Water drips in the quiet pooling between us.Very well. You request a duel? Then let us fight.
Air ripples around the creature, and when it settles, I blink in surprise. The Stallion is neither a man nor a terrifying beast. He is a child, on the cusp of adolescence.
He wears brown trousers and a thin white tunic. He stands with a relaxed posture, hands loose at his sides. A flop of pale hair falls across his brow. He is all bones, yet staring into his white eyes, I understand that I am quite young in comparison. For those eyes are old. They have seen things.
The kelpie pads forward on bare feet. “Are you frightened?” His attention rests slightly to the side of my face.
A trickle of sweat slithers down my neck. “Yes.”
The boy smiles. “Good.” His teeth are small and square. “You should be.”
Killing a kelpie is one thing, but a boy? I will not do it. I do not care if the Stallion merely wears a human skin. Somehow, I will have to gain Meirlach without slaying the beast.
I push off the wall to face the Stallion.
Tucking his hands at the small of his back, he begins to circle me. “Before we begin, let us discuss particulars. What treasure of mine do you seek?”
“Meirlach.”
He shakes his head, continues his circling. I turn, reflecting his movements. The last thing I want is to expose my back. Despite his lack of sight, I sense the boy would strike with precision. “Meirlach is not for the taking, I’m afraid, but you are free to select something else.” He flutters a small hand toward the eclectic display.
I readjust my grip on my dagger. Its leather wrapping clings to my damp glove. “I came here for Meirlach,” I state. “I will not leave without it.”
“Then you will not leave,” the Stallion cries, expression twisted in irritation.
Calm,I think. Yet my heart thunders with the knowledge that things are not unfolding as I imagined they would. “You said I could choose any object in your collection.” Round and round and round he goes.
“Any object,” he counters, “but Meirlach.”
“Why?”
“Because it is mine. That is reason enough.”
I swallow, squinting through the half-light in an attempt to locate the shining pommel of a sword. Mounds of treasure pile against the Grotto’s curved walls. A few precarious towers extend all the way to the stalactites overhead. “Do you fear I will beat you in a duel?” I dare ask.
Silence stretches and reforms around this statement, as if the Stallion considers the question from all angles. He stops, his arms crossed, mouth mulish. “It has been long since I have battled.”
If the Text has taught me anything, it’s that we are all born with equal potential. I am but kindling that has yet to burn.
“Don’t you tire of your loneliness?” I press. “Don’t you seek to connect to another, however briefly?”
The Stallion releases a crow-like laugh. “I have lived a thousand lifetimes, girl. What you offer is nothing I have not already experienced.”
“You seem certain. But I ask you this: what do you know of me aside from my mortality and faith? I may surprise you.”
There is a pause. “I cannot decide whether you are brave or merely foolish.” He shakes his head. “At the very least, you are entertaining. Very well. I will give you the opportunity to win Meirlach, Daughter of Thornbrook.” A sword appears in his childlike hand. The long, elegant blade pulses with an ethereal light. “Lovely, isn’t it?”
It is a weapon worthy of a song. The hilt has been shaped from gold. A ruby winks from the disk capping the pommel, and the guard, a collection of spiraling strips, shapes a protective sphere around the Stallion’s hand.
“If you draw first blood, the blade is yours.” The Stallion gives Meirlach a twirl. “However, if I draw first blood, you will climb onto my back and dwell within my Grotto forevermore.”
Never have I desired anything more than Meirlach in this moment, with the aftermath of recent betrayal roiling hot in my belly. I have the will. Of this, I am certain. But if the Stallion draws blood first, I am as good as dead.
Slowly, I raise my blade. He studies me with that adolescent face, those primordial eyes. In his mind, I am a child. Even when my body becomes dust, he will likely still be here, guarding his cache.
There is little I can do now. I’m committed. From the moment I stepped beyond Thornbrook’s walls, I vowed to return with the sword or die trying. I have trained for this. Besting the Stallion is but the last obstacle on this journey.
Planting my feet, I take stock of my opponent. His sword offers greater reach. A dagger, however, is the most versatile of weapons, a many-faced foe. What I lack in speed, I make up for in strength. Let him think me untried.
