Hanno’s boots scuffed the stone as he passed the threshold to the second level, finding it to be a single large hall. Ornate reliefs of stone depicting devils slaying each other dripped with liquid shadow, though he saw that the shadow dripped up as well as down. There was an open gate on the other side of the hall and not a sign of anything here aside from the Night. The dark-skinned hero paused.

“This is a trap,” Hanno plainly said.

“Trap,” a voice behind him agreed, just as the arrow went through his back.

Biting down on a hiss of pain, he turned even as he considered the angle the arrow had punched through the plate at. Not just behind, but – Archer’s boots hit his face as she finished leaping down from above the gate he’d entered through, sending him tumbling in a pained tangle of limbs. A detonation of Light against his side slowed the spin, allowing him to land in a controlled skid, but it also pushed the arrow deeper. Archer landed gracefully, coat fluttering as she nocked and loosed another arrow in the span of a single breath. His body was already moving, but he corrected in time with another burst of Light. Not a single arrow but too, the second fired just as he began to move to swat away the first.

He angled himself so the first would miss and he could parry the second, narrowly. Archer sighed.

“You’re too quick in a small room,” she said. “A bow won’t work.”

“If I had not adjusted,” Hanno evenly said, “that second shot would have gone through my eye.”

“I aimed for the one opposite Cat’s,” Archer cheerfully informed him. “You know, to fit the whole opposite Wardens thing.”

A short pause, a brazen grin.

“You’re welcome.”

Of all the Woe, Hanno had always disliked the Archer the most. Even the Adjutant, for all his moral void and bland antipathy, was no match for the casual cruelty Archer delighted in. That she could be charming when she wished to be only made it worse, as it drew the eye away from the viciousness of her words and deeds. People, even those who should know better, forgave much of a witty woman in good humour. Hanno would not have made that mistake even if he did not have an arrow jutting out of his back. It went through plate like butter and made not a sound. Dangerous. He broke the arrow’s shaft but left the head in the flesh. He could fight through the pain, it was better to wait for proper healing.

“This has gone on for long enough,” Hanno curtly said. “Whatever grievance the Warden of the East has, there were better ways to handle it. If this does not end now, it will have consequences.”

The Archer casually tossed away her bow and loosed her quiver’s strap. There was something wrong, something off. His eyes followed her, trying to find a match for what his instincts screamed.

...

“Then there is no more point in speaking to you,” Hanno said. “This is my last warning, Archer: get out of my way.”

 “Shiny Boots,” she patiently said, “you must be confused. Do I look like someone who gives a shit about-”

Evil’s stories might be silenced, but a gloater was a gloater. He burst into movement while she was jeering, but he saw from the lack of surprise in her eyes that he’d not taken her aback. Unfortunate. He wouldn’t be able to end this quickly. He struck first, high and to the side, not committing to the blow. She gave ground lightly, circling him, and continued to give it the more he pressed forward. Hanno took a step towards the gate, testing her, but she did not get in the way. She wouldn’t force herself to engage on his terms even if he feigned the intention of going up without first putting her down. Archer was the most seasoned villain he’d fought since the Black Knight, and promised to be just as much of a headache.

Fine. He’d strike properly, then. His boot hit the floor and Light flared as he shot forward, feinting low and to the side to draw her blades. One did sweep down, lazily, but as he moved into his true blow – a deep thrust at belly height – she darted towards him. One moment her stance had been entirely loose, the heartbeat after her entire body was moving. Sensing the danger he hastily moved to the side, a razor-sharp blade harmless skidding against the side of his plate instead of plunging through his armpit, and shifted his footing so he could swing at her back. He’d expected her to dodge by rolling forward, using her momentum, but instead she dropped down.

The edge of his sword whispered just above her hair as she tried to sweep his legs. She was strong and the angle bade for him, so he took a step back just in time for her to rise into a blow at his throat. An opening, she’d overcommitted: he slammed his pommel onto her hand, forcing her to drop the longknife and was about to break her jaw on the second blow when he saw the glint of steel from the corner of his eye. He leaned back, the blade slicing through his cheek and lip, and before he could kick her in the stomach she darted back. But not, he saw, without first snatching up her dropped knife. Hanno’s hand came up to touch the side of his face, coming away red.

He could feel the blood going down his cheek, dripping down onto his armour. Over the white cloak.

“Those reflexes are a little much, Shiny Boots,” Archer complained. “That little mistake should have cost you an eye.”

She was a skilled combatant, Hanno thought, but not this skilled. She’d exploited his propensity to close distance so he could use Light to quickly end a fight to very nearly land a crippling blow two exchanges into their fight. That had not been improvised.

“You’ve trained to kill me,” Hanno calmly said.

“Figured I might have to, one of these days,” she casually shrugged. “If you ever got ideas about Cat being more trouble than she’s worth.”

Even that, though, should not be enough. She was good, but those instincts were- Hanno’s eyes narrowed as he studied her once more. The ease she handled those two longknives with, the way they just seemed to fit. Those instincts were not an Archer’s instincts.

“You’re becoming the Ranger,” Hanno said.

“Claimant,” Archer grinned, “but it’s early days yet. But enough yapping, yeah? We gonna do this or-”

It did not take him by surprise when she darted forward, any more than it had taken her. He knew better than to lower his guard against Indrani the Archer. Four steps forward, quick as an arrow, and when he raised his sword she smiled. Footing switching, she suddenly drew back and if Hanno had been striking her it would have gone wide. But he was not. Instead he was taking a step forward, closing the distance, and her weight was headed the wrong way. She kept drawing away, to make distance, and it was true that by simple physical ability she was slightly faster than him. Hanno, though, did not rely on his body alone.

A burst of Light behind his left foot pushed him forward, lengthening his stride, and though it shot his footing he adjusted with another burst of Light just under his right shoulder blade. The thrust ripped through her coat at shoulder height and broke chain mail, but delivered nothing more than bruises. Archer had reacted quickly, dropping down towards the floor, but Hanno was not finished. His steel-clad boot caught her in stomach, slamming her against the stone with a pained gasp. He heard one of the lower ribs break. She wore no gauntlets, the Sword of Judgement thought as his sword rose. Cutting through both wrists should end this.

Instead he had to duck back, a longknife spinning through where his face had been a heartbeat earlier, and she rolled back into a crouch. He pressed a step forward, ignoring the knife still in the air, but she darted back before he could close the distance. Her eyes weren’t even on his sword, he noticed, but on his footing. She’s watching for the Light. The acceleration trick would not take her by surprise twice. Still, the exchange had cost her a broken rib and half her longknives – which he heard clatter against the stone behind him. This was not going to end quickly, as he had feared, so he’d used Light to melt the knife she had thrown. It should tip the balance in his favour.

It would be close, Hanno thought, but he would get to the Warden of the East in time.

- Book 7, Interlude: Occidental I