• The sun had not yet risen, but the sky was an ominous red when Doyle and Cedric met in the rear yard. They said nothing at first, but took the time to take in each other’s attire, noting every piece of armor and weapon visible to them.
    Doyle wore his breastplate and arm guards, opting to leave his shin guards in the room for better ease of movement. The scratched and dented armor seemed even more worn in the darkness of the yard, but he knew it would do its job and protect him well. Hadn’t it proved itself many times in the past, protecting him from blows that should have killed him?
    His massive broadsword he held, sheathed, in one hand, not bothering to strap it on. The stiff, weighty scabbard would only be a hindrance and Doyle knew he needed every edge he could get. He’d tied his long hair back with a piece of leather to keep it out of his face and wore a sleeveless shirt so it wouldn’t pull across his arms when he lifted them. In all, he’d done everything he could to make sure nothing on his person could be blamed for a loss. He wanted no regrets when this was finished, no matter the outcome.
    Cedric, on the other hand, had come fully armored, and even in this dim lighting, his armor shone as if it had a light of its own. At his belt sat two single-bladed hand axes instead of a sword. He wore no helmet, but his chest piece had a high neck guard that would have protected him from losing his head in battle. Any signs of wear had long ago been removed from the metal, making it look new and pristine. It made Doyle feel like the dark mercenary fighting the gallant, shining knight.
    Doyle glanced up at the second floor window of the inn, causing Cedric to look as well. Eadoin stood in the casement, gripping the curtains tightly in her small fists, her face twisted in fear and worry as she chewed her lower lip. Doyle had forbidden her from coming into the yard until the fight had ended, telling her she would be too much of a distraction that neither man could afford. He’d tried to convince her not to even watch, knowing how this fight was already upsetting her, but she’d flatly refused, demanding that she be allowed to at least watch from the window. Doyle had nodded and given her a quick, hard kiss before descending to the yard.
    “She is worth it, don’t you agree?” Cedric said. Doyle looked back to him but Cedric’s eyes were still on Eadoin. “Worth killing for? Worth dying for?” He finally looked at Doyle, his smile belaying the seriousness of his question.
    “Do you try to rile me on purpose?” Doyle asked with a frown.
    Cedric grinned. “Just making sure she’ll be in good hands if I fail.”
    “Then I have a question for you as well,” Doyle said. Cedric raised a brow in question. “Having heard from her what she had suffered, and knowing what more she will suffer if you take her home, do you still intend to return her if you win?”
    Cedric’s smile faded. “I have sworn an oath to follow the orders of my king. Yes, I will return her.” Before Doyle could argue, he added, “But I do not have to leave her there. My task was to bring her to her father. Once done, I will take her some place safe. Some place out of his reach.” Doyle nodded, relived to know, if he lost, Eadoin would not be subjected to her father’s cruelties again.
    He gripped the hilt of his sword and freed it from the scabbard, hurling the empty sheath across the yard. Cedric removed the axes from his belt, giving them a quick spin before tightening his grip on them.
    “When you are ready,” he said to Doyle.
    Doyle waited. The sun rose slowly in the east, its light inching across the yard. Their tension mounted as each waited for the other to move.
    The light suddenly touched Cedric, glinting off the silver axe and Doyle lunged forward with a roar. Sword met axe in a loud clash as they collided. Doyle quickly twisted the blade up, then down, trying to catch it in the curve of the axe and disarm Cedric. But Cedric let it slide along the blade instead, using the momentum to spin him and bring the other axe up from the side. Doyle quickly stepped back, using his arm guard to deflect it. He spun, bringing the sword around in a downward slash to Cedric’s side but he was met again by the clash of metal meeting metal.
    This time, Cedric had locked both axes around Doyle’s blade and a quick twist sent the weapon flying, ripped from Doyle’s grasp. He could thank his quick reflexes for the fist that connected with Cedric’s nose, snapping his head back and forcing him back several steps as blood began to gush from his nose. Doyle dove for his sword, but as he turned with it at the ready he saw Cedric still standing where he was, staring at the blood now on his hand.
    He looked up at Doyle. “Oh! Unfair!” he cried.
    Doyle grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m used to fighting people with fewer scruples than you.”
    “I’ll forgive you this time, then, but don’t let it happen again,” Cedric said sternly.
    “Thank you… I think,” Doyle said with a wry smile.
    Cedric wiped his sleeve across his nose, smearing blood along his cheek. “Where did you get that sword?” he asked. “It’s magnificent!”
    “It was a gift from a friend,” Doyle answered, his expression grim.
    Cedric whistled. “Some friend to give so fine a gift.” Doyle nodded. “Must have cost a small fortune.” Again, Doyle nodded. “It’s a shame,” Cedric sighed, “that I’ll have to damage it to get to you.” The last was shouted out as Cedric leapt at Doyle, bringing both axes down at him. But Doyle was ready for this tactic and he brought up his broadsword to block him, bracing the blade against his palm. He shoved to the side, stepping in to throw his shoulder against Cedric’s chest. It threw Cedric off balance and Doyle quickly stepped around him, laying the hilt of his sword to Cedric’s back. He knew Cedric heard the ringing in his ears as the hilt struck the metal plate on his back because Doyle could feel the vibrations travel up his arm, his fingers going numb briefly.
    But despite his discomfort, Cedric spun, bringing the axe around and aiming for Doyle’s arm. Doyle knew he would never be able to avoid or block the axe in time and he anticipated the blade striking his flesh with dread. But at the last second, Cedric turned the axe so that only the flat of it struck his shoulder, sending Doyle stumbling forward several steps. There would be a massive bruise there later, but better a bruise than the loss of an arm, which the small axe was surely capable of accomplishing.
    Doyle quickly righted himself, bringing his blade around just in time to block another downward swing. He had been right not to underestimate Cedric. The knight proved himself as the blades connected again and again. Doyle found himself admiring the man, and his skills. It was turning into a test of endurance as the sun rose higher in the sky. Each swing was met or deflected, each step countered. Cedric was a well-trained, seasoned knight, but Doyle’s own training wasn’t lacking.
    His arms were growing tired, the muscles aching, and his breathing was labored, but he knew Cedric suffered the same. They both bore cuts and bruises where a blade had come too close and their armor was smeared with blood. Each strike brought them that much closer to an outcome.
    Doyle lunged and Cedric locked the axes around the blade again. It was the chance Doyle had been waiting for. He spun his blade, tearing the axes from Cedric’s grip. A well-placed kick sent Cedric sprawling in the dirt and as his sword came down he heard a scream from the upper window.
    The blade stuck in the ground next to Cedric’s head. “Yield,” Doyle said. Cedric gave a slow nod, his chest heaving in his exhaustion. Doyle reached out a hand to help Cedric to his feet. Clasping his forearm, Doyle eyed Cedric and asked, “You didn’t lose on purpose, did you?”
    “Cedric laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Figured you’d take it as an insult.”
    Suddenly they heard the inn door slam open and they looked to see Eadoin running at them, tears streaming down her face. She threw herself at them, grabbing them both around the neck to pull them in close to her. “Never again!” she cried, sobbing. Doyle and Cedric glanced at each other before they both burst out laughing.