Chapter Sixteen

"Oh what the actual fuck," Will grumbled beneath his breath, as he glanced over at Silversmith. "Is this guy for real?"

"Capparelli! Do you accept or are you just as much of a coward as your father was?" Nathan snarled, clearly trying to get Will's temper up.

"Hey!" Will said suddenly, pointing the younger werewolf's direction. "How about you sit the fuck down and give me half a goddamned second to figure out what's going on and what this is all about, so I can make an educated decision about it?"

The young man looked both angry and confused by the request. "...No? I mean, you're being challenged to a duel. Either you fucking accept, or you don't. What's to figure out? You even saw one less than an hour ago, so you know the goddamn format!"

"Give me! A fucking! MINUTE!" Will shouted, his voice turning into a bit of a growl before the inflection of his voice backed off from the harshness it had taken on. He glanced at his fist that he'd just slammed on top of the table and saw it reverting from a werewolf form to a normal human arm, the metal tabletop dented inward. Will could feel that sense of rage bubbling up beneath his surface, like it would only take the slightest push for that feral side to come barreling out of him. "I swear to God, one minute I'm being told I've been given a Sanctuary, and my very life is being threatened ten minutes later! Doesn't that strike any of you as just the tiniest bit fucking insane?!"

"Easy there, William," Silversmith said next to him before turning his gaze to the challenger. "Allow the man a moment or two to gather his thoughts. That's not so unreasonable, is it, Mister Wilcox?"

Will could see the younger werewolf stopping to consider his next words very carefully, Silversmith's reputation clearly carrying a bunch of weight around the room. The last thing anyone wanted to do was offend someone with as much raw magical power as the Dragonborn was known to bear, and so the response was calculated and carefully chosen. "No, Lord Silversmith. Forgive my hastiness. I am... simply so moved to action that I did not stop and consider my manners. I... patiently await your response, Mister Caparelli."

It gave Will a moment to look over Nathan. Given more than a cursory glance, it became clear to Will that Nathan was a year or two younger than him, although probably still at least eighteen or so, with scruffy brown hair and a patchy red beard that had to be the young man's first desperate attempt at facial hair, an attempt he was certainly losing. If it was to be simply a fist fight, Will wouldn't have been worried, but he just knew that he wasn't going to get out of things quite that easily.

Will lowered his voice and whispered down to Jonas. "What are my options here?"

"If you want, you can decline the duel."

"Oh good."

"Of course, the shame of it will result in your being exiled from your tribe and made fun of for the rest of eternity."

Will clicked his tongue. "Less good."

"I would imagine."

"And the other option?"

"Accept the duel and do what you can to set the terms as favorably as you can. As the party being challenged, you will of course get to choose the weapons and the severity."

"I could make this a shootout?"

"You could, but it's significantly harder to set the end of the duel as 'non-lethal' if you do."

"Fair point," Will said. "I absolutely want to have a non-lethal outcome. Is there a particular penalty I'd have to pay if I lost?"

"You'd have to surrender the right to Trish's hand in marriage."

"I don't recall asking for that in the first place."

"It was set up by your father, and those kinds of pacts are notoriously hard to get out of."

"But I'd still be in the tribe?"

"Assuming you chose a non-lethal option, assuredly."

"I can't see myself choosing a lethal option, can you?"

"I will admit, Will, it does not seem like your preferred option. Also, you might be somewhat ostracized."

"I can't say I like the sound of that."

"No, if you're going to accept the duel, it should certainly be with intent to win."

"So, I'll get to decide weapons and terms, and he'll get to decide time and seconds?"

"That's correct."

"And if I won?"

"If you win, the agreement goes on as planned, and young Nathan's rite to dispute it is snuffed out for all eternity."

"It doesn't seem like she's particularly keen on the kid."

"Of course not. She's keen on you, William, but she's also very proud, and doesn't like the idea of being forced into a marriage."

Will looked down at the table for a long second before he spoke again. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"Without facing down the duel?" Silversmith said, a slight sigh to his cadence. "I don't see how. That said, Will, by dictating the terms of combat and surrender, you have much more power in this duel than you imagine."

"Like they say in the musical, 'okay, so we're doing this,'" Will said before he looked up at Nathan, shaking his head. "For the record, kid, I'm fundamentally against this in principle and execution, but you've backed me into a corner, because there's no way I'm letting somebody push me out of this new family I just found out I have, so I guess I accept."

"Good! I choose time as here and now," Nathan said, his eagerness and impatience showing. Will decided he was going to try and use that lack of consideration against him as much as he could.

