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  Chapter 29

  For all the hits Einari had landed, his opponent's armour didn't even show any dents. His own was resistant to most strikes, but not to that degree. Almost completely impervious, his opponent’s had few weak spots. A fine chain weave hung over the joints, with a gorget protecting his neck.

  At least he had the grace to be clumsy. He'd yet to land one decent blow on Einari, although his shield had taken damage. The glyphs on his war axe didn't make it as sharp as Einari's sword – from the damage it had done to his shield, it would take a while to pierce Einari's armour.

  Defence wasn't Einari’s concern, though. He needed to beat this opponent. He'd missed opportunities to fight during his hunt, and there were barely a few weeks until the finals in Volthus, in which he was determined to compete.

  He'd had fights since the unsatisfactory end of the hunt, and needed only a couple more. Not a problem. The focus he was managing could be.

  He was irritated by the failure, the first he'd suffered. He knew it shouldn't bother him. They were locked up, and having them face justice was the important thing. To the Society, recovering the stolen goods may be equally important, but to him catching the thieves took priority. Even if they weren't locked up for the right crime, at least they could no longer prey on innocents.

  Dancing away from another ponderous slash, he barely let it pass before darting in. He knocked his opponent’s arms to maintain the swing's momentum. Slamming his sword’s pommel on his opponent's helm, he ducked away.

  The man staggered, so the vibrations had echoed through even if the armour showed no damage. Could he use that? He'd have to.

  He ran through a few strategies, finding it hard to muster enthusiasm. He didn't feel like putting on a show. He just wanted this done.

  He stood there as his opponent advanced. The man was justifiably wary, and stuck to a cautious swing. It was no harder to dodge than his earlier attempts. The war axe snapped back to follow him, but Einari ducked around his opponent's back, slashing at his knee. He hit with a solid clang, and the man stumbled.

  He didn't fall. Einari hadn't expected he would. The moment he took to regain his balance was all that was needed.

  Einari twisted with his shield blocking the man's view as he thrust his sword as deep into the arena ground as it would go, at as steep an angle. Spinning around the man's side, he got behind him and charged with his shield. He hit his turning opponent, and his weight added to the man's lack of balance to trip him on the grounded sword, toppling him face down.

  Keeping his feet, Einari followed him down in a controlled manner, coming to sit on his opponent's back. Satisfied he was secure, able to stop his opponent rising – which may not even be possible in that armour – he let himself relax.

  'Submit?' he asked.

  His opponent struggled a while before reluctantly acceding to the inevitable.

  Rising, Einari helped his opponent up, retrieved his sword, and left the arena. He paid little attention to the applause of the crowd. It had never meant much to him before, but he usually saw it as good for the Society that their champion was doing well. It was for the Society's prestige he was determined to win the Tournament.

  Yet he felt wrong taking part, and wasn't sure why. Because he felt he'd failed his mission? Possibly. Not that there was anything he could do about it. He needed to work out of it somehow, to focus on the Tournament. In the finals he'd face stronger opponents than he had so far.

  He'd barely left the stadium when the Society messenger found him, handing him a sealed message. He gave a surreptitious scan for eavesdroppers before touching the sealing glyph and speaking his pass phrase. The glyph faded, and he opened the missive.

  It must be from whoever’d sent the earlier message, and was equally anonymous. As he read, his other concerns faded. They'd escaped. They'd actually escaped Firepeaks. Leaving devastation in their wake. And he was to stop them.

  He felt buoyed by the opportunity to make up for his failure, to capture them. No, capturing them didn't do much good. They may be held more securely next time but could he risk it, even for the chance to recover the arvinim? It had likely been sold on, anyway.

  If they came quietly, he'd take them. If they resisted, or caused further chaos, he'd ensure they couldn't do so again. Peace was more important than a couple of bars of metal, no matter their value.

  And justice was more important than championing the Society in the Tournament. He could probably find arenas during his hunt, so he'd carry on where he could, or where he had no active leads. But the hunt was the important thing. The thing which made him feel he was doing right, making the world safer. It gave satisfaction the empty fights in the arena never could, and he'd fight the just fight until his end.