Kohl’s cheeks reddened as he grew increasingly frustrated by the agility of his older opponent. He quickly learned the cost of distraction. Ty’s sword slipped past the shield of the younger warrior and sliced through the swell of Kohl’s shoulder, drawing first blood.

The crowd crowed at the first successful strike, no matter how superficial it was. The battle was all to the throng, who knew that victory in the arena meant only certain death at the Tree. And so, entertainment and not empathy was the demand of the day. They watched with rapt anticipation as the younger warman gave ground, or rather, air.

Kohl urged his birdun downward to avoid the flurry of blows made freshly aggressive by the clamor of the crowd. Ty’s blade swished just above his head, and Kohl crouched low over the neck of his mount to make himself a smaller target. He kicked his birdun even harder as they hurtled directly for the dusty floor of the arena.

The beast’s hooves impacted the ground like a tremor while Kohl himself threw his entire body weight backward until he was prone along the beast’s back. Together, they rebounded from the ground and shot skyward, ascending directly into the blazing suns.

Kohl arched his back and craned his head to look behind and see Ty barrel beneath him. His birdun did the same, its long neck curving elegantly as they executed a stunning somersault in midair. Not surprisingly, the crowd cheered, their allegiance seemingly dictated by showmanship.

The duel now demanded the undivided attention of The Which. She marveled at the ingenuity and grace of the young warman as he and his steed flipped, literally, from pursued to pursuer.

She felt a flutter of hope.

Perhaps this common soldier possessed the cunning to conquer the Tree and harness the Dogs. But then she remembered that success at the Tree was more a matter of suitability than capability, since the soldier in question must certainly have been preordained by the Prophecy. This blood sport was merely an exercise in will, Xander’s frantic attempt to impose self-determination over destiny. And always at the cost of lives nobler than his.

Meanwhile, Kohl’s acrobatic tactic proved to be nothing more than a momentary flourish. Warman Ty, with his vast experience, was neither surprised nor subverted by the move. When he and his birdun hit the ground, Ty pulled back mightily in the other direction, twisting impossibly to come hard about-face.

They jolted back into the air, Ty now at the ready and facing Kohl as he emerged from his revolution. Warman Kohl barely had time to duck beneath what surely would have been a decapitating blow. Their birduns banked hard.

Nearly clear of the passing opponent, Kohl’s birdun stretched out its prehensile neck and sank its teeth hard into the haunch of the other birdun. Using the mouthful as a fulcrum, it executed a sharp right turn with one powerful flap of its wings.

Kohl found himself directly behind Warman Ty, and the young warman wasted no time. He lashed out with his sword and slashed a bloody furrow across the exposed back of his opponent.