"Fine," Will said, completely unsurprised by that. He didn't know how much training the kid had with weapons, and if Will was being completely honest with himself, he didn't have much training in that way himself. Guns and blades were both out, so he supposed unarmed combat would be the best. "Unarmed combat."

"Really? Ha! I accept!" Nathan shot back with a broad smile.

There was a laugh from several of the werewolf crowd, and Will saw Trish visibly put her face in her hand, so Will looked down to Silversmith. "What am I missing?"

"You didn't specify human form, so changing into werewolf form is perfectly acceptable."

"That's... that's not what I meant."

"Well, that's what you said, William, and even I can't protect you from that."

"I'm going to have to fight this guy in a werewolf form that he's spent half his life training with, and I just learned how to use a couple months ago? That hardly seems fair."

"That is why they were laughing."

"And I'm guessing it's too late to change that now?"

"He's already accepted, yes."

"Great. Just fucking great."

"As my second, I choose Trish Colt," Nathan said.

Trish looked utterly shocked, unable to pull words to her mouth, so it was thankful that Captain Tommy Clarke stood up, shaking his head. "Nice try, kid, but as she's involved centrally in the dispute, she cannot be your second, and you should know better," the wizard scolded. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to use Will's lack of knowledge about this arena to broker unfair terms, something that is very expressly forbidden in the etiquette of dueling, and can be subject to punishment if it's determined you're doing so intentionally."

Nathan suddenly looked very much like a child caught with his hand inside of the cookie jar. "Oh! Of course not, Captain Clarke. I had simply forgotten. You are correct. Instead, I choose Alan Featherhawk as my second."

A Native American man in the werewolf section a few tables down, with onyx black hair pulled back into a heavy braid, raised a beer stein in approval, his expression cold. "Alan Featherhawk of the First Nations accepts."

"I choose Jonas Silversmith as my second," Will said.

"I'm afraid Jonas, as one of the witnesses of the accord in question, also can't be one of the seconds, Will, so you'll need to choose another," Tommy said, the entire time tapping his chest with his right hand in a gesture that Will was certain even the most oblivious person in the room could understand.

"Ah yes, then I choose Captain Tommy Clarke of Green Wizards' House," Will said, a wry smirk on his face.

"What a coincidence!" Tommy laughed. "I just happen to be extremely happy to accept!"

There was a groan from a few people in the werewolf camp, but Will saw Trish lift her face from her hand to have a slight smile on her face, as if Will had just given her some glimmer of hope, although the expression on her face looked conflicted at best.

"Then it's just to you to settle on terms of finish," Nathan said to him.

Will considered for a moment, then leaned down to whisper to Jonas once more, wanting to make sure he got the words right before he spoke again. "Is 'to submission' allowed?"

"It is, but you should stipulate that unconsciousness is an automatic yield, otherwise it would be up to the seconds to settle that, and that might give them the chance to pull something unpleasant."

Will stood back up and nodded. "Submission, including unconsciousness, but completely non-fatal. This won't be a duel to the death. Not on my watch. I want both of us able to stand up and talk about this afterwards."

"Oh, we'll be able to talk, but it might be a couple of days, especially if I break your jaw," Nathan said with a smarmy laugh.

"You're kind of a prick, kid. You know that?"

The younger werewolf shrugged dismissively. "Think what you like, new blood. I just don't think enough of you to give a shit, man."

"Well, I'll have to make sure I leave an impression then," Will said, hoping adopting bravado would make him feel better. He started stretching a little bit, as he noticed the wizards starting to clear tables out of the center of the room again, setting up the little arena they had built for Silversmith's duel only a few hours earlier.

"Do you mind a piece of advice, Will?" Tommy said after he stepped over to stand next to Will.

"No, by all means," Will laughed, gesturing freely into the air. "I need all the help I can get. What've you got for me?"

"Right now, you're trying to think about what you can do here, how you can plan for the fight. Don't. You need to just go into it and trust your instincts, rely on your innate sense of how to win a fight, how to deal with an opponent. Thinking will get you in trouble. Stay fast. Stay limber. Just go out there and deal with him."

"And if he gets the upper hand on me?"

"Then he'll beat the crap out of you, and as soon as you tell me to stop the fight, I will."

"What if I can't tell you to stop the fight?"

"Then I'll decide to do it on my own," Tommy said with an amused shrug. "I've been second in dozens of duels before. It's not that hard."

"What, really?"

