“I know you are. But where do we do this?”
“At my digs. Lots of privacy there.”
“When?”
“Now.”
It was dark as we approached the Delphias’ cottage. The usual sounds associated with a beast trainer’s home were no longer in evidence. There were no new beasts, as I was sure Duf had no slivers to train them. All his time was spent on the Wall.
But there were sounds, because the adar had seen us approach. “Hello,” it said.
“Hello,” I said back.
“And who might this be?” the adar asked.
“This might be Vega Jane,” I answered.
It stood very tall and its great chest swelled. “Ooohhh, Ve-Vega Jane. So pr-pretty, Ve-Ve-Vega Jane. So be-be-be-beautiful, Ve-Ve-Vega Jane.” It sounded exactly like Delph.
Delph roared, “Shut up, you great pile of feathers, before you end up in the pot for me sup!”
“Be-be-beautiful, Ve-Ve-Vega Jane,” the adar said one last time and then gave Delph a surly glance before tucking its head under a wing and going back to sleep.
I was stunned by this outburst, but there was also an odd tingling sensation at the back of my neck. The thing was, adars only use words they’ve heard. I had no time to think about it really because as I looked over, Delph was charging straight at me full speed. I only had time to cry out and put my hands up before he had collided with me. He lifted me off the ground, raised me over his head and was about to crush me against a tree when he stopped. He looked up. I looked down.
“What in the bloody Hel are you doing, Delph?” I gasped.
He slowly lowered me to the ground. “At Duelum, there’s no stopping. No rules really, neither fair nor foul. There’s no point not being ready to fight at all times. Blokes come at you right from the first clang of the bell, Vega Jane. Charge, pin your arms to your sides, lift you up and smash you against the hardest thing they can find. Then you won’t be getting back up. Trust me. I did it to Non last Duelum. He got careless-like, the big oaf.”
I looked at the tree and then back at Delph and shivered.
“Okay,” I said. “I get the point. So what now?”
“So we fight.” He backed up a few paces and went into a crouch. “Now, with Ladon-Tosh —” Delph began.
“Ladon-Tosh!” I exclaimed. “He’s older than twenty-four sessions. He won’t be in the Duelum.”
Delph shrugged. “Well, the bloke says he’s twenty-three sessions.”
“Bollocks,” I blurted out.
“He’s in the Duelum, Vega. Just the way ’tis.”
“But aren’t there referees?”
“O’course, but I think they’re all so afraid of him. If he says he’s of proper age, they’re not about to challenge him, are they?”
I continued to fume. “That is the biggest load of tripe. Fine, who else?”
“Non. Ran Digby. Cletus Loon. Lots of blokes.”
“But none so big as you.”
“Most ain’t. But it’s not only the big ones you have to look out for, Vega Jane. The little blokes are quick and cagey and they pack a wallop. My last Duelum, I almost got knocked out by a bloke half me size.”
“How?”
“Threw dirt in me eyes and then hit me with a board he had hidden on the pitch.”
My eyes bulged. “They can do that?”
He looked at me in exasperation. “Don’t you watch the Duelums, Vega Jane?”
“Well, just the championship bout. Sometimes.” The truth was I could not stand to see Wugs trying to kill one another. The last time I had watched Delph win, I was violently sick as blood flowed from him and the other Wug.
He nodded. “Aye, they don’t let you fight as dirty in the last round, to be sure, because the full Council is watching. But to get there, you got to expect anything.”
He went into a crouch again, keeping his hands up and his arms tight to his sides. “Protect your body, Vega Jane. A blow to the belly or your side is right painful.” He held his fists up higher. “And watch your head. Hard to fight with a cracked skull.”
I began to feel sick to my stomach. “A cracked skull?”
“Got one two Duelums ago. Had a headache for a half a session.”
My mouth had gone totally dry. “How can I protect my body and my head at the same time?” I croaked.
“Just got to keep moving.” He danced around a bit on nimble feet, showing more agility than I would have allowed him credit for, given his size.
He said, “You can hit a bloke with anything. Fists, head, legs, knees.”
“And boards,” I reminded him.
“Now, when you get hit —”
“So you’re presuming I’m going to get hit?” I interrupted.
He said matter-of-factly, “Every bloke gets hit in a Duelum. In fact, count on about a dozen times a bout. Meaning the hard shots. ’Bout fifty times total, but I don’t count the little shots that just make ya wonky for a bit.”
I wanted to turn and run screaming.
“When you get hit, no matter how light or hard, I would recommend you going down.”
At first I rejoiced at this proposition, but then I recalled Morrigone’s words. If I did not fight to my fullest, I would be going to Valhall for the rest of my sessions. But Delph’s next words showed he was not planning for me to surrender.
“Going down dinnae mean you’ve lost the bout, Vega Jane. The bloke will just jump on you and pound you till ya can’t see or hear nothing no more. It hurts,” he added unnecessarily. “Now, ’tis true if ya put both your hands up in surrender, the bout is over and no Wug can hit you without getting a foul called.”
“I can’t surrender, Delph,” I said. And I thought, No matter how much I may want to.
“You’re nae surrendering, Vega Jane. What you do is go down in a special way. Like this.”
He fell onto his back, his knees tucked up to his chest. He continued. “Just about every bloke will come at you hard soon as you go down. He’ll charge head-on at you. Now, you wait till he’s just a wee bit away and then you do this.”
Delph kicked out with both feet with such force that I jumped back even though I was in no danger of being hit. In the next instant, he was on his feet. He leapt into the air and came down with both feet on top of his imaginary opponent. Then he jumped up again and came down with his right arm in the shape of a V and his elbow pointed downward. He sprawled on the ground with his elbow poised a quarter inch above the dirt.
“That’s the bloke’s throat. Elbow strike there he can’t breathe, can he? He passes out. And you win. And go on to the next round. Clean and quick. Har.”
I felt my own throat constrict. “But if he can’t breathe, won’t he die?” I said in a dry, cracked voice.
Delph rose and dusted off his trousers and hands. “Well, most blokes start breathing on their own pretty quick. For those what need a bitta help, there’re Mendens standing by to come over and beat on their chests. That usually does the trick. Sometimes they have to cut open the throat to get the air flowing again, but the scar is pretty small and it don’t bleed all that much.”
I turned around and heaved the meager contents of my belly into a bush.
I felt Delph’s big hands around my shoulders a moment later. He supported me while I finished being sick. I wiped my mouth and turned to face him, my cheeks red with embarrassment.
“Delph, I had no idea the Duelums were like this. And you winning three of them already? Well, that’s about the most amazing thing ever.”
His face flushed with pleasure at my praising words. “’Tain’t all that special,” he said modestly.
“But what you’ve taught me will help.” I didn’t believe this of course, because even if I jumped off the tallest tree in Wormwood and landed on Non’s throat, I doubt he would even cough.