Strad fingered the silver chain around Mora's neck and pulled it free of her tunic. He examined the small circle of crystal with a derisive sneer. "The crest of the Elenalië, eh? If you're on their side, you'd better get on out of 'ere before I lock you up with your friends."
Mora stood her ground. "You've no more brains than a toad does if you think I'm going to do what you say. My friends are not going to stay in your pathetic excuse for a prison any longer than it takes me to get back there and break them out!"
"Argh! You're all the same, all of you!" He spat in her face and then gave her a shove. Mora stumbled and fell on her behind, splattering mud everywhere. Before he could open his mouth to utter one more curse she was on her feet again, unsheathing both her knives. She stared straight into his eyes without speaking, anger making her blood roar in her ears.
Smirking, Strad toyed with the rusty hilt of his sword. "Oh, you wanna fight then, is that it? Think you can best me?" He was watching her closely. "I never say no to a battle. But I daresay your sort would have little skill in such brutal ways, eh?"
Mora clenched her blades tighter, but remained still. She didn't want to fight if she could avoid it, but she could see that the idea of one was appealing more and more to Strad.
"Tell you what," he said. "We'll go back to the village. If you can fight me and win, then I'll release your friends and all three of you can be on your merry way."
"And if I lose?"
"I'm not sure yet." Strad grinned, showing a mouthful of broken, rotted teeth.
