Zezog put on a straw hat that somehow made him look even less intimidating. Was this really the legendary berserker? Zezog the Barbarian? An old, balding man who wore shorts and a vest?

  “We’ll practice without shards,” Zezgog said. He had led Owin to the end of the road, putting them a good distance from any crops or buildings.

  “But I should be practicing with my full power.”

  “No.” Zezog wiped his hands on his vest. “If you can’t fight without overwhelming power, you can’t fight at all. When you are against an opponent stronger than yourself, you will guarantee a loss. Strategy will give you an advantage.”

  “He’s right,” Althowin said. She had just been following as she snacked on random things of food she had taken from Zezog’s cabinets. The berserker didn’t seem to care.

  “I have some strategies.” Owin shifted his grip on the Thunderstrike Maul. If all he ever did was jump and smash, he wouldn’t still be alive. Even when he did leap at enemies, there was some thought put into it. There could probably be more, but . . . he wasn’t useless.

  “Explain them to me.”

  “I could show you.”

  “No,” Zezog said. “Fighting at an extreme level requires thinking. Instincts follow from practice. Nothing is achieved without effort and thought. Explain your strategies.”

  Owin tried his best not to make a face. “Sometimes I use Smoke Cloud to hide my movements so I can surprise my enemy. I’ve thrown weapons before. With big enemies I’ve, uh, gotten myself eaten so I could cut my way out. I guess that’s mostly it other than when I jump and attack. That’s the main thing I do.”

  “With your height, I can understand that.” Zezog widened his stance. “Show me your main attack as if we were fighting.”

  Owin lifted the hammer as he crouched. “But without my shard?”

  “Right.”

  “I won’t move as fast as I normally would.”

  Zezog’s face was serious. “Basics first. Hit me as if you are trying to kill.”

  Normally, Owin would consider arguing. Hitting as hard as he could would certainly kill most people. Even when he wasn’t using his shard, his strength was high enough to crack the ground. He hardly had any time to train with his shard, and he was hoping to see how fast he would move.

  That could wait.

  Owin dashed across the gap, leapt, and swung the glowing hammer down. The speed and power made him wish he had been able to use the Thunderstrike Maul against Chaudius. That fight would have been over quickly.

  Zezog caught the metal hammer in a single hand. A shockwave passed through the air causing the crops surrounding the property to sway.

  Owin fell back to the ground and took the hammer as it was handed back to him.

  Zezog knelt, making himself much closer to Owin’s eye level, though he was still tall. “It was fast. With how short you are, jumping to hit vital areas may seem like the easiest option. In the air, you are vulnerable.”

  “I’ve been caught mid jump before.” He had also been thrown in the air, or water, before and been unable to do much about it.

  “You could fix that weakness after your second shard by choosing a flying creature for your fusion. You could also fix your size disadvantage with fusion. For now, fusion is a long way off. You need to focus on fighting to your strengths. Your speed is impressive, and your strength is admirable. If you are able to raise your constitution, you will be in a position to act much like a knight without spells. Until then, you can still stand your ground, so to speak. If you use your speed to block and dodge, you can stay in your enemy’s face, or rather, their legs.”

  “Is that a joke?” Althowin asked. “I know I need to tune them up, but come on!”

  Zezog stood to his full height, brushed some dirt from his metal knee, and shifted back into a fighting stance. “Al?”

  Althowin, sitting on the porch, leaned over, flipped something open, and tossed a massive single-edged sword. Zezog caught it perfectly without looking. The dull gray sword was scratched and worn, but simply seeing the six foot blade made Owin feel some type of dread. That was something beyond a master quality item. It had a presence he could feel.

  “I don’t know if I’m fast enough with the hammer to fight up close.” Owin took a step back. “I don’t know if . . . I don’t know.”

  “What’s on your mind, Owin?” Zezog let the edge of the great blade drop until it dug into the ground.

  “What is attacking legs going to do?”

  “It will make your opponent drop. If their head is five feet above you or five hundred feet, they will bring their heart and brain to the ground if you take their legs away. Most opponents will be on the ground. We can talk about airborne ones later. If you are worried about speed, use one of your other weapons. This sword doesn’t have a damage type, so you are free to use anything.”

