The Exile Read Online Free Page B

The Exile
Book: The Exile Read Online Free
Author: Steven Savile
Tags: Science-Fiction
Pages:
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you've drawn Wide Mouth and he's ranting about how it should be a forfeit because you aren't there."
    "Well let's go put him out of his misery shall we?" Sláine said.
    The three of them strode through the village and out to the tournament fields. Heads turned and seeing Sláine, eyes widened. He walked tall, proud, Fionn and Dian at his side. He ignored the whispers. His eyes sought out Cullen Wide Mouth, who could easily have been renamed Cullen Slack Jaw when he saw his opponent striding out of the crowd to face him.
    Sláine didn't say a word.
    He strode into the centre of the fighting circle, bowed to Brand, Wide Mouth's maternal uncle, who served as judge, and dropped into a tight crouch, circling, circling, lips curled back in a feral snarl.
    Cullen stood on the edge of the circle, staring at the beast that was Sláine. He moved hesitantly, dropping into a crouch and scuffling forwards, fingers clawing at the dirt.
    The pair circled each other warily, each weighing the other up, looking for a weakness. Sláine's bone-white grin was stark against the blue woad. He curled his lips back in a feral snarl and slapped his own face. Then he winked at Cullen, knowing that Wide Mouth's temper would get the better of him. It was almost too easy to goad him into losing his concentration.
    Cullen slapped out at the side of Sláine's face but Sláine rolled around the blow, coming to his feet six feet from where he had been, and threw his head back, howling at the sun.
    To a man, the spectators were silent. No one dared utter a word for fear of breaking the spell the combatants had cast over the scene. It was almost like watching a dance, such was the grace and fluidity of the boys as they feinted, blocked and rolled around blows, neither gaining the upper hand for more than a few seconds at a time.
    Sláine reared up, luring Cullen in. Wide Mouth lunged, throwing himself forwards, off balance. Sláine drew in a huge breath, feeling the surge of earth power infusing his blood as he gave in to his anger. It gave him strength beyond anything he had ever felt in his life. When he came down on Wide Mouth's head it was with all the ferocity of a cudgel of stone, slamming both fists into the hard bone of Cullen's skull. The blow sent Wide Mouth reeling, spitting cracked and broken teeth as he tried to gather his wits about him. Wide Mouth struggled to get his legs under him. His left leg twitched uncontrollably. He was beaten, badly, but his body refused to lie down. All that remained was for Sláine to move in for the coup de gras. There was nothing pretty about it. He reached out, grabbing a handful of Cullen's hair and pulled him off balance. Brand moved to intercede but Sláine was determined to win, not be given victory. He spidered sideways, scuttling on all fours and keeping just beyond the judge's reach, forcing Brand to drop a strip of white cloth between Sláine and Cullen. The cloth signified the end of the fight.
    Sláine saw it fall and ignored it.
    The power of the earth roared through him. He was the mountain. He was the river. He was Sláine. No one would take this victory from him!
    He roared forwards, spitting and hissing like a man possessed.
    Wide Mouth was too disorientated to do anything but slump into Sláine's forearm as he brought it crashing into his face. Blood sprayed from Wide Mouth's broken nose as the cartilage ruptured and smeared across his face. Brand grabbed at him, but before the warrior could haul Sláine off he finished it with a scything kick that took Cullen's legs out from under him and left him on his back in the dirt, groping out desperately for something to hold on to as his world spun away from him.
    Wide Mouth wasn't just beaten; he was humiliated.
    Sláine stood over his fallen enemy, blood singing through his veins.
    Brand made to grab him as Sláine threw his head back and roared, beating his fists off his chest.
    The crowd had fallen utterly silent.
    They stared at the painted Sláine as

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