The young wizard laughed, rolling his eyes. "What, are you crazy? First time! Two duels in one day? That shit's crazy!" Tommy patted Will on his shoulder and started to walk towards the center of the cleared-out space. "Are you people not entertained?" he said, spreading his arms out as he looked around the room and a bunch of people laughed. "C'mon, you two, let's get this shit on the road. While I know this duel's important, the rest of us have got shit to do tomorrow."

Will looked at Nathan, who removed a knife from his belt, taking out his wallet and keys, placing them all on the table before moving into the center of the room, spreading his arms in Will's direction. "Let's go, puppy!" Nathan taunted. "I'm ready for you. Bring it!"

Even though he'd just witnessed a duel a little bit earlier, this felt very different, because this time, it was him involved. He stepped into the center of the area, as people started to chant and jeer. It was sea of faces and sound, and Will felt like it was all starting to blur together into one smear of noise and color. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears.

Will didn't like fighting.

But he was still going to beat the living snot out of this kid, he decided then and there.

Will had spent most of his childhood avoiding getting into fights, but he'd had to fight a kid in high school once. A piece of advice one of his best friends had offered him was that a fight was mostly decided on who wanted it more. And while the young man across from him had a good deal at stake, he wasn't fighting for anything as much as Will was.

Nathan was fighting for what he thought was his claim to Trish, or maybe the right for Trish to decide for herself, but Will was fighting for his place among the tribe, a home like he'd never had before, a place among others of his kind, who could understand who and what he was. This was his new family that Nathan was attempting to push him out of, and he would be damned if he let that happen. No, Nathan's causes were nowhere near as important as Will's.

The punk kid was going to get his clock cleaned; he just didn't know it yet.

Will had been taught a little bit about werewolf combat, but he would in no way consider himself a master of it. Nathan, on the other hand, was young and impetuous, and that was something Will hoped to use against him. The boy's reckless nature was written all over his face, and the fact that he was laughing over Will's declaration of hand-to-hand combat meant that Nathan was thinking he already had this in the bag. And that sort of overconfidence could be turned in Will's favor.

There wasn't any sort of warning sign that the duel had started, just a shift in the weight of Nathan's body from his front foot to his back foot. The younger man was preparing to leap, and so Will started considering his next few moves, and when Nathan's feet left the floor, Will was already stepping to one side, allowing the younger man to fly through the empty space.

His heart was pounding in his chest like a tribal drum, but he was hoping to make it look effortless, because how he won was just as important as if he won. He needed to look like a tribal elder putting down the impertinent challenge of a young pup who didn't know any better. The look on Nathan's face as he whizzed past Will gave him confidence, and he struck out, smacking the back of his hand against the side of Nathan's face. The young man gave out a slight yelp, and that boosted Will's spirits, at least for a second, before he had to drop to the ground and roll in evasion as Nathan's form shifted into werewolf, a light brown lean body with sharpened claws that just brushed along Will's shoulder, ripping through his shirt and digging a small scratch in his body.

Will immediately shifted into his werewolf form, his size giving him one advantage and taking away another. While Will's form was clearly stronger, more muscular and heavier set, he was also a bigger target, and lacked Nathan's speed and agility, which was a problem, because speed always gave more of an edge to an experienced fighter than sheer power.

Nathan's next strike came nearly out of nowhere, the younger werewolf wanting to press the offensive and hope to keep Will off-guard, but Will's mind was already racing at this point, and he brought his left hand up to punch at Nathan's wrist, knocking the blow away from making contact. The younger werewolf tried to follow it up with a low strike, but Will got a kick in the way of it, again deflecting the incoming attack.

He suspected the young man would burn through his energy fast and carelessly, simply because that was the sort of combat advice that he'd overheard Clayton giving the younger pups, a bit of advice he himself didn't agree with. Clayton believed that the longer a fight went on, the more likely you were to lose - hit them hard, hit them fast and hit them again. Being on the defense was for suckers.

It was time for him to take advantage of that misconception.

The next couple of minutes were grueling, as Will had to do everything that he could to stay one step ahead of Nathan, parrying as many strikes and swipes as he could, blocking kicks designed to throw him off balance or knock him to the floor.

The younger werewolf had a relentless nature to him, no doubt trying to do his instructor proud, but Will did his best to keep to his patient and cautious approach, even if the younger werewolf was getting a few scratches in here and there.

To most outside observers, Will felt it probably looked like he was losing, which was good, because he needed Nathan to get overconfident for this to work, so as much as it pained him, Will remained on the defensive, dodging, blocking or occasionally even taking blow after blow, keeping his offensive maneuvers from doing any real damage.

