A single droplet of sweat glistened in the sweltering heat and ran down Urganza’s temple. She slid her amber eyes sideways on the flamberge, stuck blade first into the ground. The heavy dire flail in her hand felt lighter compared to the overwhelming pressure she felt from the monstrous opponent before her. Her opponent, the Storm Lord, the voice of authority for the Stone-Cleaver orcs, considered her with golden eyes; the gaze of a cockatrice -- attempting to arrest her motion. Urganza felt her legs go numb, refusing to cooperate.

Urganza closed her eyes. A fatal mistake, if her opponent was anyone other than the Storm Lord. The Storm Lord would not attack her when she is vulnerable. He will make a show of her. Rain down his fury as blows, when she is at her peak. For him, a demonstration of his might is all that this duel is about. Strike an unprepared Urganza is detrimental to his plans.

Eyes shut tight, Urganza reminded herself of the reason for her fight. There is no plausible survival for the Stone-Cleaver orcs should she falter. Defeat the Storm Lord; the once chivalrous among the orcs and now seated on the throne of ignominy. Free her people from the whims of the One-Horned Warlord; pay her debts to me. And then, if she survived, she would seek out Syrune. At least that is the impression I got from watching her.

Urganza open her tightly shut eyes and braced herself. The next moment was forever etched inside my mind. Urganza stared at the Storm Lord. Her stare burned brighter than the brightest light. Like a morning sun rising above snow-covered mountains, Urganza gradually overcame the oppressive presence and rose to meet the challenge.

Standing at a distance from the wide enclosure for the designated duel, Lyria slowly rubbed my shoulder in assurance. She held her faith in Urganza and, more importantly, in me and in the period of fifteen days that we trained her together. Without the company of Maapu, who was left in Forge-wife Folly to train his newly acquired unit. Theko stood still and peered around the gathered crowd. He made no attempt to hide that he wished he were at Lyria’s forge instead.

Mesmerized, I felt myself fall in endless admiration as Urganza began tracing diagonal arcs -- up and down with well-practised motion. In acknowledgement, the Storm Lord planted his feet firmly and extended his arms. The curved blades of the huge war axe glanced seamlessly as he spun a wide arc. In comparison to the attempts of even the most competent warriors -- his posture seemed almost effortless, that I could scarcely believe that an orc could move with such grace. Another sign of his years of skilled practice.

With that, both the combatants acknowledged the challenge of the other and the duel began. The Storm Lord lunged forward, swinging his great war axe. His charge contained incredible power behind it, with an initial speed too quick to guage completely. Despite the heavy blade at the end, the Storm Lord wielded the axe with relative familiarity. Unlike, with the clumsy archaic weapons that the orcs favoured, the dire flail crafted by Lyria complemented Urganza perfectly. Urganza kicked the ground with her feet and allowed the momentum to help her propel towards the Storm Lord.

In a move that surprised me, Urganza spun with the fluidity of a dancer with rhythm, narrowly avoiding the swung axe. Reaching mid-height and with the same movement, Urganza let the violent spiked ball trace a concave curve towards the Storm Lord. Unprepared for the unexpected assault, the Storm Lord still managed to evade and turned himself around rapidly in response.

Against any common warrior, the dire flails are devastating bludgeoning weapons. Close range combatants feared it because of its unpredictable possibilities. Never have I seen a fortuitous survival from an opponent facing a dire flail. By the very nature of its construction, the dire flail promised to deliver a punishing blow on anything coming near it -- provided the opponent was not adept at spinning out of control during the course of the battle. The Storm Lord was adept at spinning out of control during the course of the battle.

The Storm Lord dodged; rolled forward, anticipating the trajectory of the spiked sphere. Still moving forwards, he planted the war axe for leverage to whip his leg round. Urganza twisted away hard enough from the thunderous kick aimed at her. Diving backwards, she created space for herself only to be invaded by the Storm Lord. And then they moved as one. The monstrous orc struck, gaining space and Urganza retreated.

Sensing Urganza’s fallback before his ferocity, the Storm Lord dared another large cleave. That was the moment, I trained Urganza for. She dipped her shoulder low and narrowly dodged the swinging axe swiftly enough with an agility honed through the past few days. Sacrificing all defenses, Urganza rushed towards the Storm Lord’s right flank where there was less space for him to manoeuvre. Surprised at being suddenly cornered, the Storm Lord reversed his grip for a back-handed swing. Bracing all her weight, Urganza used her refined offensive skill rather than the pure muscles as she let the heavy spiked ball fly -- not in a wide trajectory like a warrior but an elegant direct curve of an angler casting a loop.

