Chapter 11: The Wager

  Boom! A shockwave of compressed air blasted through the dirt, sending Aeron sprawling. He tumbled several times before slamming hard into a thick tree trunk. Stars danced before his eyes as the world spun in the early morning light.

  "Wasn't trying to escape five times in a single night enough for you?" Ivyl asked with mock surprise. She drifted down from above, looking as though she were lounging on an invisible cushion of air.

  "I told you, I have to save her!" Aeron snapped, rubbing his aching head. "How could someone like you, who doesn't even know the meaning of love, possibly understand?"

  "And I told you to explain it to me!" Ivyl retorted. "It's your own fault for refusing!"

  "You can't just explain it!" Aeron grimaced, brushing the forest grime from his clothes. "You have to experience it to feel it. It’s a sacred bond—something people would live or die for. And I’ll keep trying to escape as long as you keep me prisoner!"

  Ivyl shrugged dismissively. "You think you can actually hide from me?"

  "No," Aeron replied. "But I have a way to ensure you can't take me back. You'll have to answer to your Prophet then."

  Curious, Ivyl twirled a lock of her fiery red hair around a slender finger—a habit of hers. "And what way is that?"

  Aeron didn't answer. Instead, he unsheathed his sword. Ivyl’s eyes went wide with genuine curiosity.

  "You don't actually want to fight me again, do you?" she giggled. "You can't beat me."

  Aeron remained silent. With a swift motion, he turned the blade and pressed the cold edge against his own throat.

  "That... is called suicide, isn't it?" Ivyl asked, her voice tilting.

  "Exactly!" Aeron grinned with a flash of desperate triumph. "If you don't let me go, I’ll kill myself right here. Then your mission will be a failure!"

  Ivyl Wall Teh’Sneto stared at him without blinking. She rubbed her nose thoughtfully and gave a cool, detached reply. "Go ahead. Die if you must. My mission is to bring you back; no one said you had to be breathing."

  "You...!" Aeron’s blood boiled with frustration. He had no idea how to handle this girl—naive one moment, dangerously indifferent the next. "Why must you make this so difficult? I told you I would follow you after I save the one I love!"

  "But that will delay our return to the tribe!" Ivyl shrugged. "I hate being away from home. Out here, everything is crawling with those disgusting rats."

  Aeron froze. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face as the sorceress’s slip of the tongue registered. "So... you’re afraid of rats?"

  "Terrified!" Ivyl shuddered, grimacing as she imagined the small, furry creatures scurrying through the underbrush. "That’s why you should just come back with me now! Besides, even if you chase her, you’re not strong enough to save anyone. Your swordplay is pathetic."

  "Fine," Aeron said, his voice unnervingly calm.

  "Fine as in... what?" Ivyl asked, startled by his sudden shift.

  "As in, I will follow you to the Lion Tribe," Aeron explained. "But I want to eat first."

  "You ate last night," she pointed out.

  "A few roasted potatoes aren't enough to sustain a man," Aeron shrugged. "I want to hunt—wild rabbit or boar. A fresh meal will lift my spirits for the journey."

  Ivyl’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You’re not planning to run again, are you?"

  Aeron let his sword drop to the grass and scratched his neck, looking away innocently. "I can't even outrun you on a horse, and I no longer even have the horse. So, do we have a deal or not?"

  "On one condition: you promise to come with me the moment the meal is finished," Ivyl relented.

  Deep down, she worried that if Aeron remained this despondent, he might actually do something foolish. Lying to him about the "dead or alive" part of her mission weighed on her, and dragging him away from his quest felt increasingly cruel. Perhaps letting the terrible swordsman indulge in a decent meal would ease her conscience.

  Aeron nodded his agreement. He sheathed his sword and pulled some dried rations from his pack, crumbling them into his pocket.

  "What is that for?" Ivyl asked.

  "Bait," Aeron replied with a wink. "You can't catch forest game without something pungent. Wait here. I'll be back shortly."

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  "Enough!" Ivyl warned. "Don't try anything!"

  Aeron waved a hand over his shoulder as he disappeared into the trees. Ivyl smiled and sat down, crossing her legs to meditate. She felt a sense of relief; the gloomy swordsman finally seemed to be in better spirits.

  I told Master, she thought smugly. Humans are simple. Fulfill their whims, and they forget their sorrows.

  She closed her eyes, seeking the eternal energy flowing from the Immortal Constellation. A mage required such moments of meditation to replenish the mana drained by a long, sleepless journey.

  When her energy was restored, she stretched and opened her eyes, blinking at the sun which had already reached its zenith. He should be nearly finished preparing the meat by now, she thought. But there was no scent of roasting flesh, not even the sharp smell of woodsmoke.

  Ivyl’s patience lasted another hour before her irritation boiled over. She decided to hunt down the brazen swordsman who dared to trick her again. Quickly picking up his footprints in the soft loam, she drifted on the wind, following the rapid breath of someone running toward the base of the mountain.

  Half an hour later, the trail grew fresh. Ivyl lunged forward and fired a small bolt of blue light, tripping the amateur swordsman. Aeron groaned in pain, but his hand remained clamped shut around a small bag that was twitching and scratching violently.

  "You’re good!" Ivyl shouted. "But don't think I’ll ever trust you again!"

  Instead of being angry, Aeron scrambled to his feet with a wide, toothy grin.

