“Why did you bring me out here?” he asked. “To humiliate me?”

“So you may survive,” Haern replied. “Your strength is great, and your speed decent, but you are reckless. All your attacks are obvious, beginner routines.”

“I don’t need to listen to this.”

“You will listen!” The assassin’s leg snapped forward, smashing his foot against Harruq’s groin. The half-orc dropped to his knees. Haern bent down, grabbed him by the hair, and yanked his head back so that he stared straight into his burning blue eyes.

“We are to be a team,” he whispered. “We must trust each other. You’ve seen, and felt, what I can do. I have fought impossible odds, and I have escaped without a scratch. You possess greater strength than most alive, and ancient blades from a time long past, and you act as if these alone will grant you victory. It is arrogance, Harruq Tun, nothing more.”

“Go burn in the abyss,” Harruq spat. Haern’s kick broke his nose. He continued whispering as the half-orc moaned.

“I consider my point proven. I am the greater fighter, half-orc. I do not possess greater strength. My blades do not contain the magic yours do. I have spent a lifetime in training, and I have learned from those better than me.” He chuckled softly. “My very first master broke my nose on our opening day of practice. I guess I have passed on that tradition.”

Harruq struggled into a sitting position, glaring at the assassin as blood ran down his lips and neck. Haern tossed him a white rag. Neither spoke as he cleaned himself, then held the rag to his nose. The morning dew vanished as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

“Are you ready to listen?” Haern asked. The half-orc nodded. “Good. I hold no anger against you, so hold none against me. It will simply lengthen things. Go inside and ask Delysia for a healing spell. Then, if you are willing, come back outside. I’ll be here.”

“In the open?” Harruq asked.