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a hog that looked just like you. I slit its throat.”
    Tanner felt a surge of rage and pushed past the jeering crowd, unsheathing his sword. Blood pounded in his ears and he could barely think straight enough to plan what he’d do next.
    â€œYou stepped into the circle, friend,” Castor sneered, pointing his sword at Tanner’s face. “Nobody is going to save you now. Give me your sword, and I’ll let you walk away.”
    â€œTanner, don’t …” said Gwen. But he hardly heard.
    â€œYou’ll have to take it from me,” Tanner snapped back at the boy from Colton.
    Castor grinned. He paced closer to Tanner, his eyes narrowed, while the crowd cheered. His spare hand drifted toward the stubby dagger in his belt. Tanner drew his sword and held it low, ready to protect his torso.
    Castor drew his dagger and attacked. In one hand he wielded his sword; in his other, the dagger. He swiped left with the sword’s blade, and when Tanner blocked, Castor spun — just like he had with the skinny young boy — and darted forward with his dagger. Tanner stumbled backward, and Castor kicked him to the ground. Castor’s sword blade was pressed against Tanner’s throat. He raised the point of his dagger above Tanner’s chest.
    â€œAll I have to do is let go,” he said, jerking his head at the dagger, “and it will plunge into your heart.” Before he finished speaking, Tanner swiftly rolled to one side. Castor released the dagger, but it pierced the muddy ground. Tanner jumped to his feet, and, as Castor retrieved his dagger, Tanner brought his sword down. Castor straightened up just in time, blocking Tanner’s attack. Hastily, Castor shoved his dagger into his belt and attacked again with his sword. Tanner parried high, dodged a sideswipe, and just managed to bat down Castor’s sword. They circled.
    He’s better than I am, Tanner realized.
    He could see that Castor knew it, too. He was waving his fist at the crowd again and nodding at the responding chants.
    Castor knocked Tanner’s sword down, forcing him to double up. Tanner rolled under a swipe at his neck and dodged backward, so that Castor hacked the ground.
    That’s it, thought Tanner as Castor, breathing heavily, wiped the dirt from his blade. I’m faster than he is! I’ll tire him out!
    Tanner glimpsed Gwen in the crowd, surrounded by shouting women and children. Her face was creased with concern. Tanner was almost caught off guard as Castor charged at him. Tanner rolled and vaulted a low swing that almost caught his leg. He circled away again.
    â€œStand still!” Castor shouted, panting. “Fight like a man!”
    Castor feinted right — but he was slowing down. Tanner dodged Castor’s blow, knocked his sword down, and slashed at him, slicing through Castor’s tunic.
    He’s tiring. Tanner pressed in again. Castor blocked in fluid strokes and tried to push him back. But Tanner leaped around him, and as Castor spun, Tanner caught Castor’s sword from behind — the blades clanking and scraping — and Tanner pulled, trying to yank Castor’s weapon away. Castor strained against him, panting, his face slick with sweat.
    The roar of the crowd was deafening. They weren’t just cheering Castor’s name anymore; Tanner was drawing just as many cheers. People climbed onto ruined rooftops and children perched on women’s shoulders to get a better view.
    His face twisted with effort, Castor yanked his sword free. He yelled a battle cry as he leaped at Tanner.
    Tanner braced his feet wide and held his sword ready to meet Castor’s. The blow made his blade shake so violently it felt as if it might shatter. But Castor had landed awkwardly. Tanner shoved him backward, and as Castor stumbled, Tanner clashed his blade against the other boy’s. Castor fell to the ground. Tanner kicked his opponent’s sword away, put his boot on