‘Fight.’

  Adakontus sprang to life. Adrenaline immediately surged through him, a trained response. He snagged his weapon off the ground while rolling aside. A blade cut the empty air he vacated. The Instructor followed up with a controlled thrust, but Adakontus scrambled out of range. First hurdle cleared.

  The skeletal monster pressed its advantage. Exposed gray muscles rippled as its sword-lance arced downward. Adakontus choked up on his sword-lance and stepped into the attack, eager to trade. Parry and thrust. His blade tip passed a centimeter beside bleached ribs. The counterstrike passed through Adakontus’ eye and into his skull.

  ‘Fight.’

  Adakontus’ eyes shot open. He dodged the preemptive execution, twisting to his feet. Three steps carried him to false safety. Safety did not exist here. Adakontus merely delayed his next death, and he died when The Instructor chose to kill him.

  Both duelists stayed at the edges of striking distance, posturing. If Adakontus could slip inside The Instructor’s blade, he might repeat his near success. But a near success was a failure. In the end, Adakontus gave his life to miss. The Instructor might be weaving illusory openings, then snapping the trap on Adakontus’ throat. The monster threw a spear half a meter into solid — and probably magical — rock. It was certainly holding back, toying with him. No matter what tactic Adakontus used, no matter how precisely he struck, he failed to do anything but die. Repeatedly.

  Regardless, the current situation heavily favored The Instructor. It would cheerfully pick Adakontus apart with superior skill, then execute him. Adakontus rushed. The Instructor swung low to high. A step back, then another swing, low to high. Its sweeping motions threatened Adakontus’ legs, and kept him exactly where he didn’t want to be: one sword-lance length away from it.

  Adakontus dug his toes into the crusted arena floor, leaving a furrow in the brownish-red grime as he abruptly changed direction. The Instructor flowed from a sweep to an explosive thrust and almost pierced Adakontus’ groin. Adakontus retreated to the other side of the arena. The Instructor did not chase.

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  “Why?” Adakontus muttered.

  His anger flared.

  “Why are you playing these games?” he yelled. “Come and kill me, motherfucker! Quit this cat and mouse bullshit.”

  The Instructor obliged. Within a heartbeat, its skull invaded Adakontus’ face. Startled, he flinched away. The cold flames in its eyes licked his face. One skeletal hand held his weapon, while the other stuck a finger through his chest.

  Adakontus sidestepped a long, one-handed thrust. The Instructor whipped the sword-lance back before Adakontus could blink. It swung the unwieldy weapon around like a foam sword. Adakontus regretted his idiotic taunt. The Instructor no longer pretended to be human-like. It no longer acted defensively either. From the start of each duel, it overpowered Adakontus with raw strength and speed. Last duel, he’d gotten past the blade only to be pulped by the sword-lance’s metal shaft.

  He stole the ghost of an opening from between The Instructor’s barrage. A desperate charge, Adakontus abandoned the forms drilled into him, and dove bodily at the skeletal monster. A muscled shoulder — blacker than the eternal night in this strange land — ducked under his blade with inhuman speed, then rammed into his gut. Adakontus’ feet flipped over his head as he tumbled onto his back.

  It all felt useless, like emptying a lake with a bucket in a rainstorm. No, worse. At least in that scenario, he had a concrete goal. The Instructor forced Adakontus to duel for what? Training? All he’d been so far was every possible way to die to a sword-staff. Punishment? Maybe, but in that case The Instructor could go back to breaking his fingers off one by one. Adakontus’ best guess was simple sadism, but even that didn’t add up.

  “I don’t understand.”

  The Instructor halted its finishing blow. A student walked up next to it, called by a silent command. The Instructor hoisted the student into the hair by his black hair. It Instructor shook him, and he wiggled bonelessly like a dead duck in a shop window. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, sometimes forming into the remnant of a word. His hazel eyes darted about, focusing on empty air for brief moments.

  ‘No mind. Yet body learns.’ The Instructor tossed the man aside, and he walked back to his place at the edge of the arena.

  The blue flames in The Instructor’s eyes scoured Adakontus’ soul.

  ‘You. Must choose suffering. This one must force you to choose suffering. For death by blade is not always the end. But often. And we. We will never allow you peace.’

  Adakontus laid back for a moment, and stared into the black, oppressive clouds. Then he launched from the ground into The Instructor. He wrapped his left arm around the monster, while his right fist hammered into The Instructor’s side. It didn’t move a millimeter. Tears blurred his vision. Adakontus roared. He roared until his throat was hoarse.