“Patience can increase many strengths and cover for many weaknesses. Beware a patient warrior.” Unknown.

  Savrassa screamed and barreled towards Drakkill. Garassk got to his feet and stepped forward as well, hissing menacingly to add to the effect. The knight stood his ground for a brief moment before realizing what he was up against and jumping away. Garassk swung his tail in Drakkill’s direction. The sound of metal buckling felt like music to his ears. He turned to see Drakkill clutch near his torso.

  A thunderous roar interrupted the battle. All heads turned toward the temple.

  “Rathorn,” Garassk muttered. If he listened closer, he could hear faint sounds of battle, but it was impossible to tell who was winning.

  Drakkill interrupted his thoughts by taking a swing. He narrowly dodged it. Drakkill swung again. His movements were frenzied and quick. Garassk blocked what few blows he could, but the force of them made it feel safer to dodge instead, something he barely managed to do most of the time. Savrassa’s attempts to join the fray amounted to little. He knew they needed to regroup, but Drakkill was doing everything he could to stop that from happening.

  They finally found an opening when Drakkill turned at an angle that exposed his side to Savrassa. She drove her spear toward the gap between the plates near his arms, her spear biting into his armpit. Drakkill screamed in pain, and stopped where he stood. Garassk struck him in the head with the hilt of his sword. Drakkill dropped his halberd and clutched for his helmet.

  Savrassa shrieked and jumped up from behind Drakkill and brandished a dagger. Garassk swung his sword at Drakkill’s legs, slamming against his knee. He then grabbed the discarded halberd. Savrassa brought her dagger down, but mostly just hit metal. She occasionally found soft flesh. Blood seeped down his armor, sullying the white metal. Drakkill writhed and thrashed as she attacked, making it harder for Garassk to spot a chance to attack.

  “Enough!” Drakkill shouted, grabbing Savrassa from over his shoulders and throwing her to the ground. “This… ends… NOW!”

  He drew the sword at his hip and snarled. Garassk charged forward and swung the halberd at Drakkill, who deflected the blow. He dodged the next few, only occasionally staggering from his wounds. Garassk was not used to using the weapon, and his strikes were unwieldy, but he could still tell that Drakkill feared what he could do with it.

  Savrassa jabbed at his legs, glancing off the metal plates, but also diverting his attention. Drakkill lashed out at her, buying Garassk the time to try and figure out where to strike next. Savrassa eventually managed to pierce into his heel, while Garassk slammed the hammer down on the knight’s helm. A second blow shattered the helmet, forcing Drakkill to throw it aside. He swung around and bashed the pommel of his own sword against Garassk’s jaw, grabbed him by the throat, and threw him away.

  Garassk got up to his feet in time to see a face of pure burning hatred glaring at him. Victor Drakkill had short dark hair atop his head, and stubble around his lower jaw. What really made him stand out was his eyes. They blazed with a fury that made Garassk feel small just by looking at him.

  He raised the halberd again to crush the man’s skull.

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  “NO!” Drakkill screamed, lunging forward and pushing him. Garassk lost his grip on the halberd and struggled to pry Drakkill loose. Drakkill threw him to the ground, and pinned him down, drawing a dagger. Garassk continued to struggle, but Drakkill tightened his grip with one hand, and thrust his dagger down in the other. It narrowly missed Garassk’s neck several times, but drew blood from shallow cuts after a few tries, making him panic.

  “Just relax,” Drakkill whispered. “This will all be over soon.”

  Garassk hissed and continued to struggle to no avail.

  “Do you know that my ancestors hunted dragons?” the knight sneered, tightening his grip further. “Drake-killer, they called them. That’s where my name comes from. I may not have any dragons to kill right now, but you’ll do nicely.”

  He finally managed to press the tip of his dagger to Garassk’s throat. Garassk let out one final defiant snarl before bracing himself for the end.

  Neither of them were prepared when the crossbow bolt tore into Drakkill’s shoulder. The pauldrons kept it from doing any damage, but it startled them all the same.

  “What the…?” Drakkill said, loosening his grip and looking toward the ruins.

  Garassk seized his chance and clawed right at the knight’s face. Drakkill shouted and reached for the wound, allowing Garassk to kick the knight off of him and get back on his feet. He drew his sword and charged forward.

  Drakkill grabbed his blade again and parried the blow. After all of the blows that Garassk had landed before, Drakkill had gone from invincible to highly-skilled. He parried every blow and showed no signs of slowing down. Garassk occasionally noticed Savrassa in the background, but he didn’t have time to figure out if she was waiting for the perfect time to strike, or had just given up on fighting.

  Garassk finally tried to stomp on Drakkill’s foot and break his knee with his sword’s pommel. Drakkill responded by grabbing his leg and pulling at it, sending him to the ground. Garassk tried to roll away to escape the barrage of kicks Drakkill rained down on him, but to no avail. One final kick sent him against a tree stump and stopped him in his tracks.

  “Now die!” Drakkill hissed, raising his sword.

  Hearing a click and a whistle was the only thing that kept Garassk from closing his eyes and bracing for death. Seconds later, Rathorn’s bolt punched through Drakkill’s armor and pierced his armpit. The man staggered from the blow and cursed the air. Savrassa jumped forward and plunged her spear into his side.

  “Gah!” Drakkill fell to his knees. Still clutching his sword, he lurched toward Savrassa, but he was finally slowing. She drew her dagger and prepared to go for a killing blow, but Drakkill wasn’t ready to accept defeat. He caught her wrist, stole the weapon, and threw her to the ground. Savrassa scratched his face and rolled away. Drakkill dropped the dagger and took up his sword again.

  “Come on, then,” Drakkill shouted. “Which one of you bastards wants to go first? I won’t yield to either of you. Come up and get this over with!”

  Garassk forced himself back on his feet and sauntered forward. Drakkill turned at the sound of his footsteps and braced for a fight.

  “It’s over,” Garassk said. “You’re in no shape to keep going.”

  “Nor will I surrender,” Drakkill spat. “So come and finish it, if you have the nerve.”

  Drakkill limped toward him and swung his sword. Garassk jumped away and waited for the knight to tire himself out. Once he’d slowed down enough, Garassk went on the offensive. Drakkill barely parried when Garassk swung for him. The second strike threw his sword from his hands. Drakkill turned toward the blade as it sailed through the air, and then turned back to Garassk. The mask of contempt never slipped from his face.

  Garassk raised his blade and swung for a third time. A red wave sailed through the air as Drakkill’s head rolled away. As the knight sank to the ground, Garassk finally relaxed. The fight was over. They were safe.