The longer it went, the harder it got, and the more he was starting to shed sweat and blood. The deep cuts were starting to take a toll on him, no matter how many of the attacks were deflected and reduced in impact. His body was starting to lose endurance.

That meant it was his time to strike.

Even though his jet-black fur was heavily streaked with his own blood, Will knew he had one or two solid moves left in him, but he needed to make those moves count, because they might be his last. Will could see Nathan thought he was in control, and so the younger werewolf was trying to make each strike the final one, but that made him impatient and hurried, something Will was going to take advantage of.

Nathan made a desperate lunge, trying to go for Will's neck, but it was frantic and easy to see coming, so Will dropped down for just a short instant and then leapt up, bringing his fist to connect hard with Nathan's throat. The younger werewolf coughed and choked, struggling to regain his breath, but in that moment, Nathan was bordering on berserk, just as Will had counted on him being. And that meant Nathan didn't think about his next strike - he just went for it, punching towards Will's intentionally exposed chest.

The lure had done its job as Will moved only inches to one side, lifting his arm so Nathan's strike passed between his torso and his right arm. Will clamped down suddenly with his right arm and turned and twisted, using all his strength until he heard a telltale crack, the sound of Nathan's arm fracturing as the younger man howled in furious pain.

From there, it was just a matter of putting the issue to rest, as Will began to use his left arm to punch and pound Nathan in the face and chest, taking advantage of the momentary distraction of pain to allow him to inflict far greater damage than Nathan's cuts and scrapes had done to him over the rest of the fight. The sound of Will's blows turned from sharp cracks into wet crunches as he broke Nathan's nose and then continued to pummel him with savage blows until finally...

"Enough!" Alan Featherhawk shouted from his place aside of the crowd. "As his second, I declare that Nathan Wilcox yields!"

With that, Will dropped the bloody, almost unconscious form of Nathan to the ground, panting and gasping for air himself, his own wounds weighing heavily upon him, but knowing there was no room for weakness, he refused to allow himself to look put upon or lessened by the injuries. The image of this moment needed to be planted deep in the minds of all those who looked upon him.

"Anybody fucking else?"

When Will's challenge went unanswered, Will nodded, stepping over Nathan's broken form, dragging himself back over to the table, slumping down into his seat, Silversmith on one side of him, Tommy moving to the other, as the wizard spoke first. "I was wondering when you were going to get in the fight," Tommy laughed. "I didn't know you had a rope-a-dope in you."

"Yeah, well," Will sputtered. "I knew the kid had me beat in speed, ferocity and training in using the werewolf form to his advantage, so I had to rely on him also being exactly what he was - a young hotheaded kid who didn't know anything about what to do when a fight goes long. Fuck, this hurts. Don't suppose you could patch me up?"

Silversmith looked like he was about to do something when Tommy raised his hand and started coiling strips of fire through the air, which began to pass over Will's form. They weren't entirely healing up the wounds, but they were stitching the wounds closed, mending the flesh, even if the muscle damage wasn't repaired beneath. "Don't worry, it'll still scar up nicely, make you look a bit meaner and more experienced," Tommy said with a coy laugh. "I know how much the image is important to your kind, and I wouldn't want to deprive you of the scars of your first duel."

"You did quite well, William," Jonas said to him. "I knew you had some of your father's fighting spirit inside of you, but I am surprised that you were able to endure quite as much as you did, as was needed, to get your advantage and use that to finish the fight."

Will rubbed the newly patched flesh of his wounded body, wincing a little, the pain still very much raw and fresh, as he glanced over to see some of the members of his tribe hauling Nathan's body over to The Prodigy, who began performing healing magics upon the younger werewolf, restoring the young man's body back into working order, the streak of blood across the floor still marking the path where they'd dragged him from the center of the room to their corner. "Do I go talk to Trish now, or do I wait?"

The older man bristled in amusement. "You're the winner, William, the answer is you do whatever the fuck you want," Silversmith said. "You demonstrated your superiority over Nathan quite thoroughly, so whatever you decide, that is the correct answer. Enjoy your moment of glory for the time being and reap in its rewards."

He nodded and started to pull himself back to his feet. It took a little more effort to stand than he'd have liked, but the image he put on, the projection, showing what he was capable of, he needed to cement that, to make sure nobody doubted who and what he was. Before he left the table, however, Jonas placed his hand over Will's.

