“Then it begins.”

Gilseth’ir is his opponent. The Scourge of the Mesmir.

Haldred readies his blade and charges the Scourge, answering his opponent’s words with a first slash of his left short sword.

Gilseth is massive, his size belying his speed, and he seems to disappear before Haldred’s first blow, pivoting on one enormous foot to make himself a smaller target. He chuckles a deep, rumbling laugh and Haldred can hear the whistle of a blade through air as Firebrand sails toward him in a plunging arc, aimed at one of his legs. He barely stumbles backward in time, only just deflecting the quickly following uppercut of the blade.

Win… I have to win, he thinks.

This duel, this single fight decides the fate of all his brothers and sisters in the Ha’ak’til ranks behind him. They’re counting on him. The fate of his entire country, his family, so many families… rests on his shoulders.

Another blow slams into the ground next to him and yanks him out of his thoughts. He throws himself in a roll to the side and comes up, swords ready in his hands, and growls out a warning to the giant.

You fall today, he thinks.

Quick and light as the giant is on his feet, Haldred is quicker and lighter. In two steps, the warrior is inside the guard of the Scourge and a slash with one sword elicits a grunt as it finds its mark. The next strike is deeper and the cry of the giant echoes into the mountains nearby. Gilseth steps back and brings his Firebrand down in another sweeping arc, but instead of trying to parry or deflect, Haldred rolls forward, just under the blade, and between the giant’s feet, opening another gash on Gilseth’s thigh.

Another roar shakes the air and Gilseth whirls, letting Firebrand ride out in yet another deadly arc, barely missing Haldred’s chest with the point of the blade.

Haldred lets out a quick breath and finds the eyes of the Scourge as the monster pursues him, all rage and fury now. Their blades ring as thrusts and cuts and sweeps are traded between them. But giant’s eyes… Haldred fears the eyes of the Scourge more than his named blade.

A cutting sweep downward. The eyes are without mercy. A sweep to the side. They are without care. A thrust. They hold no soul.

On the defensive with no way out—

Haldred cries out as Firebrand, sword of Gilseth’ir, plunges into his stomach, up to the hilt. His own swords fall from his grasp and his face screws up in a grimace as the giant roars again, this time in triumph, and hoists his prey up into the sky, still skewered on his sword.

When he finally falls to the ground, when the sword is finally drawn from him, Haldred lies, eyes open, to see his people charge. They are on their way to avenge him. And to decide their own fates.

The Ha’ak’til will not fall because of his failure.

They will rise again, stronger than ever, in his name.

They will rise. And claim their fate.

They rise.

To victory.