First, there was the impact.

  An explosive shockwave travelled through Matthias’ hand and up his forearm, whispering of the terrible force he’d just unleashed. His limb was fine; years of training and two months of Divine Breath had strengthened it.

  The same could not be said for Petric’s jaw.

  Second, there was the crumpling.

  The Gift Wielder’s jaw held up against Matthias’ fist for all of a fraction of a heartbeat before it cracked, shattered, then utterly collapsed.

  Bones exploded into splinters.

  Teeth sprayed through the air.

  Third, there was the gurgle and spraying of blood.

  The sound finally reached Matthias’ ears—a wet crunch—as Petric’s head whipped to the side, body spinning. The Gift Wielder flew through the air, landing in a twitching heap. His sword clattered to the stones, freed from a nerveless hand.

  His eyes were now shut, his breathing wet.

  The gift of consciousness had abandoned him utterly.

  “That’s one.” Matthias cracked his neck, strolling back to his side of the fighting pit.

  An uproar exploded through the crowd.

  And Matthias Stonebreaker allowed himself a smile.

  ###

  “Petric! Peeetric!” Siegfried cried. “Someone save my cousin, he’s killed him! The bastard son-of-a-wolf has killed him!”

  Kari’s jaw hung open.

  “What just happened?” he whispered. “Since when could that derelict failure ever move like that?”

  “Somebody collect the boy!” Haakon roared. “See what can be done for him!”

  “I’ll kill him! I’ll kill that bastard!” Siegfried screamed.

  ###

  ‘Way of Stone. Way of Stone. Way of Stone,’ Matthias meditated on his side of the pit.

  On the opposite end, Eklund’s guards and servants swarmed over Petric.

  “He’s still alive!” a healer called, tearing pieces of cloth for wrappings. “But his jaw’s been destroyed!”

  “Get him out of there and into the infirmary then!” Eklund commanded.

  He looked toward Haakon.

  The big man still wore an amused smile, giving the earl a knowing nod.

  Matthias simply sat quietly.

  ‘Way of Stone. Way of Stone. Way of Stone,’ he thought, fighting down his excitement.

  He had to focus.

  There would be time to celebrate later.

  ###

  Siegfried came scrambling down the ladder—nearly frothing at the mouth—the minute his cousin was taken from the pit.

  He gripped a heavy spear, his eyes burning with fury. “I don’t know what sort of trickery you just pulled, you derelict freak, but I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done!”

  Matthias looked up at him, then rose, continuing to rise until he reached his full height.

  He lifted his hammer and drew his sword.

  Siegfried looked him up and down, then spit on the stones at his feet. “Oh, I bet you think so highly of yourself! Sneak attacks are not what make a warrior, you filthy oaf! I can tell you were training a bit while we were gone, but I’ll soon put you back in your place!”

  Matthias said nothing in return, simply looking at Eklund.

  The earl grimaced, raising his hand. “Prepare.”

  “Prepare to die, you piece of filth!” Siegfried snarled. “I will have my revenge. For Petric!”

  He raised his spear.

  Matthias met his gaze evenly.

  “For me,” he responded.

  “Begin!” Eklund shouted.

  Siegfried catapulted across the fighting pit; spear levelled like a knight’s lance.

  Matthias’ warhammer blurred up.

  Metal crashed on wood as the young greatfolk twisted his weapon—hooking it on the spear-haft—and planting his feet.

  Siegfried was pulled to the right; Matthias raised his blade, aiming a cut at his opponent’s side.

  The older boy cursed, twisting away.

  Steel cut the air.

  Siegfried spat, regaining his balance, stepping forward, jabbing with his spear in a flurry of thrusts. He was faster than one of Altaizar’s water replicas…but not as overwhelming as fighting two had been.

  And Matthias had fought all three at once.

  He weaved around the wild flurry, dodging the gleaming spearhead, and stepping back. Siegfried growled, chasing his larger opponent.

  “Stop trying to hit him and just hit him!” Kari called from above. “What are you doing?”

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  Siegfried’s snarl deepened. “I’m trying! He’s not staying still!”

  “Thought you had fun chasing me?” Matthias’ voice was calm. Steady. “Like a ‘common rabbit’, remember? Still enjoying your rabbit hunt?”

  “Shut up!” Siegfried screamed. “This isn’t right!”

  “Then by all means, let’s switch roles.”