"One thing to keep in mind, William," Jonas said. "Your father, for all his flaws and problems, was a mighty leader of your tribe for some time, and his shadow casts over all you say and do, whether you like that or not. You are partially judged as his echo, and partially on your own merits. This fight? This duel you have won? It has clarified that you are your father's son. You are a force to be reckoned with in your own right, and that whatever preconceived notions they had about you being in any way lesser because you didn't grow up among your own kind, those are unfounded and should be dismissed, lest they misjudge you again. Whatever you were before now, William, you are not that now. Your standing amid the tribe has been well established by this duel, and those who did not fear you before, they most certainly have cause to now."

Will gave a second nod, taking back his hand, and then walking over towards Trish, whose expression he could not read at all for the moment. "I hope I didn't bust him up too badly," Will said, unsure of what else to say.

"I'd say he's fine, but you dusted him up pretty good, Will," Trish sighed. "I was actually worried about you for a bit out there, when it looked like Nathan was getting some decent licks in on you, but I don't think any of us thought you'd have the courage to play possum that long. When I saw you grab his arm out of that strike, I knew it was all over. Clayton'll be pissed that one of his students couldn't beat a scrapling with only a few weeks of training in his werewolf form, but I'll try and pass on just how confident you looked."

He raised his hand dismissively. "I don't really give a shit about that, Trish," he said, unable to look at her, all the confidence he'd had a moment ago completely gone in the place of this towering beauty he was supposed to be engaged to. "I just wanted to come over and tell you that if you don't want to go through with the arranged marriage, I'll absolutely respect that. I know neither of us had a say in--"

"Are you fucking saying you went through all of that, and you don't even want me, Bowland?" she snarled, as Will realized he'd just chosen exactly the wrong thing to say at exactly the wrong moment, and he began trying to think of a path out that didn't involve him being in a second duel.

"No!" Will said, putting his hands up. "You're smart, you're fucking beautiful... every man, woman and dragon in this place would kill to have you as their mate! Of course, I fucking want you! I'm just saying that if you don't want--"

"My wants have fuck all to do with this situation, Will," she grumbled. "No matter what you or anyone else says. That's what our parents expected us to do, and that's what we're going to fucking do." She glanced up at him and offered him a sympathetic smile. "And I get it. You don't like the idea of people making decisions for you. Me neither. It blows. But we cannot escape our obligations, and there's a sense of duty that comes with being part of a tribe. Our parents wanted us to be wed to further our tribe's solidarity, I can respect that. And, begrudgingly or not, you fought for me. Maybe more for the ability to let me have my own decision in the matter, but also for your own place among the tribe, and I can't fault for you for that." She looked away from him for a moment before turning back to look his way. "We aren't always in control of our own destinies, but you saw that yours had only two paths - one intertwined with mine, and one exiled for the tribe, and you fought to stay with me, and that? That must mean something in this crazy, mixed-up world of ours. I'm... I'm just going to need some time to get my head wrapped around it." She laughed to herself. "Clayton's going to throw a shitfit, I'm sure, but I'll help him get through it."

"Do... do you want me, Trish?"

The tall woman smirked and offered a little shrug. "I'd be lying' if I didn't confess you were cute in a rough around the edges kinda way," she admitted. "And the fact that you come from such powerful lineage explains a few things, about how quickly you've picked up your natural abilities, and why you have a nuclear weapon like Silversmith looking out for you." She paused for a long moment before turning back to look at Will. "You'll do. Long as you don't ever take me for granted or think of me as someone you can push around. It won't be just you or just me at the head of this tribe - we're both gonna be up there making decisions, and if that's a dealbreaker for you, best get off now."

"No, ma'am," Will chuckled. "My momma raised me to respect women as the smarter of the species, and us dumb menfolk are best left for fighting and lifting heavy shit."

"Then as long as we're clear on that," she said, standing once more, reminding him that she was still several inches taller than he was. "You'd better go take your seat back with Jonas so we can finish up this meeting, but before you go, you'd better take your damn prize..."

"My pr--"

Before Will could finish the word, Trish had grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him up into a powerful kiss that practically sucked the air out of his lungs, her mouth nearly devouring his, the kind of feral, intense liplock that took his breath away, as he felt her body pressing into his, and he could swear there was a little giggle escaping her throat when she released him, and he looked more dazed than he had after the fight.

"You won, stud," Trish told him, slapping him on the ass. "I'll see you soon and we can get to consummating and such."

With that, Will walked back to his seat with the dopiest grin he'd ever had, to a smirking Silversmith and a silently cheering Tommy.

"I'm not even going to ask if anyone else has business tonight," Grand Captain Feng said, waving his hand from the podium, with a raucous laugh. "Meeting adjourned! Get out there and party, you filthy animals!"