Chapitre Seize

Colère

Leon

"Marc?" Leon shook his head in confusion. What was Magnus' older brother doing here?

"Leon," Marc droned. He placed his hand on the hilt of his saber. "You discovered that my younger brother broke confidence with you. As is lawful, you challenged him to a duel. Need I remind you that per the law another member of his family may take his place as his champion?"

Leon's eyes widened and he stepped back. "You're here to fight on his behalf?" Leon felt his blood surge. His challenge had been born in confidence. Dozens of wins over Magnus had fortified his reserve. How had it slipped his mind that Magnus could have a champion stand in for him, just as Leon had stepped in for Andre? His father had rightfully warned of the folly of passion in battle. Suddenly, he found himself bested by passion from the outset.

Marc was a mountain if Leon was a tree. His height was intimidating and his girth, daunting. Larger than Magnus, his battle scars proved he was even more weather-worn and battle-tested than his brother. This was an opponent Leon was almost certain he could not defeat.

"I... I'm here to offer a truce," said Leon. A murmur went through the crowd, with some people voicing approval and others disappointment that there wouldn't be a fight today. "M-Magnus has... betrayed me... b-but I've thought a lot about it... and I'm willing to forgive."

The crowd gave a soft cheer. Leon didn't dare look at them, lest they see the fear in his eyes.

Marc sneered. "You only offer this truce now because you are a coward!" The crowd immediately went silent. Marc drew his saber and pointed it at Leon. "A loathsome coward! Worms have more spine than you! My brother begged your forgiveness, but you instead challenged him to this duel and promised that he would die!" Marc clenched his fists tightly, one around the hilt of his sword. The muscles in his forearms visibly tightened, reminding Leon that this man was an absolute brute. "Well, if you wish to spill a Forbin's blood it must be mine. I reject your truce, Leon! Draw your sword!"

"There is no need for this!" Leon protested. Even as he said it he could hear members of the crowd laughing at or booing him. He glanced back at his father, but Lucien just stared at Marc with wide eyes and a pale face.

"You cannot back down now!" said Marc. "Not simply because a more dangerous opponent stands before you. My brother always spoke of you as a man of honor, a man of courage. He said you had the heart of a soldier. If you turn away now, it just proves that your deception is far worse than his ever was!"

The crowd hooted and groaned at the mockery. Leon looked to his father again, but his father only stared on in horror. How much would it set his father back in Le Jeu Fatal if Leon were to refuse to duel? How much would this humiliate the Renart family? Would anyone take them seriously again after this?

Leon turned his eyes back to Marc. The soldier's nostrils flared. His face was red with rage, and his lips curled up in a snarl. Everything about the man stood as a testament to murderous intent.

"A soldier must keep his temper, lest he make a mistake."

Of course!

Could Leon afford to hope that this seasoned soldier had forgotten such a basic lesson on behalf of his brother's safety and honor? Marc's fury would make him stronger, but it would also make him more reckless.

Could Leon take advantage of that?

Did he have any hope of victory?

Leon drew his saber.

The crowd erupted, still audibly mixed with groans of worry and squeals of excitement.

Normal duel etiquette was for the two duelists to exchange weapons and inspect them for any tricks or defects, thus ensuring fairness. Leon stepped forward to do just that.

To his surprise, however, Marc charged at him and thrust his saber. Leon leapt out of the way and stumbled.

He had not even a moment to catch his breath before the great brute was on him again. The blade slashed out at Leon in a wide arc. Leon ducked and parried the blow. The force nearly knocked him off his feet.

Riposte! With what little footing Leon could muster he pushed off the concrete path and thrust at his opponent. Marc's slash had been so wide that he barely had time to deflect Leon's blade from his mid-section.

The blade caught Marc under his arm. His shirt tore and blood stained the fabric.

But the wound barely seemed to faze the soldier.

He brought his saber down at Leon's head, and Leon raised his own blade to block it.

This proved to be the wrong choice. Marc beat Leon's sword, each blow causing Leon to lose more and more of his footing. His left foot slid out from under him. His opponent took advantage of the slip-up with a flurry of stabs. Leon could not dodge, but he parried each one as best he could.

A blow to his shoulder.

A blow to his bicep.

A cut across his cheek.

He could not survive this onslaught for long.

Leon rolled backward and sprang to his feet.

Marc was after him again before he'd even gotten up.