  "I was just testing to see if you could find me!" he said. "Ha! You really are amazing. I had several hours’ head start, and you still caught me!"

  "Enough!" Ivyl snapped. "Now, do I take you back to the tribe peacefully, or do I have to tie you up?"

  "I want to make a wager," Aeron said, abruptly changing the subject.

  "A wager? On what?"

  "A duel. No magic, just steel and staff," Aeron replied. "If I lose this time, I’ll go with you quietly. I promise I won't try to run ever again."

  "You already lied to me once!" Ivyl’s eyes flashed with anger, though the expression only made her look more endearing. "Why should I believe you?"

  "I swear by my God!" Aeron said solemnly. "I never made a formal promise last time!"

  Since I’m an atheist, what does it matter? No matter what he swore on, Aeron was certain he had already won this bet.

  Ivyl frowned, weighing her options. Finally, she exhaled and nodded.

  "A promise is a promise," she warned. "If you break your word this time, I won't show mercy."

  "Deal," Aeron said. "I don't expect to lose. But what if you are the one who fails?"

  Ivyl planted her staff into the ground, eager to settle this once and for all. "If I lose, not only will I stop forcing you to go home... but I will help you rescue that girl you’re looking for! I swear it by the all-powerful Saint Por’Unofa!"

  What a strange name for a saint, Aeron thought. A very strange tribe indeed.

  He unsheathed his sword and fell into a defensive stance. Ivyl smiled, swung her staff, and lunged with a sudden thrust.

  Swordsmanship begins with measured force. Aeron remembered. He twisted his body, dodging the staff, and swung a counter-strike at her ribs. Ivyl, prepared for the move, parried with ease and delivered a swift kick toward his stomach. Aeron flicked his wrist, using the flat of his blade to shield his midsection.

  Ivyl sprang back, looking at him with surprise. He had learned to control his strength, allowing for rapid, successive movements. But it wasn't enough to overcome a sorceress trained by the Lion Tribe’s greatest masters. She pressed her advantage, her strikes becoming a blur of deceptive arcs.

  Measured force combined with solid form. Aeron focused his mind, parrying her relentless blows and occasionally finding the gap to strike back.

  The sorceress realized Aeron had made incredible progress since their last duel. He was calm, devoid of the frantic desperation of a common brawler. His movements were sharp—stiff, perhaps—but his efficiency made it difficult for Ivyl to find an opening.

  "Now... for fluidity!" Aeron roared.

  His style shifted instantly. No longer following the predictable patterns Ivyl had already deciphered, the Tuckerham blade danced in his hand like falling petals, then surged like a storm. It wasn't yet perfect, but the shifting tempo created a terrifying lethality.

  Ivyl found herself on the defensive. While she was no stranger to close-quarters combat, the sword was the domain of knights. Aeron’s technique—rooted in the ancient styles of Sar’Gour of Bard—was far superior to the raw staff-fighting of her tribe.

  Aeron seized the advantage, using his superior tactical movement to strike at her flank. After nearly fifty grueling exchanges, the sorceress decided to play a card of her own. Channeling mana into her staff, she leaped over Aeron’s head. She spun the staff, encasing its heavy head in a swirling vortex of energy, and brought it down with crushing force.

  Aeron hadn't expected the sweet, naive girl to play dirty. He raised his sword to block, but the magically enhanced blow was too heavy. It slammed into him, knocking him senseless. He collapsed onto the pebbles by the stream.

  Aeron groaned, staring up at Ivyl with indignant eyes. She smirked and shrugged. "Just learning from you."

  Aeron responded with a cryptic smile. Suddenly, he surged upward and flung the bag from his belt at her. Instinctively, Ivyl caught it.

  Immediately, a chorus of high-pitched squeaks erupted as a swarm of black forest rats poured out of the bag and scrambled onto her.

  Ivyl screamed, dropping her staff in terror. She bolted into the stream, thrashing wildly to shake the rats from her clothes. Aeron didn't waste a second. He snatched his sword, lunged forward, and pinned her down.

  "You lost, Ivyl," Aeron said, grinning in triumph.

  Ivyl froze, the sharp edge of the blade resting against her throat. She was trembling with a mix of fury and fear. Seeing an opportunity he couldn't resist, Aeron leaned in close, catching her by the waist to hold her still.

  "Now," he teased, his face inches from hers. "Should I shave your eyebrows or your hair first?"

  Ivyl had never been threatened like this. Standing before Aeron’s mock-menace, she went pale with fear. But beneath the fear was a sensation she couldn't name. It was the first time she had been this close to a man her own age. Her pale face suddenly flushed a deep, beautiful crimson. Her breath hitched.

  Aeron realized he was taking the joke too far. He released her, and Ivyl tumbled into the shallow water.

  "Don't follow me anymore," Aeron commanded. "Next time, it won't just be a few mice. I’ll find a whole nest of fat ones to drop on you."

  Ivyl shuddered at the threat. She exhaled slowly, looking up at him with wide, soft eyes.

  "I lost," she said softly. "The vow to the all-powerful Por’Unofa must be kept. I will help you find and rescue the one you love. Even if..." she looked away, "...I still don't know what love is."

  Aeron smiled and reached out a hand to pull her up. Though he teased her about being a burden, he was secretly overjoyed. He had just gained a powerful ally.

  Wait for me, Princess, Aeron thought.