He wielded a spear. From where it had originated, Nessalir could not say. One moment, the Green Man's hands were empty, and then in the blink of an eye he held a long ashen staff tipped with an ebony point, flecked with amber.

  The Green Man thrust his weapon at her as he leaped, and Nessalir reacted before she had fully understood what was happening. She pivoted to the side, turning her body and bringing up her blade to deflect his attack. Huunang whinnied in alarm as a fight broke out mere feet from him.

  "You are fast," said the Green Man. "Your instincts are good, and you trust them well. I am impressed."

  "Really?" asked Nessalir. "That was all it took?"

  The Green Man did not reply. He spun on her, thrusting the spear once more. Nessalir twisted. He was coming at her from her left, and her sword wouldn't reach his weapon in time to block this attack. So instead, she brought up her hand, covered in the red scales she'd inherited from her draconic father, and relied on their protection as she batted the polearm away.

  His grip was firm. Nessalir found herself needing to exert great strength against his blow. She succeeded in diverting his attack, but the strain on her arm and shoulder reinvigorated her freshly-healed shoulder wound. Gritting her teeth, Nessalir swung her sword against the Green Man, hoping to end this fight quickly and decisively before the bite on her shoulder might reopen.

  But her foe was no novice, and he was no fool. He saw her attack, and what's more she could see in his eyes that he'd noticed the way she favored her right side. He danced nimbly out of the way of her blade, moving with a grace that belied his great form. Nessalir recovered her balance quickly and prepared her defense even as he rushed in for another strike.

  "A weakness?" asked the Green Man as his spear narrowly missed Nessalir's shoulder. She had managed to dodge it, and now she gripped the haft with her scaled hand. "Or a wound?"

  "The second," said the drakkowar woman. "I was bitten by a creature deep underground. It took a few days for the injury to heal well enough for travel."

  "But it is still fresh," said the Green Man, "and still you travel. Perhaps your instincts are not so good after all."

  He pulled his spear back—or attempted to. Nessalir kept her grip tight on the weapon, and the Green Man frowned when he recognized she still held it firm. He pulled again, and Nessalir braced herself and pulled back.

  The two combatants matched their strengths, and the Green Man seemed surprised at how well Nessalir held her own.

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  "Is this wise, with your shoulder the way it is?" he asked.

  In response, Nessalir flashed him a savage grin. "I am a mercenary," she told him. "If I were a wise woman, I would retire."

  Before the Green Man could respond, Nessalir called upon the inner fires within her, felt the rush of heat in her chest, and directed it upward through her throat and out her mouth. Her breath emerged in a burst of flame, for an instant casting the forest all around them in orange light and long shadows. The Green Man's eyes widened in shock, and he fell back, loosening his grip on his spear as he did so, and Nessalir took the opportunity to wrench it from his hands.

  In a single, smooth motion, she tossed the long weapon to the side, heard it clattering against the trees, and ran forward while bringing her sword up in a swooping arc. The blade she aimed directly at her opponent's exposed neck, and the blow would doubtless have been true—had he not at the very last moment blocked her strike with his forearm.

  The blade cut deep into his flesh, and dark blood oozed from the wound like sap. Nessalir tried to pull her sword from him, but found that it was stuck, as though gripped by the trunk of a tree. With a wild grin of his own, the Green Man jerked his arm back, pulling Nessalir toward him, and swung a fist directly at her face.

  Her red hand caught his fist, and the impact of his punch sent painful reverberations down her bones and numbed her palm. Nessalir held her sword in one hand and his fist in the other, and she dug her black claws into his knuckles, drawing even more of that thick, sap-like blood.

  "First blood is mine," said the drakkowar. "Is that not enough?"

  "If you wish to end this duel, you need only yield," taunted the Green Man. "Some mild wounds are of no concern to me."

  "I can assure you that this won't end well for you."

  The Green Man laughed. "Your hands are occupied, dragon woman, and soon they shall be overpowered! What else can you do against me?"

  "Why would you assume my hands are my only weapon?" Nessalir asked, and she flicked her tail upward over her shoulder. His eyes tracked the movement, and that distraction was all she needed.

  Nessalir summoned another burst of fiery breath, directly into the Green Man's face, and with all her strength she wrenched the sword out of his arm. The Green Man stumbled backward, embers in his beard, and Nessalir pressed her advantage. She shoved her shoulder against him, heedless of the pain, and he fell onto his back against the forest floor.

  The drakkowar planted her boot upon his chest, and she pressed the tip of her blade against his throat.

  "Do you yield?" she asked.

  The Green Man laughed. "Yes," he said. "I suppose I do. Congratulations, Nessalir the Red. You have bested this forest's sworn guardian."

  Their eyes met, and Nessalir saw only honesty in his gaze—and perhaps a little admiration. She smiled, withdrew her weapon, and stepped away.

  "Now," she said as the Green Man climbed to his feet, "tell me of these men who would hunt down the unicorns?"