The thrill of a challenge sobered Brunhilde’s senses. Even the guards here in Sissine were soft, their greatest challenge was an argumentative merchant. Hope was a serious threat. She didn’t know why Hope had deigned to descend from her solitary relaxation. She didn’t care. She was ready for a proper fight.

Hope skipped forward and then back, testing Brunhilde’s guard. The barbarian saw through it, she let Hope move around without making a move. She didn’t trust the princess fully to not use magic. Her capricious moods made her promises fragile.

Brunhilde swung a fist and Hope ducked it. It would have knocked her out had it connected. It was impressive seeing Brunhilde fight. Her height and strength gave her great control of a battlefield. But Hope had studied unarmed combat under several tutors. She slipped under Brunhilde’s guard and gave her a short, sharp jab in the solar plexus. Even without chainmail the punch hurt Hope more than Brunhilde.

Brunhilde spun and grabbed Hope’s waist. She hefted her into the air, but Hope twisted out of the hold and landed behind her, silently like a cat.

The crowd was quiet now, they were fascinated with these two strange warriors before them. Unlucky merchants and guards on the road may have seen rabid ghouls clawing in the dark, or been chased by a manticore through the desert, but most citizens of Sissine had never seen a true fight. It was a dance of raw power against snake-like speed. Brunhilde’s blows looked like they could break stone, but Hope moved like lightning.

“You can fight without magic,” Brunhilde said. There was a hint of approval in her voice.

“Of course,” Hope replied. She crouched and swayed left and right like a cobra hypnotising its prey.

Brunhilde felt her guard shifting, trying to predict where Hope would strike next. Hope was trying to confuse and tire her. But Hope was a princess and Brunhilde was a warrior. There could only be one victor here.

Hope darted forward and launched a kick at Brunhilde’s knee. The warrior managed to twist and take the blow on the side of her thigh, not the kneecap that may have shattered under the strike.

Brunhilde swung her fist at Hope’s outstretched leg, landing a bruising blow. The crowd gasped in sympathy for Hope.

Hope retreated and winced. She could have deflected that with her magical shields. But they had agreed on the rules. And Brunhilde could have used her full strength but didn’t.

“You’re not holding anything back,” Brunhilde said.

“You are,” Hope said. She pouted, from the bruise and the insult. “You don’t think I can best you.”

“I won’t use all my strength unless I have to.”

They circled each other. Hope raised her chin temptingly. “You don’t know how dangerous I am. Even without magic,” Hope boasted. “You may have to use all your wits and your brute strength to beat me.”

“I doubt it. I’m sure we can fight long enough, you’ll get distracted,” Brunhilde said.

Hope darted forward and landed a stinging blow to Brunhilde’s face. Long arms wrapped around her; she was caught in a bearhug. Her lungs tried to suck in air and failed. She squirmed and struck her fingers into a nerve on Brunhilde’s arm. It went limp and Hope was freed. Brunhilde scowled at her. Her arm felt alive and dead at the same time.

“We said no magic.” She massaged her numb arm.

“That’s not magic.” Hope gasped. She needed to catch her breath and centre herself. Brunhilde had enraged her and made her careless with her insult.

“You have tricks I haven’t seen,” Brunhilde said.

“So do you,” Hope replied. She waited for Brunhilde to recover.

“Why are you trying my strength?” Brunhilde said.

“I need a… I need a favour from you,” Hope said. She felt naked having to ask.

Brunhilde raised her eyebrows. Her guard stayed up. This seemed like a distraction. “Ask it then.”

“Not here.” Hope skipped forward and jabbed. Brunhilde deflected the punch.

“You really do need my help,” Brunhilde said. She saw awkwardness in Hope she had not seen before.

She lunged left and then shifted, driving her elbow towards Hope’s head. The princess saw the feint and was already moving behind Brunhilde. They circled around each other, testing each other’s guard more carefully now.

“You saved my life, I still have to repay that,” Brunhilde said.

“That was an accident! You don’t need to follow me around!”

“I thought you enjoyed my company,” Brunhilde said. Her stinging punch caught Hope’s shoulder and knocked her to her knees.

Brunhilde took the opportunity and closed in. She took a hit to her face as Hope tried to rise up, but her hands closed around Hope’s and she hefted the princess into the air. Her grip was like a steel manacle. Hope kicked her in the stomach, catching another nerve point. Brunhilde’s entire body quivered and she let go. It was like Hope could see gaps of armour in her soul and strike right at her core.

The crowd groaned in sympathy with the big barbarian. She had seemed invincible against the guardsmen, but this tiny opponent was landing blows that struck her to her core.

“No magic!” she groaned.

“It’s not magic, you dolt. It’s just anatomy.”

“Teach me that!” she hissed through shivering teeth.

“If you win, I teach you. If I win, you help me,” Hope said.

“Agreed.”