  Owin walked back to where he had started before. “Can I start with another jump?”

  “Do as you please.” Zezog lifted the huge sword again and held it in a single hand, ready to fight.

  If he was going to practice using his speed up close, his best options were the knives. Getting close with the hammer, then discarding it would be a better way to use his style. It probably wasn’t the most efficient, but he would worry about that later.

  “Are you ready?” Owin asked.

  Zezog cracked the slightest smile. “Yes.”

  Owin jumped straight from his position. No dashing forward. The ground beneath him shattered as he flew straight at Zezog. The Thunderstrike Maul hit full charge, shining like the sun. Instead of catching it with his free hand, Zezog swung the single-edged sword so fast it became a blur. The dull metal clanged against the Thunderstrike Maul, causing the charge to explode. Zezog slid back an inch, but was unphased from the sudden burst.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Owin let the hammer slip from his grip as the shockwave shook the weapon. He hit the ground hard as the hammer tumbled through the air behind him. Before Zezog recovered his stance, Owin grabbed the Darkblade and lich bone from his belt.

  The single-edged blade swung down with an aura of death. Owin ducked and dashed forward, letting the blade cleave through the ground. He electrified the Darkblade and jammed it into an opening of Zezog’s right leg. If the metal leg was created by Althowin, there was likely no chance he could cut through it, but there were still panels and joints, and the electrified blade wreaked havoc. He could have torn the lich bone through Zezog’s upper thigh on his other leg where it was still flesh, but there would have been no benefit to hurting the old man.

  Zezog fell to one knee and tore the dagger free. He tossed it to the side, where it continued to spark. “Clever.”

  “Are you okay?” Owin asked.

  “Are you trying to piss me off?” Althowin shouted from where she sat.

  “He’s fine, Al.” Zezog stood and pounded his fist on his thigh. Something inside the leg clicked. “It already needed work.”

  “Not that much.”

  Owin grabbed his knife, turned off the charge gem, and walked back in front of Zezog. “Is that what you meant?”

  “Not entirely. In some situations, going between the legs will be an ideal strategy. There will be other times where you will need to stay in front of the opponent. How often have you truly dueled?”

  “Uh, basically never.”

  “Keep the knives for now. Soon, we can try your sword. We will practice with every weapon and we will practice until neither of us can stand.”

  “I don’t get tired like normal people,” Owin said. He had to crane his neck to look basically straight up from his position. “I don’t sleep or eat.”

  “Exhaustion?”

  “Kind of, but not really. Not as fast.”

  Zezog finally smiled. “I am slow to grow tired. A benefit of the elf blood in my veins. Let us start. We can stop when one of us truly collapses. It may be Al’s leg that fails first.”

  “Hey!” Althowin fully sat up. “Don’t you fucking dare insult that leg.”

  “We will start with a small game.” Zezog widened his stance a little. “You are not allowed to move your feet. We stand our ground. The first to fall back loses. You may only use your weapons and hands. No spells. No abilities.”

  “What if we get hurt?”

  “I’ve got every healing potion you could ever want. I’ll drown you in a bath of it if I need to,” Althowin said.

  “Okay.” Owin widened his stance a little. He kept the lich bone in his metal hand even though he doubted Althowin would give him a knife that would ruin his new prosthetic. “I’m ready.”

  Zezog swung the sword down so fast that Owin barely had time to bring the knives together. He sunk into the ground up to his ankles as he held back Zezog’s first attack. Owin leaned forward, swinging the lich bone as hard as he could. Before he even reached Zezog’s leg, the side of the single-edged sword smacked against Owin’s head, sending him straight into the ground.

  Althowin was beside him, pouring health potions on his face until he sat up. “Maybe a little softer.”

  “I apologize, Owin.”

  Owin sat on the ground, blinking. He didn’t even realize he had been knocked unconscious. A faint ringing remained in his mind, but it was quickly fading after his health had been restored.

  “Again?” Owin asked.

  Zezog smiled. “Again.”

