Page 86 of The Champion

Stryder ached to curse fate again. How could Henry have done this to him?

“We were friends once, you and I.”

“And now we are enemies. It’s strange how things turn out, isn’t it?” Damien reached for his sword.

“I don’t consider you my enemy.”

Damien tossed Stryder the other sword. “Then you’re a fool and quite deserving of your death.”

At the same instant Stryder caught his sword, Damien lunged at him. Stryder barely had time to parry the thrust and spin away from him.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Damien. I’ve no desire to see anymore pain placed upon your shoulders.”

Damien roared as he attacked with the fury and power of ten men.

Stryder had to actually work to keep the knight from hurting him. A true rarity. Damien had studied much during the years since they had been friends. Back in those days, the boy had been free-spirited and fun-loving.

His parents’ youngest child, Damien had been doted on by both of them, as well as his older sister, Alix.

Even though barely a year separated their ages, Stryder had always thought of him as a young brother in need of protection.

But the man before him was nothing like the boy he’d known. This Damien was angry and bitter. His rage glittered like ice in the greenish-gold depths of his eyes that glared out at Stryder from the slits in Damien’s helm.

Stryder had no idea what the Saracens had done to Damien, but it was obvious they hadn’t just held him kindly for ransom, as Damien had said they would.

Damien kicked at Stryder’s leg, then slashed at his head.

Stryder barely dodged the killing blow.

Damien dropped his sword, grabbed him by his surcoat and slung him into the low railing that segregated their area from the spectators.

Stryder let go of his own sword as they fought hand to hand. It was obvious this wasn’t the combat Henry had intended. To Damien it was personal.

And it made Stryder’s heart ache. He’d tried many times to speak to his old friend over the past few years, only to have Damien’s men refuse.

“I never meant for you to be hurt,” Stryder said.

Damien growled low and deep like an animal in pain before he slammed his fist down on his shoulder.

Stryder took the blow without flinching.

“Don’t you dare be sanctimonious with me, you bastard. I promise you I’m not leaving this field until I bathe in your blood.”

“Is that what you want?” Stryder dodged another blow. “Is that what it’ll take to set the past right again?” He pulled his helm from his head and stared at his friend. “I still consider you my brother, Damien.”

Damien backhanded him across the face.

Stryder staggered back as he tasted the blood on his lips. Licking the metallic taste, he righted himself.

“Fight me, damn you.”

Stryder shook his head. “I don’t wish to fight you.”

Damien cocked his head at that, then turned to retrieve his sword. When he again faced Stryder, the coldness of his gaze chilled him.

“Very well then,” Damien said. “But before I kill you and you go down in the scribe’s rolls as a convicted murderer, allow me to tell you one thing.”

“And that is?”