulders relax again. Trevus’s eyes never leave me. He truly wants to understand what it feels like. I think for a moment to explain it in a way that would make sense to him.
“What does your foot feel like?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow, not yet following.
“You can feel your foot?”
“Yes.” He looks back at his boots for a moment. “I supposed that they are mildly cold.”
“Now think of your heart,” I continue. “If you concentrate, you can sense its warmth and feel each beat.”
He raises a hand up to his chest.
“No, not like that. Just feel it within your chest, inside you.”
He lets out a long breath. “I feel it.”
“If I connected with you, I would feel it too.”
Trevus nods, accepting my explanation. He feeds me five more spoons, and I take them gladly, leaving the bowl near empty.
Marcellus stands. “Surely you do not believe the girly’s hogwash. It appears as if you are lapping it up like a baby on a mother’s tit.”
I glare at Marcellus. “Perhaps you should let me connect to you, then I could find out if your brain really is made of manure.”
He storms forward and grabs my shirt. The garment tightens around my chest as I’m lifted up into the air. My feet swing freely below, and my breathing is strained under the pressure. I can’t relieve the tension with my arms bound behind my back. “How can one fathom basing our operation on this frightened, cowardly
mit
,” Marcellus says.
I twist my head down to meet his gaze, and I take in a labored breath before speaking. “Why don’t you fight me like a man? Stop whining like a little boy. Untie me and fight as if you have honor, just us two.”
Marcellus lowers my feet to the ground. I hold his gaze, looking up at him. Like Trevus, the top of my head only reaches his shoulders. He stands still, analyzing me. My challenge came as a surprise to him. He’s aware of our difference in size. “You have sorcery tricks?” he asks.
“My hands are wrapped.” I’d show him my sleeves if I could. “You go without your weapons, and I go without mine.” I don’t fancy being impaled with an axe over this.
Marcellus releases his grip on my shirt.
“I’ll make the square,” Trevus says.
Marcellus twists me around, almost causing me to topple over. His scratchy fingers yank the bindings off of my wrists and ankles, taking little care to be gentle.
The rope falls in a pile at my feet. I rub my sore wrists through the linen sleeves.
Trevus draws a line in the muddy grass with his boot. I flinch as Marcellus’s axe strikes a log. The steel weapon is left embedded in the wood for safekeeping.
He cracks his knuckles. Facing a man as large as Marcellus is a frightening thought, but I’ve endured the worst side of soldiers for years. A fair fight is more than I’ve ever been granted before.
Trevus has drawn a large square in the mud. Both Marcellus and I step inside it, but Giddius stays outside the perimeter. “She truly wishes to duel you?” Giddius asks. He can’t believe the situation.
“Jade,” Trevus begins, “have you participated in a freehand duel? Or any duel?”
“It’s just a fight?” I ask.
“You are foolish,” Giddius says. “This is not your place, Mephian girl.”
“Stay inside the square,” Trevus says. “Knock your opponent off their feet, and you take the round. The first one to take three rounds is the victor. If your opponent fails to stand after any round, ‘tis a premature end, and you are awarded victory.” His gaze moves between us. “This is a freehand duel. No weapons, no rocks, and no dirt in the eyes.”
I nod. Marcellus is more interested in staring at me than what Trevus is saying. He’s probably engaged in countless duels with other soldiers.
I take a few steps away from Marcellus, my opponent. He’s nearly a head taller than me, and he looks like he carries two or three times my weight. He had me dangling in the air just a few minutes ago. If he lands a punch, it’ll
hurt
. But I’ve endured that before, and I’ve long since lost my fear of men’s fists.
“There is no need to be concerned with dueling for three rounds,” Giddius says to me. “You shall be out after one.”
It’s not surprising to receive discouraging remarks from a soldier. I ignore him.
Trevus whispers something to Marcellus, and Marcellus nods in response. I thought that this was supposed to be a fair fight, and now there’s information that I don’t know. It must be the nature of soldiers to gang up against me. Having someone to exclude gives them something to bond over.
Trevus leaves the square. “Begin.”
Marcellus stalks towards me. I don’t know how to fight. There has never been the opportunity to learn. When the guards attacked me, it was a one-sided affair. I curl my hands into fists, thumbs on the outside – that’s the extent of my knowledge.
“Retreat from the square, Mephian girl. Forfeit and spare yourself,” Giddius says.
Forget it.
Marcellus raises his fist up into the air. His hand is huge. My eyes are glued to it. He swings for me. I jump back. His fist misses, but a sharp pain erupts in my chest. The air is knocked out of my lungs, and my legs lose their balance. I hit the dirt, coughing and gasping for air. The pain in my chest grows and shifts through my diaphragm, and I grit my teeth to suppress a groan. My body curls in on itself without my permission. I’m on the ground, and I’ve completely lost track of Marcellus.
It takes me a moment to stop gasping. He must have hit me with his other fist. I push myself to sit up, and I strain to stand again. Marcellus is on the other side of the square with his arms crossed.
“One round to Marcellus,” Trevus says.
“Give in, mit.” Marcellus says.
“We’re not done.” My hands are on my knees to support myself. “You have to win three, remember.”
“You are delusional,” Giddius says.
Marcellus approaches again. I suck in a breath and force myself to stand up straight. He’s getting closer. I’m not fast enough to dodge. I have to hit first.