  Owin found a new spot to stand where the ground hadn’t yet been ruined. The beginning went much the same, though he was more prepared for the initial block. Instead of stabbing right away, he ducked, barely dodging a horizontal swing from Zezog. Owin threw the lich bone and punched with his metal hand. Before he could land the attack, the sword caught him on the shoulder, sending him straight back at the ground.

  He let Althowin pour a potion on his face before standing, grabbing the lich bone, and finding a new spot. “Again.”

  “Do you want to try your sword?” Zezog asked.

  “No. Get ready.”

  Zezog readied his sword and looked down with his yellow eyes. “Ready.”

  ***

  Myrsvai was starting to get concerned in a way he had never been concerned before.

  Shade repeatedly smacked his forehead on the table. If he hit himself hard enough, he was going to poof out of existence, and Myrsvai had no idea where Owin was at the moment.

  Chorsay collected the cards, shuffled, and dealt Shade new cards.

  The skeleton eagerly picked them up, looked over them both, set them back down and nodded. Chorsay laid out more cards with a deep frown.

  “Bust,” he said.

  Shade wailed and put his head back on the table. “You’re cheating!”

  “It’s mostly chance, Shade.” Chorsay collected the cards. “There can be patterns, but it is a rather simple game.”

  “Are you calling me simple?” Shade asked with his head back on the table.

  “No. It means what’s happening is out of your control. Myr, come join us for one game. Show him how difficult it can be, despite the simplicity.”

  Myrsvai sighed and set his book face down. He hadn’t really been reading anyway. Between their never ending game and Suta’s training, his mind was anywhere but in his head.

  Shade sat up and acted like he was wiping tears away. “Do you know how to play?”

  “Even if I didn’t, I’ve heard Chorsay explain the rules to you a dozen times now.” Myrsvai sat beside the skeleton.

  A deep rumble passed through the floor. Chorsay looked into the distance, obviously able to hear and feel the training going on just one building over. If the compound had been built by anyone else, the fight would destroy a city block. Arkasti and Suta were serious.

  Myrsvai couldn’t help but notice the constant drain on his mana, even as he sat lazily. It was good. Suta was adding magic into his martial arts. Truly a massive step forward.

  Chrosay dealt cards and waited.

  Shade picked up both of his and practically shook.

  “Leave them on the table,” Myrsvai said.

  “I know, I know. I get it.” He had a five and a two. Why was he so excited?

  Mrysvai looked at his own. Two threes. Odd. “Hit me.”

  “Yes,” Shade said.

  Chorsay dealt more. Myrsvai watched Shade lean in close to his new card, a five, and squint. His eye sockets narrowed. It didn’t help him see better, so what was the point?

  Myrsvai touched his new card, also a five, positioning it correctly beside the threes.

  “What’s your move?” Chorsay asked calmly.

  Shade looked over.

  “Again,” Myrsvai said.

  “Yes. Do that.” Shade nodded eagerly and tapped his card.

  Two face cards. Myrsvai laughed. There was nothing else he could do.

  “What’s so funny?” Shade leaned close to his new card again. “It’s a woman. What’s that mean?”

  “Ten,” Chorsay said.

  Myrsvai laughed harder.

  “Wait. Two, five, five. . .” Shade gently picked up the queen. “This is a betrayal.”

  Myrsvai slid his cards forward. “Twenty one.”

  Shade’s eyes managed to widen. “Betrayal!” He wailed and fell from his chair. “I’ve been metaphorically stabbed in the back!”

  Chorsay gathered the cards. “I think we should find a new activity.”

  Shade immediately popped back up, just far enough for his skull to rise above the table. “You don’t think I can do it?”

  “It’s not that.”

  Another rumble shook the ground.

  “Is it because you think Suta is stronger than me?” Shade asked.

  “No, Shade. There are other games we can play if you really want to play more.”

  “Oh. Really?” He sat back in the chair. “I know I used to play games, but I couldn’t say what any of them were. I thought maybe you only knew this one and I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

  “Okay.” Chorsay shuffled the deck and started dealing cards. “I’ll explain the rules as we go. We can start slow.”

  “Full speed,” Shade said. “I learn fast.”

  Myrsvai raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t you dare metaphorically stab me in the front too!”