  Matthias slapped the spear aside with his sword.

  “Wha—” Siegfried backed up.

  Matthias thrust with his blade, pushing his opponent back. Each time that spear came up he would slap it away. Siegfried’s confidence began to slip, his face grimacing every time his spear was struck.

  “H-hey!” he cried. “Stop that!”

  Matthias kept coming, his eyes never leaving Siegfried’s. He watched the anger and indignation bleed away, replaced first by confusion.

  Then by fear.

  “S-stay back! You monster!” Siegfried looked up at him, thrusting desperately.

  His form had grown sloppy; he flinched at Matthias’ every move, his thrusts faltering.

  “Get away!”

  And with a scream, he lunged.

  Matthias saw the mistake long before Siegfried realised it.

  Too much weight behind his thrust had put him slightly off-balance. Just slightly. Had Matthias been as he was before, he would not have caught the mistake.

  Now—unfortunately for Siegfried—he had changed.

  His body weaved around the spear, as he lashed out with his sword.

  The blade cut the air, sweeping toward Siegfried’s left hand.

  It landed on the back of his fingers; chainmail prevented them from being cut off, though it could do little against the force of the terrible blow.

  Bone crunched.

  Siegfried squealed, dropping his spear.

  His eyes filled with horror as he stared at his hand; every finger was bent and contorted at different angles.

  He lost focus, not paying attention to Matthias’ warhammer as it came down on his shoulder.

  A wet snap left his right arm dangling from its socket.

  Before Eklund could call the match, Matthias hammered the left shoulder with the pommel of his sword.

  Another wet crunch.

  Siegfried shrieked, crumpling to the stone in a squealing mass with his left hand destroyed and both shoulders shattered. His arms hung uselessly at his slides, flopping painfully as he writhed.

  “Stop! The match is ended!” Eklund cried. “Matthias Stonebreaker is the winner! Step back! Any more harm to Siegfried will be outside the bounds of the honour duel!”

  Matthias looked down at his trembling tormentor.

  All his life, Siegfried had seemed so…unstoppable to him. Like he would always be there, always this destructive force that he’d never be able to overcome. Now here he was, lying at Matthias’ feet, his body broken.

  He turned his back on the fallen filth without a single word and strode back toward his side of the pit.

  As Matthias walked away, he silently raised his sword in the air.

  Roars burst from the crowd.

  ###

  “Father.” Kari swallowed saliva, eyes boggling. Rage and fear coursed through him. “What is happening?”

  Siegfried—a strong, young warrior who Kari had known his whole life—had just been destroyed, while Matthias Stonebreaker had not a single scratch on him.

  Kari shook his head. “Father….”

  “That boy did something,” Haakon muttered. “Thinks he’s smart. Thinks he’s gonna pull one over on all of us. I dunno if he Awakened to Life Enforcement somehow or took some filthy potion from that mage, or whatever. But it’s not going to help him against the Strongest! His mistake was asking for a fight between boys then inviting a man in to teach him a lesson. And I’ll learn him alright.”

  He cracked his knuckles, took a swig from his wineskin, then slipped on his gauntlets. The very same gauntlets he’d used to beat countless opponents—mortal and monster—to death.

  “Listen, I’m gonna make sure that he never does anything like this to you or any of your friends again.” Haakon patted his son on the shoulder. “Your dad bails you out, right? Remember, that boy down there isn't the hero of this story. He’s fodder that needs to be put back in his place. Right? I’m gonna slay that giant.”

  “Father, I don’t know…I don’t like this. Something’s wrong,” Kari muttered.

  Haakon gave his son a searching look, then nodded. “Tell you what, I promise to make sure he never does anything like this again, y’hear me? Don’t you worry. Your dear dad’s gonna fix this, like always. He’ll be back t’being your personal target-practise in no time.”

  With that, Haakon nodded to Eklund then marched toward the fighting pit. “It’s my turn now. It’s time to end this. A man’s gotta do a man’s job.”

  Kari watched the broad back of his father approach the pit.

  The young man nodded, slapping himself.

  “Come on, get a grip, Kari,” he snapped. “Father’s going to fix this. He’s going to have this all tied up. Yes. It’ll all be alright.”

  ###

  Matthias silently watched Haakon jump into the pit, landing with hardly a sound, despite his bulk. His heavy plate armour gleamed in the sunlight and he gripped a long axe in gauntleted hands.

