08 A Little Hatred: Book One (The Age of Madness)

Leo gritted his teeth. ‘My point is, I need to focus. It’s a shame about Barniva. He was a brave man. A good friend. Always there when you needed him.’ He felt his voice quavering a little. ‘If he hadn’t put his shield across me …’ Perhaps he’d still be alive. All his tedious warnings about the horrors of war seemed wise words now. Leo never thought he might have missed them. ‘It’s a damn shame about Barniva, but we’ll have to mourn him later. Right now, we need to make his sacrifice worthwhile. Him, and Ritter, and all the others …’ His voice was quavering again, damn it. He felt a surge of anger. ‘I need you all to bloody focus. I have to pick a weapon to take to the Circle. My life might hang on the choice.’

Jurand straightened up. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just …’ And he sagged back down. ‘In a box.’

‘Spear,’ said Antaup. ‘It has the reach, the speed, the finesse—’

‘Finesse.’ Whitewater chuckled. ‘The Circle’s no place for finesse.’

Glaward rolled his eyes like he never heard such folly. ‘And once Stour Nightfall slips around your pig-sticker, what then?’

‘Your counterproposal?’ asked Antaup with an urbane arched eyebrow. ‘A monstrous battleaxe, I daresay, heavier than he is, that he can swing twice before he’s blown?’

Glaward looked slightly affronted. ‘They make small axes, too.’

‘Spear’s too cumbersome for single combat in a small space.’ Jin grimaced as he rubbed at his bruised cheek again. ‘Axe is simple, sturdy, good close up.’

‘If you want close up, a sword’s more versatile.’ Antaup mimed the actions. ‘Thrust, slash, lunge, pommel strike.’

Glaward rolled his eyes. ‘Always with the bloody pommel strike. Sword is obvious.’

‘Sword is classic.’

‘You’re all missing the point,’ snapped Leo. ‘You take a weapon, but you never know if you’ll fight with it, or hand it to your opponent and fight with whatever he brings. What you need is something you can use but the other bastard can’t.’

Glaward frowned. ‘Such as …’

‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you!’

‘Maybe you should ask someone clever.’ Jin was wobbling a tooth now, just behind the bruise, checking if it was loose. ‘Like your mother.’

‘We’re not on the best of terms right now,’ said Leo, grumpily. ‘She’s not too keen on the whole duel idea.’

There was a brief silence. Antaup and Glaward exchanged a meaningful glance. Then Jurand sat forward, all open and earnest, flames reflected in the corners of his eyes. Leo couldn’t deny it had an effect on him, when he did that. ‘Do you think … maybe … you should listen to her?’

‘Really? Now?’

‘Well, she’s about the best tactician I know—’

‘So you don’t think I can do it?’

‘No one believes in you more than me!’ Jurand cleared his throat, glanced at the others, sat back a little. ‘More than us. But single combat … it’s a gamble. Anything could happen. I don’t … we don’t want you to get … hurt.’ His voice failed him on the last word and became a croak. As if he couldn’t quite bring himself to say ‘killed’. They all knew it could only be victory or the Great Leveller.

‘You any good with a whip?’ asked Antaup.

Leo stared at him. ‘Seriously?’

‘I once saw this Gurkish woman whip swords out of men’s hands. At a show. They came up from the audience, and, well, it was quite something. She whipped a girl’s dress half-off without cutting her, too.’ And he grinned at the memory.

‘So I should whip Stour Nightfall’s clothes off?’ asked Leo.

‘No, but, you know, I was thinking of something he couldn’t use, and—’

‘I should whip the bloody lot of you.’ Rikke walked up, pushing chagga around her bottom lip with her tongue, as usual, and slowly shaking her shaggy head. Leo was glad to see her. Very glad. She always made him feel good. Long Eye or not, she always saw past the nonsense, somehow, and right to the heart of things. She helped him see to the heart of things. The dead knew, he needed some clarity then.

‘We’re talking of weapons, woman,’ grumbled Glaward.

‘I heard, man,’ said Rikke, ‘and you’re talking with your arses. What you take into the Circle in your hands matters far less than what you take in your head.’ And she tapped at the side of her skull. ‘Doubt you lot are much help with the former and you’re a bloody hindrance with the latter.’

‘And how many duels have you fought?’ complained Jin.

‘As many as all you lot put together,’ she answered smartly. ‘Now lose yourselves, I need to talk to my champion.’

Maybe they were used to being ordered around by Leo’s mother, and Rikke seemed to have borrowed her air of command. Sheepishly, they stood, gathered their things.

‘Don’t go far!’ she called after them. ‘He’ll need you to hold the shields!’

‘What’s got into you?’ asked Leo.

Rikke gave a haughty sniff and made the ring through her nose twitch. ‘Isern said I should be taking the reins.’

‘I’m a horse now?’

‘Aye, and you need the spur.’

‘My mother usually gives me that.’ Leo felt a twinge of nerves, realising afresh he’d soon be fighting to the death. ‘When I need her most, she’s bloody abandoned me.’