I lunge at him, aiming my fist right at his big head. His arm blocks my punch, sending my fist up into the air. He knees me in the chest. I stumble backwards from the pain, barely keeping my balance. He pounces while I’m still disoriented, striking my side with his fist and sending me crashing into the grass.
A new wave of pain rips through my body, and another groan escapes me. Every breath I take hurts.
“Two to Marcellus,” Trevus says.
I try press myself up, but my body protests with pain. My burning chest won’t allow my limbs to move.
“The duel is his,” Trevus says.
I wait a moment, then hold my breath and try push myself up a second time. Minutes pass before I’m back on my feet. My chest is sore, but running my fingers over my torso reveals no broken ribs.
Marcellus has returned to the fireplace.
“Hey!” I shout. “We’re not done!”
He turns back to me. “You cannot mean that.”
“You can’t call me a coward and then refuse to finish the fight. There are
three
rounds. Get back in the square.”
Marcellus’s eyes narrow. He returns to the square, approaching with an annoyed look. I can’t afford to get hit on the chest again, so I come up with a plan – I’ll throw one punch at his chest, then bring my arms down to protect my own.
Once he’s close enough to surprise, I leap for him with no regard to my own safety. He’s destined to strike me no matter what I do, but I yearn to at least get one hit on this rude man. My left arm swings for his chest, my body wailing in pain from the wild movement. He blocks it, but my right arm is already heading for his face. I make contact with his jaw, knocking his head to the side. I got him.
His whole frame swings back for a counterstrike. There’s no way to escape in time. I shield my chest. His leg sweeps under my feet. There’s so much force behind his kick that my legs slide out of the way as if they were made of straw. I tumble to the ground.
My hands and backside are planted in the grass, leaving me looking up at him. I’ve lost again.
“That is the end of it,” Trevus says. “Marcellus is the victor.”
My breathing is heavy. The pain from the first two knockdowns will be with me for a while. With the duel over, my arms give in and slide out from under me. I lie flat on the grass where I am. My body needs a chance to recuperate.
Marcellus leaves without a word. He collects his axe and takes a seat by the fire again, never looking back in my direction.
Giddius steps into my vision, his boots not far from my head. “You scored zero for three,” he says. “The rounds were so brisk that they barely began. I imagined that you had a plan upon challenging Marcellus, but in reality, you are as thoughtless as you appear.”
I ignore him. Reining in my breathing is my priority, not rising to his goads. This wasn’t about him anyway.
Trevus leans forward and offers me a hand. “Why you felt the need to engage in a duel is beyond my comprehension, but I shall not deny you your masochistic delights. I do hope that your urge has been satisfied.”
I take his hand, and he carefully lifts me to stand. To my appreciation, he supports my walk back to the warm campfire.
I still think it should have earned her some respect though… at least for the balls of it…
Yay!
I think it’s accumulated frustration and desperation for dignity and I hope it earns her some well deserved respect. Her come backs and her will to take charge alone should have earned her more respect…
Hope so… even as strong as she is, she’s been locked away for 10 years… Didn’t receive an adequate diet and the extensive training that Marcellus must have… it’s already an unfair fight…
😂
Incredible
😂
Me too
😂
Honestly, just fuck off Marcellus…
Honestly, just fuck off Marcellus…
I agree with the previous comment – don’t tell them, make something up…
😂
Good for her.
😂
I knew the jerk was going to do something like this…
Good! They must know the effect it’s had on her body…
did they respect her when they wanted to play equally by the rules they set.
atee quite literally
4+4=?
OHHH SHE STANDIN ON BUISNIZZZZZZ
Yes
Agreed
Let’s see who’s the real coward when she has her hand free! 🤬
X2
I want her to beat his ass
That’s the sane thing dude 😒
who else is trying to feel their heart right now?😅
🤣🤣
I’m excited for the next chapter
@iceheartgoldsmile It didn’t show the context of your comment.
@DefenderofHyrule oh, what came across that I found her being punched was funny?
I hope she feels better soon…
Getting her lights punched out is not funny.
@rileysing yeah we are looking at it from a different angle so it looks different
https://www.google.com/search?q=why+does+the+moon+look+different+in+different+parts+of+the+world&oq=why+does+the+moon+look+different+in+different+part&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUqBwgBEAAYgAQyBggAEEUYOTIHCAEQABiABDIKCAIQABiGAxiKBTIKCAMQABiGAxiKBdIBCTIwNTY5ajBqOagCALACAA&client=ms-android-samsung-ss&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8#imgrc=l0CbMhPfKRk3tM&imgdii=hWaX-qWI4PVW4M
I loved it
Really dude… she did get a hit in remember
That’s a big deal considering the circumstances, though I agree about the challenge not being a smart decision
The reason she knows if she has broken ribs is tragic, really…
I thought you were smart, but girl fighting a soldier when you don’t know how is asking for hurt.
My guess is Trevus is telling him not to go too far or cause injuries to her…
I love the continuity in these burn
Oh damn, nice burn
She’s smart… I’m guessing other have tried similar tactics
Really dude, you’re really playing games with her like that over food.
It’s sad she’s been deprived so much she doesn’t have any concern for dignity… it’s food, and she’s either gone without or had poor quality.
So, not earth constellations, or just northern hemisphere ones lol
Honeslty being in the southern hemisphere my whole life it would be so weird and even scary to look up and see the northern hemispheres stars
Oh, thats great
HAHAHAHA
OH HI
Just make something up. How would they know 💀