Ftzaal screamed and leapt, swinging overhand and Pouncer moved to block the blow, but it was a feint and the real threat was Ftzaal's hind claws, coming around to rake at his face now that Pouncer's slicewire was out of line. Instinctively he jerked back, although his armor would have protected him from any serious damage. As he did so Ftzaal brought his blade around and down, aiming for Pouncer's neck articulation. Double feint! In desperation Pouncer twisted sideways. The motion saved his life as the monomolecular filament cut into the grooves that protected his neck but didn't penetrate all the way. He didn't get a chance to reflect on his luck. Ftzaal had used the momentum of his swing to carry him into a spin, swinging again as he came around. Pouncer blocked awkwardly and fell back, and again they faced each other.
Ftzaal was breathing deeply and evenly through bared fangs. “I want you alive. Put down your sword and I pledge my honor to your life.”
“I came here to win or die. Pledge your honor to your own life.” Pouncer turned the last word into a scream and leapt, feinting high, slashing low. Ftzaal blocked and spun sideways as Pouncer touched down and turned, his hind claws tearing strips from the lavish carpeting as he stopped his forward momentum with sheer muscle, crouching low to keep himself from tumbling. He slashed again, and his opponent jumped back to avoid the unexpected strike.
“You are skilled, Rrit. I may actually wear your ears.”
“You'll have to collect them first, Ftzaal.” Pouncer spat the words with a confidence he didn't feel. He is better than me and he knows it. With more sthondat drug he could know even Ftzaal's mind well enough to anticipate his moves, but he didn't have the option of taking it now. And dare I face the addiction? Could I bring myself to kill him with our minds connected? Sthondat was seductive, but he had seen what it had done to his brother. I don't want to share Patriarch's Telepath's fate.
And he didn't have the option to take more now anyway. When in doubt, attack. Guardmaster's words came back to him. He screamed and leapt again, swinging his variable sword up and around to catch Ftzaal on his weak side. His opponent pivoted to block the blow, and Pouncer went past, lashing out with his hind claws at the Tzaatz's hip to knock him sideways. The ploy worked, but his claws skidded off Ftzaal's armor. His adversary staggered but didn't fall, and still managed to get in a counterblow as Pouncer came past. The slicewire bounced off the back of Pouncer's helmet. There was little chance it would have hit a weak spot with enough force to penetrate from that angle, but the blow served as a warning. Never leave an opening. The first mistake would be the last when facing the Protector of Jotok in single combat.
He rolled again as he landed, then flattened himself to the ground as Ftzaal's slicewire blurred over his head. He had a split second's respite to scramble clear as Ftzaal brought the swing around to cut him in half from above. He dodged back and forth, flat on his back as a flurry of blows rained down around him, then finally managed to get his slicewire into position to block. He caught the edge of Ftzaal's weapon and managed to flip it out of line, but from the floor he lacked the angle necessary to exploit the advantage, and Ftzaal just stepped back out of range, flipping his ears in amusement. Pouncer rolled to his feet, breathing hard. Ftzaal was relaxed and unruffled. He is toying with me. It was a sobering realization. Pouncer was putting every sinew into the fight. Ftzaal-Tzaatz was not even trying hard. The black-furred killer would end the fight when and how he chose and there was nothing Pouncer could do about it. I too have more power here than I am using; my troops control the Citadel. He pushed the thought away as honorless. He had chosen skatosh to finish Kchula-Tzaatz because he needed to set an example for his followers, needed to demonstrate that he was the kind of Patriarch who fought his own fights. His warriors would come if he called them despite the traditions that said they should not, their loyalty was that strong. It would save his life if he did, but he would lose their respect. He could never rule effectively without their support, and the Patriarchy needed a strong Patriarch now more than ever. No, if my destiny is to die here I will die here, but I will not show cowardice to my followers.
Ftzaal circled him slowly, forcing him to turn to keep his guard toward his enemy. When in doubt, attack, but he was tired now, and his opponent was still fresh, and Guardmaster had also cautioned that attack must come from a position of strength. I am allowing him to set the conditions of battle here, fighting his fight. I need to change that, force him to fight my fight. The problem was, Pouncer's fight was Ftzaal's fight, the single combat form, and Ftzaal was better at it. Nor was he liable to be sucked into the kill rage with a few insults.
Ftzaal lunged forward, slicewire cutting the air, and Pouncer blocked and stepped back. Ftzaal snapped his weapon vertical, avoiding the block and then bringing it down again to slice through Pouncer's arm articulation. Pouncer turned and rolled backward, the only option he had to save himself, and again Ftzaal rippled his ears. “Let me know when you're ready to die, Rrit.”
Pouncer didn't waste breath on a reply. Make a decision fast, time is running out. He flicked his eyes around his father's hall, seeking anything he could turn to his advantage, but there was nothing. So if you can't fight your own fight, at least choose a fight that isn't his either. His eye came over the crimson Patriarchal banners hanging down the carved stone walls and inspiration struck. He screamed and leapt, not at Ftzaal but past him, retracting his slicewire as he did. Ftzaal swung as he went by, but the distance was too large for him to connect, and then Pouncer was at the drapery, claws extended to catch the fabric. It sagged as it took his weight and for a moment he thought it would collapse, but it was heavy woven hsahk, firmly bolted to the vaulted roof, and it held. He scrambled up it, his claws tearing slashes into the precious fabric as he went.
“So the Rrit runs like a vatach.” Ftzaal was enjoying himself. “And you think this is how a Patriarch fights?”
Again Pouncer didn't bother to answer. At the top of the drapery he drew his variable sword again and extended it to full length. Leaning backward he leapt to grab one of the thick stonewood ceiling beams. On his way past he swung the sword, arm fully extended, to cut the support chain of one of the room's huge, ancient chandeliers. The chain parted and the chandelier fell as he grabbed at the beam with his other hand, claws digging in. He pivoted his hind claws around to get purchase, and then levered himself onto the beam. The chandelier crashed to the floor, spraying gemstones from their fittings, but Ftzaal-Tzaatz had managed to dodge out of the way before it hit. His reflexes are incredible. Already the Tzaatz had understood that Pouncer was not fleeing but changing the ground rules, and he was leaping to climb another drapery, choosing one far enough away that he too would be up in the ceiling beams before Pouncer could scramble over to cut it loose beneath him. Ftzaal's reflexes would be an asset in a battle fought in such an awkward and precarious environment, but most of the single combat form would be inapplicable. The assembly below watched, awestruck. Pouncer swung his slicewire through the beam beneath him. The timber popped loudly as it was severed and ancient strains suddenly relieved. He felt it give slightly beneath him, but the two cut faces pressed against each other kept it from collapsing completely. Now I have a trap, if I can lure him into it. A second cut would drop a section of timber to fall to the floor, and if Pouncer could get Ftzaal to stand between himself and the first cut, when he made the second cut the Tzaatz would fall with it.