"Your weakness?"
The half-breed rushed at him jut as his own feet started pounding, her blade thrusting and twisting towards his stomach. Razkar had to forcibly remind himself this was meant to be a friendly sparring session, and he slid to his right and slashed down and to the side with his ax, knocking the sword away and trapping it in the hook of its head. But she was too quick for him again, strong and nimble into the bargain, twisting and spinning until his arm was forced low and the blade was released.
They circled again, wariness beginning to creep into both of their movements.
"Your words only proved that it was I that was weak. Why do you think I was so angry?"
Razkar felt his jaw drop open in surprise, but there was more anger to it than shock. Weakness? That was what she saw in herself?! How could anyone be so stupid?! But some small, mostly-ignored voice told him that he was one male screaming in a hurricane born of females. Razkar saw her worth, her ability, the stroke of sheer genius that using the dogs truly was. But it did not matter to the rest, Ioxera and Rehkuna and Zuran or Oxil and the others of that day. No matter what, she would always be a half-snake.
Razkar felt the injustice of it choke him and lunged forwards again, losing himself to that same anger he had warned others against so many times. He stroke was so simple that a child could have blocked it, and she did... with her hilt, rather than the blade itself. But there was enough force behind it to make her wince and switch hands, circling him again as she shook the pain out of her arm.
"If you were a female, eagle, you would be the leader of your fang in a heart beat, Myri's pride and joy. Do you ever consider that? You are ruthless, vicious, yet clever. I would say you are like a snake...but it is why I called you eagle upon that first day. An eagle is a symbol of honor and bravery, yet you think I use it as insult, do you not?"
There was a long silence in the dead arena. The ghosts paused and held their breath, watching the panting figures, the sweating female and the glaring male. Razkar wanted to deny her words, to throw them back at her as lies and nonsense... but she was right. The Children of Myri as female-dominated, and always would be. In other lands, Razkar thought (or had he dreamed?) that his abilities would have been elevated to a fang leader by now, perhaps even more. But he was destined always to follow, never to truly lead. The females would always command, always look down on him...
He gritted his teeth and gripped his ax harder as he felt years of resentment flow through him, bitterness and rejection shining in his black eyes. The ghosts seemed to sense it, howling silently in joy as they recognized a killing rage.
But her last words stilled it.
"I..." He began, finally finding some tempo with his heartbeat and his breathing. The ax was heavier than his gladius, and already his arm was tingling. "I never thought you insulted me."
He wanted to say more. But he did not. Wanted to tell her that he was... honored. That a female, even a half-breed, would regard him with such respect based solely on his actions, not what he had or didn't have between his legs. That his beautiful, wonderful, beloved Aya had opened his eyes about the dangerous, forced ignorance the Myrians lived under, and that it made it so hard for capable, dedicated and gods-damn-it loyal warriors like Tinnok to rise.
If she was ever caught by the Ancient Enemy, he though with silent horror, they would make her death last seasons. A traitor's death. And none here would mourn her save her clan... and still she fights.
Razkar let out a long, ragged sigh, head bowed. When he looked up again, there was a strange, soft smile on his sweaty face. Sadness, perhaps, but also a resignation to the way things were. Their world was harsh and rigid and often even hypocritical... but they were warriors and they would lay down their lives for it.
Warriors fought, and they endured. But they also had to suffer and sacrifice. This was theirs.
"Come forth, wolf."
That she did and, as the poets would say, verily. One hand behind her like a barbarian fencer, she slashed out at him with the long, curved blade, learning some control now even with her tired limbs. Razkar instantly regretted switching to the ax, the shorter weapon denying him any chance to get close to her. He knocked the sword away but she kept it momentum spinning back towards him again and again, whereas the ax had no such aerodynamic subtlety.
That and it was designed really to be a secondary weapon, or a striker; his other hand was meant to be filled with another weapon, but he had none. Razkar was forced to use his other hand to jab and punch but Tinnok was growing wise to his tricks. He knocked her blade wide and went for another bursting punch, exploding forwards towards her chest as he stepped forward, and she twisted her body to the side, his punch sailing past her-
-and her knee jerking up to catch him square in the chest.
Razkar rolled around it, spinning, pain and disorientation throwing him completely off. He just managed to see the pillar he was heading towards, hit it and let his body roll over it, feet hitting the ground at the same time on the other side.
With the lithe ease of an acrobat (if one that now needed one hand to lever her tired form upwards), she jumped up onto the pillar and stood over him, scimitar leveled.
Razkar smirked and nodded his appreciation for her progress. He made sure the feeling was plain on his face, too. He wanted her to see that there was no grudging respect in his eyes, the kind she had seen so many times before from peers and superiors. The kind that said "well, it was well struck, but you're still just a petching abomination."
"We have traded words long enough, wolf," he said with a wry grin, then switched his hand ax to his free hand, cracked his neck left-right with two sharp movements that sounded like branches snapping, sound echoing throughout the dry stones. "And I will forget none of what you have said."
He bowed slightly, and gave her the best compliment he could think of at that moment.
"My love is lucky to have such a loyal friend."
He waited for her yellow eyes to blink and then charged forward with a hoarse cry, determined to go out with a bang as he swung at her legs, already jumping up to meet her on the pillar.
