A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [149]
Conrad nodded as if this met his expectations. “Shall we, then?” he asked, as if they were about to begin a game of checkers.
One thing Jason had to give Duke Conrad—he showed absolutely no fear. His nonchalance was unnerving.
Conrad and Jason took their places. Conrad stared coldly. Jason knew Conrad would kill him given the chance. But Jason hoped to end the contest without anybody dying. If he could hurt Conrad enough to get the upper hand, hopefully the duke would yield.
Jason felt sweaty. He rubbed his palms against his trousers. This was a different kind of nervous anticipation than he had ever experienced. No points would be tallied today. If he threw well he would live. If not, he would die. A strange tension hummed in his mind and body. His senses were in overdrive. The uneasiness he had sometimes felt before a ball game seemed ridiculous by contrast.
Dershan held a handkerchief aloft and let it fall. Jason hastily grabbed a ball in each hand. As a pitcher he had hit a batter once or twice, but now he would be trying to inflict serious injuries. Plus the batter would be throwing back.
As Jason released his first ball, Conrad’s first ball breezed past his ear. Conrad twisted in an attempt to avoid Jason’s first throw, but the ball struck him solidly, high in the back. Jason shifted the second ball to his right hand. It missed Conrad when he ducked. Jason lunged sideways in an attempt to dodge Conrad’s next throw, which glanced off his side, stinging but not stunning him. Jason hurriedly grasped for more balls.
In order to hamper Conrad’s ability to throw, Jason had hoped to bombard his arms, but in the heat of the moment it was difficult to aim with any precision. In unison they threw their next balls. Conrad’s went wild, missing by a few feet. Jason’s tagged the duke squarely on the collarbone. Jason threw another and barely missed the duke’s elbow. Conrad’s next throw was made awkward by his injury, but the ball hit Jason on the forearm, hurting plenty.
Jason snatched two more balls. Conrad fumbled as he reached for more. Jason remembered a trick he had used during water balloon fights. With his left hand he lobbed a yellow ball underhand fairly hard. It glanced off the high ceiling on its way toward Conrad, whose eyes followed it while he grasped for balls. Before the first ball fell, Jason whipped the second ball sidearm as hard as he could. It caromed off Conrad’s head, and the duke flopped to the floor.
Jason gasped. He had been aiming for the duke’s throwing arm, but Conrad had ducked right into the path of the throw. The ball had connected with so much force that Jason paused for a moment, grimacing in empathy. Tark noisily cleared his throat, and Jason hastily grabbed two more balls, holding them ready.
Except for his chest rising and falling, Conrad lay motionless.
Breathing hard, his arm and side stinging, Jason remained poised to throw. The duke stayed on the floor. Was he really unconscious? Could the duel be over?
Jason glanced at Dershan. “Is that good enough?”
Count Dershan looked pale. “Duke Conrad asked for no quarter. It is your right to ensure his demise.”
Jason wondered if Count Dershan coveted Conrad’s job. “I think I’ll take my chances. I was forced into this duel. I don’t want to kill Duke Conrad. What happens to him now is no longer any of my business.”
“As you wish,” Dershan acquiesced.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jason said shakily, sickened by the brutality but relieved to be standing and relatively uninjured.
“Right,” Tark grunted. “I’ve had my fill of Harthenham.”
“Farewell,” Dershan said. “I’ll have the drawbridge opened. You comprehend that your asylum