“Such poor manners. Do strangers not introduce themselves on Thanet? I am Soma Ordiae, Paragon of Spears.” He flipped the spear to point its tip at her. “I pray you know how to use that fine-looking great-ax?”

“It’s only my namesake,” Stasia said.

A grin spread across the man’s face, flashing pearl white teeth.

“My, my, I believe I’ve heard of you before. The Ax of Lahareed, am I right? You’ve been stirring up trouble for years now. I wonder, how worthy are you of your reputation? Or can any woman with an ax and a mask pretend to be you?”

Lahareed was ten years ago, yet another nation brought to heel by the empire. Stasia had thrown herself into its resistance, still young enough to believe she alone could be the difference between victory and defeat. She had slain hundreds, yet it mattered not. Her reputation, and the fear she inspired, had been but a stumbling block as the priests taught their faith, the native language warped, and the old gods faded away in death.

“There’s only one of me,” Stasia said. “And if you’re doubting, come find out.”

Much of it was bluster. A singular duel against a paragon was a death wish. Soma lowered his spear, and his body coiled.

“If you so politely insist.”

Clarissa’s scream marked the attack, for the man moved so fast, he was but a sapphire blur. Stasia swept her ax sideways, a defense against the chest-thrust her gut said he would make. Metal hit metal, her guess correct. Her ax bashed the tip of the spear aside. She twisted her body, legs bracing, and then smashed into him with her shoulder. Pain spiked throughout her body. He was armored, and stronger. The best she did was tilt him slightly onto his heels. Experience said to close the gap against the spear wielder, though, and so she tried. Her elbow shot for his face and missed. Her ax came back up and around, yet he easily parried the attack aside. His boot found her stomach, and she staggered.

Soma did not chase despite her vulnerability. Instead he twirled the spear and laughed while she retched for air.

“If this is the best you can muster, it says poor things about the quality of our soldiers you killed in Lahareed.”

Stasia exploded back into motion, hoping to catch him off guard. He dodged her first two wild swings, showing an agile grace unusual for one decked out in heavy plate. On the third, he caught her face with the butt of his spear. She cried out, using pain and anger to push forward. The paragon had shifted positions from the dodging, and at last she had the man where she wanted him. Planting her feet, she swung a long, looping arc aimed for his waist.