  The gauntlets were a dull grey, thicker than the rest of his armour.

  “Hey boy!” Haakon nodded to his opponent, spinning the axe in his hands. “I bet you think you’re so clever, don’t you!”

  Matthias didn’t answer.

  “Bet you think yourself quite the poet!” Haakon sneered.

  Above, the crowd had gone silent.

  “To the Gift Wielder? You took his voice, so he couldn’t use his magic.” Haakon snorted. “To the warrior? You took his arms, so he couldn’t wield weapons. ‘Let me take away what’s precious to them, you were thinking!’ Bet this is all a big game t’you, eh?”

  Matthias raised an eyebrow, then gave Haakon a little bow. “You guessed right.”

  “Oho! How vicious, boy.” Haakon sneered. “A broken jaw for the Gift Wielder and broken limbs for the Life Enforcement Practitioner. What will you break on me?”

  Matthias shook his head. “I don’t care what I break on you.” He pointed up at Kari. “It’s him I care about.”

  Kari jumped a little.

  “Oh? And what will fighting me break on my son?” Haakon looked up at his son, then glared at Matthias dangerously.

  “His spirit,” Matthias replied.

  The crowd went silent.

  “Well, well, well. Big plan…but a fool’s plan. You’re not going to beat me, boy,” Haakon snorted. “But I like the nerve of you. Here, why don’t we make things a little more interesting for both of us? You interested in a little wager?”

  “Like what?”

  “Don’t do it, Matthias!” Sur Friya called. “It’s bait!”

  “Quiet!” Haakon snapped, glaring at the knight. “The boy’s acting like a man, let him be a man!” The warrior lifted up his hands, showing his thick gauntlets to Matthias. “You see these? Well, let me let you in on a little secret. They’re forged with small channels for life energy; inject your life force into them, and they turn into something special.”

  Matthias peered at the gauntlets with interest. They seemed to radiate their own power. “What do they do?”

  “You’ll find out.” Haakon lifted his axe. “Found them in an old ruin in the Wolfwood. They’d go for quite a bit of gold in the right market…or you can keep ‘em and use ‘em for yourself. They’ll resize to fit their owner.”

  “And? What do you want me to bet in return?” Matthias asked.

  Haakon licked his lips. “Your hands.”

  The crowd exploded in an uproar.

  Dagma screamed.

  Sur Friya hurled curses down at Haakon.

  Altaizar eyed the gauntlets closely.

  Haakon shouted over the crowd. “If you lose, I get to chop your two hands off, either during the duel or right after I finish you! You’ll never wield a weapon or mason’s chisel again, boy. Just like you broke something precious belonging to my son’s friends, I’ll take something precious from you!”

  The crowd grew even louder.

  “Order! Order!” Eklund demanded.

  The noise quieted.

  “What do you think?” Haakon asked. “You gonna take the wager, or are ya too scared ya bit off too much of a mouthful to chew?”

  Matthias thought the wager over.

  Magic items of any sort were not a common thing; in most villages one could go their entire life without seeing a single one. Most were ancient—crafted before the Age of Wolves—and rare were those who could create such wonders in modern times.

  Haakon was right: even if he could not use the power within the gauntlets, selling them could bring a small fortune…and they could use the gold. His family did not have much in the way of wealth, and most of whatever they earned went to paying Altaizar and maintaining Bregindoure’s prison.

  There was really nothing to lose.

  His hands? If Haakon won, he’d brutalise Matthias’ body anyway.

  Besides…

  ‘I will not lose,’ the young greatfolk thought. ‘Not now.’

  He looked up at Altaizar. “Are those gauntlets worth anything or is he trying to trick me?”

  “There is power in them.” The mage eyed them carefully. “He speaks the truth.”

  Matthias nodded, then levelled his gaze at his opponent. “Your gauntlets for my hands. On our honour, the wager is done.”

  “Matthie no!” Dagma screamed.

  “The deal is settled!” Haakon laughed uproariously. “You have to hand it to me; I’m quite the smooth talker, aren’t I?”

  “Not really. All you’ve done is given me a helping hand.” Matthias allowed himself a smile.

  “Haha! I like you, boy!” Haakon raised his axe.

  Matthias raised his weapons. “That won’t last.”

  Eklund brought his arm up. “Prepare!”

  Both warriors tensed.

  Eklund’s arm came down. “Begin!”