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stretched out before him, the woods wide, their branches intertwined along the top canopy.
    “This is no game,” Haern whispered, his body an inch behind Harruq’s. The half-orc startled, then blushed red with anger and embarrassment.
    “You said you’d be waiting for me out here,” he said.
    “Do you always expect people to be where they say they will?”
    “Only those not trying to kill me,” he grumbled.
    Haern approached the forest, pulling his hood lower on his face. “The most deadly are the ones you think wish you no harm,” he whispered.
    “Yeah, yeah,” Harruq said, motioning with his two swords. “Aren’t you all smart. So we going to fight or what?”
    The assassin’s hands emerged from within his cloaks, his sabers drawn and ready.
    “Have you ever been beaten before?” he asked.
    “Of course not. Would I still be alive if I had?”
    Haern’s saber was on his throat before he could move.
    “Yes,” the assassin whispered, his breath warm on the half-orc’s ear. “Because I have beaten you, yet you still live.”
    He turned away, blatantly putting his back to the furious half-orc. Harruq’s temper flared. Roaring, he charged. Condemnation and Salvation hungered in his hands. Haern waited until the half-orc was almost to him before leaping into the air, high above Harruq’s head. His knees curled to his chest as he looped around. When he landed, both his sabers stabbed forward, jabbing into armor without penetrating.
    “Your hatred gives you strength, but it renders you stupid,” he whispered from underneath his hood. An elbow shot back, trying to smash the assassin’s nose. It caught air instead. Haern ducked underneath, spun on his feet, and froze, his sabers once again resting on Harruq’s throat.
    “When I ask you something, I want a real answer, not some cocky bullshit,” he said through clenched teeth. “Do you understand me? Now have you ever been beaten?”
    “Yeah,” Harruq said, his hate still churning like a trapped fire. “Just once, to an elf.”
    “What was his name?”
    “I don’t know! He had the strangest weapon I ever saw. It was a bow with blades along every which way.”
    Haern stepped back, his sabers vanishing beneath his cloaks once more.
    “Dieredon? You fought Dieredon and lived?”
    Harruq shrugged. “Guess I have.”
    A soft chuckle escaped the assassin. “You have fought one of the very best there is, half-orc. Your swords never came close, did they?”
    “He ambushed me,” the half-orc countered. “Wasn’t a fair fight.”
    “Of course he ambushed you,” Haern whispered, slowly shifting his body left and right, his cloaks swaying. “An intelligent fighter doesn’t give his opponent a fair chance. You think it fair you have the muscles of an ox while your other foes are mere mortals?” His movements picked up speed. Haern’s cloaks whipped back and forth through the air.
    “What the abyss is your problem?” Harruq shouted.
    “You!”
    Haern leapt, his body rotating at blinding speed. Cloaks whipped up and down. Harruq brought up his swords to block but had no clue where the assassin’s sabers were. Instinctively, he crossed them and braced his legs. One saber slid over the top, nicking his chin. When the mass of gray landed, the other saber cut upward, separating the two swords. The first, still high in the air, sliced straight back down, between the small opening the other had created, then thrust forward, unblocked.
    Harruq stood there, swords shaking in his hands, as the tip pressed against his throat. A drop of blood trickled down his neck.
    “Why did you bring me out here?” he asked. “To humiliate me?”
    “So you may survive,” Haern replied. “Your strength is great, and your speed decent, but you are reckless. All your attacks are obvious, beginner routines.”
    “I don’t need to listen to this.”
    “You will listen!” The assassin’s leg snapped forward, smashing his foot against Harruq’s groin. The half-orc