Brunhilde charged forward on shaky legs. Hope was caught by surprise, she barely managed to leap over the charge. Her hands pushed down on Brunhilde’s shoulders and vaulted her like bull. After landing in a crouch, she span a low roundhouse kick against Brunhilde’s ankle. Nothing. Brunhilde swore but stayed standing. She landed a stinging kick on Hope’s leg.

“You move like a cat,” Brunhilde said.

“You move like a tree,” Hope said.

“My cousin Terese saw a forest of moving trees. They danced in a procession under the moonlight.”

Hope retreated again, but she was exhausted. She couldn’t take another hit from Brunhilde. She had to finish this fight now. A competitive part of her told her to summon up her magic, but her pride was louder. She would win this fight fairly.

She struck a torrent of blows. Brunhilde was forced to hide behind her guard. But she had already lost. Amongst the rain of blows, Hope was striking weak-points. Her fingers struck like icy hailstones. Brunhilde’s arms numbed, and her guard dropped. Their eyes met for a second. Hope had won, they both saw it.

Hope saw pure defeat in Brunhilde’s eyes. But not from the battle. The strange airs of Yamu still boiled in Hope’s blood, decoding Brunhilde’s gaze. Forcing the barbarian to help was humiliating. She didn’t care if she lost or won, she just wanted to help. She would enjoy helping Hope. For no benefit to herself! Hope was dazed by the insight. Generosity was weakness in her court. In that second of hesitation, Brunhilde toppled forward and slammed Hope into the rough cobblestones.

The crowd’s roaring and complaining was a faraway sound to Hope, who was overcome with the bruised feeling of defeat. But unlike a duel with her tutors there was no humiliation or attacks whilst she was down. It was peaceful in a way. Apart from the heavy weight of the dull barbarian on top of her.

Brunhilde stood and picked Hope up off the floor, with a suspicious look on her face. “Did you let me win? Why did you pause?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve been looking at stars.” Hope said.

“I bested you, either way. You have to teach me those strikes.”

Hope reached up and patted Brunhilde on the arm. “Thank you.”

“For beating you? I’ve damaged your braincase.” Brunhilde grabbed her head to check for signs of blood.

“Get off me you hulk! A drafthorse would be a kinder doctor!” Hope cried.

“No, you’re fine,” Brunhilde said. She turned to the crowd to luxuriate in her victory.

After the celebrations of the crowd quieted, Hope pulled Brunhilde away towards her quarters. Gamblers and children chased after them, begging to Brunhilde to fight some more. Her face was flushed red with exertion and pleasure. Heads started to turn and watch her pass.

“It’s going to take time to teach you those blows,” Hope said. “You have to understand how the body works.”

“I understand how the body works. Blood fills the body with passion. Eyes are gemstones filled with fire to illuminate the world.” She grabbed a pastry from a peddler crying her name.

“Stop boasting about your ignorance. It’s going to take a long time to teach you those blows.”

“This ignorant barbarian bested you in fair combat. I knew I could. You fight well, gold-hair, don’t mistake me, but I’ve fought all my life.” She replayed the fight in her mind, noting the moments she could have fought better.

“So have I, just not physically.”

Brunhilde threw her arm over Hope’s shoulders.

“We should make our way south; I believe Alexander and their family kept on south for better fortune. Teach me on the way there.”

“I still have a, favour to ask.” Hope shuddered at having to say such a thing.

“Ask away. A victor can be generous with her riches.”

“I have to show you.”

In the wayhouse, Hope took Brunhilde to the top floor and ushered her into the room. “Don’t tread on anything.”

A few sheets moved in the breeze from the door opening and closing. Hope shifted them back into place.

“What’s that thing?” Brunhilde said, pointing to the telescope.

“For looking at the stars.”

“Our ancestors?” Brunhilde took a step forward towards it.

“Don’t tread on anything!” Hope shouted. Her face was flushed.

Brunhilde leaned against the door and sulked.

“Please. I’ve worked so hard on this. And it’s still not enough,” Hope said. She pounded her fist against her thighs and tears dropped. She shrieked and knelt to check her sorrow had not smudged any ink.

“What are you doing in here?” Brunhilde said. She had never seen Hope look so helpless.

“I need to finish this map. But I can’t. I need you to scribe some sigils to finish it. I’ll show you them, and you can write them down. It’s like scribing runes.”

“Runes! I can do that, of course.” Brunhilde smile smugly. She knelt down by the ink and quill. The feather was tiny in her hands. Which was the writing end, the sharp point or the vane? She flipped it this way and that. There was ink on the sharp end. Did ink come from inside birds then?

“I’ll show you how to write.” Hope said.

“I know how to write! Just because we carve runes into metal and stone, don’t think my people don’t know how to scribe on paper.” She waved the quill pen in her hand. “But show me your way.” She handed the feather over gingerly to Hope.

Hope massaged her temples and remembered her goal. To return home. To crush her mother once and for all. Teaching Brunhilde to write would be the least painful part of this quest.