Leon parried, stepped to the side, and tripped Marc as he charged.

Marc staggered and stumbled, big man that he was, but managed to stay on his feet.

Nonetheless, his back was exposed.

Leon stabbed Marc just under his right shoulder-blade.

The sword pierced Marc's flesh, but did not go as deeply as Leon was expecting. The muscles provided too much resistance, and the saber bent before more than the tip of the blade had pierced Leon's foe.

That should have been a killing blow. How was Leon to defeat this man if he could not strike him through the heart?

No time to think of a solution. Marc rounded on him again and slashed out at his midsection.

Parried.

A remise. Marc followed his unsuccessful attack with another slash.

Parried again.

There wasn't anywhere near as much force behind his blows as there had been before.

"Calmly, and with purpose."

The heat of Marc's rage had subsided. He was fighting like a disciplined soldier now, and Leon found himself constantly on the defensive. Every thrust, remise, riposte, and lunge left Leon not even a moment to strike back.

I'm going to die...

Leon needed to think of something, but his heart pounded with fear, drowning out all his thoughts.

He caught Marc's blade on the ricasso of his own, just above the hand-guard and pushed back against him, hoping to make him lose footing.

No good. Marc was many times stronger than he was and pushed him back.

Leon staggered backwards, but managed to stay on his feet.

He had expected Marc to charge at him like a raging bull, as he had many times before. To his surprise, Marc advanced on him slowly, conserving his energy.

This was the true Jeu Fatal, not the silly games his father played.

Then again, if that was true maybe he needed to learn to play it the way his father did.

"You must be anxious to silence me," said Leon, digging in his heels and preparing for their next bout. "Since I know your brother's secret."

A thrust from Marc. Leon parried.

Riposte.

Marc parried Leon's counter-attack.

Leon smirked. "His affair with a barbarian whore."

Parried.

"Be a shame if that got out!"

Marc looked at him with confusion for a second, but the murmuring from the crowd soon turned his confusion to anger.

Leon took the offensive this time with a feint. Just as Marc went to defend a blow meant for his head Leon curved his blade around and cut Marc's thigh.

He continued his taunt. "He confided in me his love for her. He's a traitor to all of Salia! It's why I couldn't wait to kill him!"

Marc roared and lunged at Leon again.

Leon parried and stepped to one side.

Riposte! His saber cut the soldier's flank. More blood stained his shirt.

Marc thrust at Leon again, his sword aimed at Leon's face. Leon dodged his head to one side and went to parry the attack.

It was a feint, and it had almost succeeded. Marc's blade pierced Leon's chest, just inside his left shoulder.

The blade went deep. Leon cried out and dropped to one knee.

An opening.

The soldier's blade was too deep in Leon's body for him to defend himself, so Leon pushed his blade up under Marc's armpit.

Marc shrieked in pain and his right arm went limp, letting go of his sword in the process.

Leon twisted and yanked the blade from under Marc's arm. A stream of red followed.

As Marc staggered and cried in pain, Leon forced himself to his feet again.

A new sensation filled Leon's heart. Not rage, nor fear. No joy in it, nor sorrow. He felt nothing, nothing at all. It was as if in that moment his heart was empty.

Was this what his father meant when he said "Calm and with purpose?"

Marc reached for his sword, which was still stuck in Leon's chest, but Leon slashed the soldier's left wrist.

Leon grabbed the hilt of Marc's saber and slid it out of his own body. The pain was excruciating, but Leon barely flinched

With a sword in either hand and blood soaking his arms, Leon advanced on his opponent.

Marc could no longer lift his right arm, and the blood pouring from his wrist already made his head bob and his eyes roll back. The Forbin fell to his knees.

Leon looked down into those exhausted eyes. Marc had lost so much blood that he could barely stay conscious anymore.

Good, because Leon felt dizzy himself. If he didn't want this brutish man coming after him again he needed to end this now.

With one swift stroke Leon slashed Marc across the throat.

With another he cut him across the forehead.

With one more he pushed his sword as deep into Marc's chest as he could, hoping the blade would reach his heart.

But Leon never saw if the blade went deep enough. No sooner had the saber pierced Marc's chest than Leon saw the whole world do a cartwheel around him. He found himself facing the sky, and tumbling away from it.

The impossibly far away voice of his father echoed a warbling call of his name.

One last sharp pain slammed through his brain, causing a flash of color from behind his eyes as the rest of the world fell dark.