Completely unhindered and efficiently swift, I heard the smash of the savage spiked sphere against the Storm Lord’s wrist. The haft of the two-handed axe, released from the irongrip flew aimlessly and buried itself half-blade deep in the ground behind Urganza.

I let a cheer at the sudden unexpected but welcomed turn of events. Urganza’s victory is now assured unless fate decided otherwise to bless her opponent with an enhanced boost of speed.

And fate did favour the Storm Lord.

Not having to lug the heavy two-handed axe, the Storm Lord sprinted forward with a demonic speed. Coming dangerously close to the exhilarated Urganza, he struck twice -- with his two fingers extended -- on her exposed neck; never in the same location. Cautioned by senses honed from years of skirmishes, Urganza regained composure fast and with frantic reflexes slid backwards; placing herself from the Storm Lord’s reach.

*****

“This is bad,” uttered Lyria, grimly. The muscles of her face pulled taut as the infuriated Lyria added, “Unarmed, orcs will punch or grapple. This is not their way of fighting.”

“That is the eldritch massage. Or rather, the orcish version of it.” I answered, thoughtfully. My brows knitted intently and slowly curved upwards. Lyria, who I thought kept her eyes peeled on Urganza still noticed my reaction.

“That is an arcane drow move,” spat Lyria in an accusatory tone, “Did you drows not guard your knowledge deeply? Especially those tactics that always lead to certain death!”

My heart accelerated, quickening beats shuddered me momentarily. Lyria’s words were all but a distant echo. Urganza cannot pull off the victory she deserves without a miracle. But there is the matter of the Storm Lord and the arcane skill. Not just practised but improvised.

“Lyria grab your weapon and be alert,” I half-stammered and half-whispered, “Irrespective of the outcome of this duel, a tumultuous wave of deceit awaits us.”

Lyria nodded without any reluctance and returned her focus to Urganza.

*****

Meanwhile, Urganza took some big strides backwards, avoiding the lethal strikes of the Storm Lord. Through clenched teeth, she first cried and soon enraged cussing followed invoking vicious grating laughter from the Storm Lord in return. Soon the audience joined their overlord.

Those amused voices provoked rage within me. I wished nothing more than to destroy the Storm Lord; succumb to savagery and mount his head on a pike. However, something told me that killing will get us nowhere. We are caught in the midst of a web within a web.

The Storm Lord leapt; an impossible aerial manoeuvre which threatened Urganza. Flailing desperately, Urganza stumbled backwards till she reached the end of the enclosure with no more space to retreat. The beads of perspiration glistening on her skin gave testament to the sheer deadly strain put upon her.

The Storm Lord stalked closer, reducing the short distance between them. An instant cold resolve showed in Urganza’s expression.

Much to the relief of Tharkas and Theko whose faces shone fiercely and with minimal footwork movements, Urganza spun -- like in our training sessions -- evaded the Storm Lord's lethal strike as he passed within a fingers width from her. With a maelstrom strength of a turbulent gale, she thrust her dire flail like a quarterstaff at his unprotected flank with reckless bravery and succeded in delivering a single brutal hit to the back of his skull.

Like a puppet whose strings were suddenly cut, the Storm Lord dropped amidst the reigning sudden silence.

Satisfaction gleamed on Urganza’s wide blinking amber eyes. Her eyelids fluttered as she swiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her thumb. All it took was a single piercing metal driven into his defenceless skull. Urganza still eyed the motionless body.

After a brief hiatus, Urganza quickly withdrew. The Storm Lord stirred. He blearily looked up; mud and dirt obstructed his clear vision but not his rage. He slowly rose while Urganza recoiled immediately. Urging himself to stand tall, he boldly lifted his mammoth slayer hand. Unintelligent growls resonated from his tusked mouth. His lips curled menacingly, revealing jagged yellow razor-like filed teeth. Shadows danced beyond him, foretelling the stormy retributions of his wrath.

My stratagem to defeat the Storm Lord was well laid out. Yet, it was the crucial overlooked flaw that the Storm Lord now exploited. For, if Urganza can change weapons during the duel, so can the Storm Lord.

In a disembodied voice, he roared. His summon was answered with a pair of clawed gauntlets thrown to him. Given the skill that he demonstrated with unarmed combat, those gauntlets spelt the doom for Urganza.