The instant the absence of his signet registered, Godred's pupils dilated. His face cracking in anger was mirrored in his silver blade.
"You thief!"
The longsword's point burst from Godred's back-hip guard in a driving low thrust aimed straight for Evan's belly.
Evan's body reacted before his mind assembled the thought. Adrenaline flooded every capillary, clamping arteries and narrowing perception to a rifle scope of steel and moonwash.
He dropped his weight, short sword angled down, and caught Godred's thrust on the forte of his blade, sweeping it left in a hard beat that rang like the clanking of metal against metal.
Sparks died quickly against the rain; the rebound was felt clearly in Evan's arms, reminding him how raw strength always favors the longer weapon in a bind. But he persisted in his plight.
Godred snapped out of the bind, yanking his sword free and whipping it down toward Evan's left wrist.
Evan flinched back a pace, flicking his blade at Godred's leading hand and slicing a seam in the baron's gauntlet. Blood beaded at Godred's thumb before the rain washed it away.
Ignoring the wound, Godred glided sideways through the mud, met Evan's follow-up thrust with a flat parry, and instantly ripped a diagonal slash at Evan's collarbone.
Evan ducked, the edge only clipped a lock of his hair and bit deep into the tree behind him.
With his weapon compromised, Godred charged, slamming a shoulder into Evan's chest and yanking his sword out in the process. Their mail rang as they smashed together, swords suddenly awkward at such close range.
Shifting his grip to the middle of the blade, Godred brought the pommel down like a hammer. The iron cap crashed onto Evan's helmet with a dull clang, filling his vision with sparks.
Reeling but still moving, Evan shoved Godred backward to prevent further hits. They staggered into a rain-soaked mud pool where the mud turned treacherous for both of them.
Godred's boots skidded, and he lost half a step.
Evan taking advantage of the moment struck from below, his edge slicing across the already-cut gauntlet. Fresh blood splattered the churned earth, yet the baron soon held his footing and kept coming ignoring his wound in a fit of adrenaline.
Godred charged toward Evan, his blade thrusting forward like a spear. Evan beat the steel aside and lunged beneath it.
Godred seemed to have expected it as he slipped back, chopping at Evan's leading hand; the edge ripped across Evan's knuckles and slick blood mixed with rain on his hilt.
Gritting through the pain, Evan let the wounded hand jerk away, then snapped back in with a feint and drove a thrust for Godred's shoulder. The baron sidestepped; the sharp edge tore only his cloak.
Evan never meant to land the blow. He wanted to gain the ground he had lost within the muddy pool.
A moss-slick root lay behind Godred. Evan slashed toward the baron's eyes, forcing Godred to raise his guard and step back.
Godred's shin struck wood; he faltered, sword swinging wide for balance. Evan slipped left and sliced the baron's sword arm just above the vambrace. Blood flowed freely, and Godred's wrist stiffened.
Evan's chest burned; seven footsteps now separated him from the dome's transparent walls. Weakening fingers forced him to swap his sword to his left hand.
Godred saw it, assumed it to be a sign of Evan's weakness, and lunged. Evan parried Godred's downward thrust, clamped his battered right hand over Godred's pommel, and levered the sword away from his face.
Their faces are now inches apart.
"Return the seal," Godred rasped.
"No! I don't wish to die a dog's death. Not until I have avenged Miam"
Evan twisted himself at the waist and hurled the baron past him into a puddle. Mud and water sprayed. Evan bounded back until he hit the walls, violet light shimmered behind him on contact. He thumbed the signet's stud—words ready on his tongue.
Blood streaked Godred's gauntlet as he raised his sword overhead for a final cleaving stroke. Evan waited, eyes fixed on the blade. When it fell, he slipped aside, cut the injured hand again, and retreated three more steps. The signet's runes answered, brightening the ward with a pulsing glow.
"You'll kill yourself!" Godred shouted, driving forward on sheer will. Battered enough, finding it hard to continue.
Evan blocked two wild slashes, vaulted over a crumbling mound of mud, and raked steel across the back of Godred's thigh. The baron staggered. Evan took the opportune moment, lifted the seal, and whispered the oath.
Purple fire flared around his fist.
Godred lunged hoping that it was not too late.
A violent sonic lunged outward from the signet's rune carrying Godred along with it, throwing him against the dome's walls. The force finally collided with the dome forming cracks on the same.
Half-blinded by the flare, Evan wobbled to a guard, the signet scorching his palm. Above him the dome was fissuring like cracked glass; every split oozed brilliance, each pulse growing faster, louder until it all collapsed disappearing into nothingness.
Taking control of the situation, Evan reignited the hope in his heart. Hope of freedom, hope of life.
Across the churned mud the baron dragged himself upright, one knee planted, the other leg shaking where Evan's cut had bruised muscle against greave. His gauntleted hand groped for the longsword that lay half a pace beyond his reach. Fingers scraped mud, failed, tried again.
Evan's whole body hummed with the ward's dying heartbeat. He raised his short sword—an unsteady warning more than a threat.
"Stay down, brother. The next surge will kill you."
Godred's answer was a glare bright with stubborn fire. He lunged for the fallen blade, but pain snarled his limbs; he collapsed to his elbows, gasping. Rain washed the blood from his glove in thin pink rivulets.
It was time to run.
The fight's tempo no longer pulsed in steel or spell. It hammered in Evan's ribs, driving him onward into the storm, where escape and judgment waited in equal measure.