Well, I was up for the challenge.
Chapter Twenty-One
I met Hamon’s gaze, a look of disdain so cold it sent a shiver down my spine. Even after five bouts of fighting, there wasn’t a single stain on his robes, and not a hair was out of place. He seemed completely in control.
I knew that for the lie it was. I had seen what happened when Hamon didn’t get his way, when the blazing fury melted away his icy exterior. He had the power to destroy almost any initiate here and had no qualms about using it. In fact, that was where my best hope for victory lay. While he was calm, he would combine that power with skill and calculation. But if I could enrage him, if I could unleash that seething mass of resentment, then it would be a very different fight.
“I’m surprised you got this far!” I called out. The crowd had fallen silent as we prepared to fight and so my words carried to the whole guild. “Didn’t think you’d make it past the second round.”
“Nice try, outsider,” Hamon snarled. “But we both knew how this was going to end. Your blood, my victory.”
“Sounds like Daddy Wysaro gave someone too much praise. Misplaced confidence is a terrible thing.”
“So are wasted words.”
Hamon closed his eyes and raised his curved swords. Fire flared from both and turned their short blades into lances of flame. I had seen him wield them many times now, and I knew how light and swift-moving they were. My heart beat faster as adrenaline coursed through my veins.
I raised my sword and summoned a Flame Shield on my other arm. It was time.
We stalked across the loose dirt of the arena as we circled each other in an ever tightening spiral until we stood just beyond weapons reach.
“You know your dad came to see me,” I said, so quietly that only he would hear. “Sounds like there was something he didn’t trust you to do here. Or maybe he just wanted the best fire Augmenter on his side.”
Hamon stepped forward, and his flaming weapons stabbed at me from both left and right. I brought my sword up and parried the attacks before I rushed forward and shoulder barged him. He went flying, and I thought I’d gained an advantage. But, instead of falling on his back, he rolled over, flipped to his feet, and landed as nimbly as any acrobat.
“Crude,” he hissed. “As I would expect of a foreigner.”
He advanced again, fiery lances raised. He spun one around his hand, and it formed a virtual wall of fire to his left side. He jabbed at me with his right hand, testing my reflexes and the limits of my Flame Shield.
With that spinning arc of death on one side, it was hard for me to get inside his reach. He advanced steadily across the arena and pushed me back toward the far wall. I swayed and darted from side to side while I searched for any kind of opening.
This was no good. As long as I was on the defensive, he had the luxury of taking the initiative. I would have to give up something to gain an edge.
I let my Flame Shield drop, and Hamon swung in to make the most of my sudden vulnerability. I leaped and arced my back to jump over his Scorching Lance. I landed hard on my shoulder and rolled to my feet before coming up at a run. Clear of the space between his extended weapons, I fired a series of Untamed Torch blasts over my shoulder. My fireballs forced him to lower one weapon and raise a Flame Shield to deflect them.
At the edge of the arena, I turned, slashed my sword, and summoned a Burning Wheel. A blue fireball erupted from the tip of my blade and expanded until it became a whirling storm of azure flames, but Hamon dodged easily out of its path. My attack ventured toward the stands, and I sucked it dry of Vigor until it vanished. The Burning Wheel was far too chaotic in this situation, and it would advance into the spectators too easily and cause them serious harm.
For now, I had to use more targeted attacks. I recreated my burning shield as Hamon caught up. I darted in before he had time to switch weapons and lashed at him with my brightly shining sword.
Hamon was as skilled with arms as he was at Augmenting. He caught my first two blows on his shield, parried the third with his lance, then counter-attacked with the sword in his shield-side hand. The fight swayed back and forth between us, each taking a moment of advantage before being forced back onto the defensive. The crowd gasped and cheered as we each came within inches of victory, only to have it snatched away by a skillful block.
We paused for a moment and caught our breath. I was pouring with sweat, but Hamon barely even showed signs of exertion, his skin as porcelain pale as ever. Only a few strands of loose hair hung down the left side of his face and showed the strain he was under.
He blew the strands aside, but they fell back, and his face crumpled into an expression of annoyance.
“Not so perfect now,” I said. “I’m getting to you.”
“You’re nothing,” he snarled as fire flared in his eyes. “I’ll turn you to ashes.”
“Ashes don’t bother me,” I said. “Something has to remain once the fire’s gone.”
“Fire is never gone. Fire always—”
He was interrupted by the deep bass ringing of a gong. The note resounded across the rooftops of the guild and echoed back from the mountain behind. No sooner had the first note died than there came another and another, with increasing urgency.
“The alarm!” Master Rutmonlir leaped from his seat, and his wild beard
