Percy

The Courser’s ears flicked back as he stepped foot into the humid cavern. A myriad of sounds rose from the thick undergrowth surrounding him; endless potential threats that assailed his conscience and worried at his nerves. He stopped uncertainly, fluffy tail twitching. The dungeon felt like home, and yet every time he entered, it was somehow…changed. He mouthed at his bit, the jangling noise of its gold shanks doing little to calm him.

“Steady, my friend,” Sir Timothy muttered from astride him, and the Courser moved forward. “We’ve a long campaign ahead.”

His steady hoofbeats thudded across the well-trodden path, the marks of hundreds of adventurers that had come before him evident in the damp soil and the broken twigs of neighbouring plants. He wondered how long it’d been since the last one had come through; was he right behind another traveller, or was he the first in weeks? He looked up. The torches on the rough-quarried walls were lit, globs of pitch still large and burning brightly. He surmised that traffic through this passage was normal; they’d likely run into another party soon.

His blood was up, as it always was when they entered the dungeons. He lowered his muzzle to the ground, careful not to let his reins brush through the dirt - he knew how much effort the barding took to clean. The scent of other Coursers was relatively fresh.

“It’s looking fair, Sir Timothy. I daresay we’ve come at a good time.” Percy’s head rose as he marched through the tunnel, flickering light casting multiplying shadows down the corridor.

 “Aye. We’ll find many a soldier down here, lad.”

—————————————————

Lujayn

She rolled along at a steady walk, armour clanking in a familiar beat. The exit to the surface was near, now; she could smell the fresh air faint on the slight breeze that whispered through the dungeon. The torches in their sconces high up on the wall burnt bright; the lamplighter had been here recently, it seemed. She kept the torches to her left. It was the way of the savvy dungeoneer- there were a few things that were just common knowledge. Leave to the left. Any fledgling adventurer knew that.

She heard the muttering before she saw them. She stopped, not wanting the noise of her armour to give her away, and waited a few metres from the corner. There was no sense waiting so close that she startled them into combat.

The other being rounded the corner, and Lujayn had to work to keep her jaw from dropping.

“It seems as though we’ve found one, Sire,” the other Courser said.

Lujayn just stared. She’d never seen anything like it.

From what she could tell, the other Courser was wearing gear of the Ancient Times – the human times. Deep maroon and white barding, finely woven and intricately embroidered with gold filigree and fleur-de-lis, was draped over him. Atop it was bizarre sight- an ornate saddle, devoid of useful storage satchels, was secured under his belly with a series of straps. Stranger still was the small object perched on top of it, held in place by a loop of twine. A crudely-made doll- human enough, with four limbs and a head- sat astride the saddle as the warriors of old would.

“Friend or foe?” the Courser asked.

Too stunned to speak, Lujayn didn’t reply.

“Friend or foe?” the Courser said again, but this time, his voice had changed. It was lower, with a coarseness to it there hadn’t been before. “Come along, Percy, old fellow, let’s get a closer look.”

Bewildered, Lujayn’s ears pinned uneasily. Was this Courser talking to himself?

The red-and-white Courser approached her slowly, eyes narrowed and enormous ears flicking back and forth.

“She has no rider!” the Courser said, again in the deeper, rougher voice. “Charge!”

Before Lujayn had time to register what had happened, the Courser had drawn a massive sword and closed the distance between them, swinging in a spectacular arc towards her.

Lujayn dodged, rearing back on her hind legs. The sword whistled through the air just centimetres from where the underside of her neck had been. She leapt backwards, gaining herself a couple metres’ distance from the other horse.

This absolute lunatic of a Courser was trying to kill her!

“En garde!” the other Courser roared, and Lujayn’s eyes lit upon his sword once more, shining dangerously in the flickering torchlight. She could tell from the way he held it that this was no common idiot, as she’d previously thought; no, this was a relatively well-trained combatant.

It was a shame that she’d have to kill him.

She drew her sword with a pleasing metallic shiiing! and held it easily, the tip describing small, neat circles in the air. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed her opponent. He was around the same size, and equally heavily built; she’d have put him at maybe an inch taller than she. She might have the advantage in agility, what with him carrying a greatsword and all, but she’d count on him having a cracking strike.

He made the first move. A blur of movement as he rushed towards her was followed by a blinding series of strikes - swings, thrusts and backhand cuts melded together in a whirlwind of metallic clashing and glittering blades. Despite the extra reach of his sword, she parried easily, matching the speed of his attacks and backing away from him with a quick glance behind her.

Lulled into a false sense of confidence, her opponent redoubled his efforts, slightly more powerfully and, as Lujayn had predicted, more clumsily. He lunged forward as she took a half step backwards, his sword meeting no resistance through the air. His eyes widened in surprise, a split second before her sword looped under his and wrenched it from his grasp, ending its arc in a deadly point against his jugular.

“Who. The fuck. Are you?” Lujayn eked out around the handle of her sword.

“Umm.” The other Courser’s eyes were locked on the length of her sword, his ears back and tail bobbing worriedly. “Percy.”

“If I put this sword down, Percy, are you going to be stupid enough to fight me again?” Lujayn asked, eyes narrowed.

Percy gulped, his throat bulging perilously close to the tip of her sword. “Erm. No. Please put it down.”

Lujayn backed away from him, ears still flat against her head, and lowered the point of her sword to the ground.

Percy took the opportunity to retreat several feet from her, leaving his massive sword at her feet. “Thanks,” he said. Despite his size, he sounded younger than she’d thought.

Sheathing her weapon, Lujayn looked him up and down again. “Earlier, when you were talking with two voices…why?”

Percy looked suddenly abashed, his feet shuffling in the semi-packed dirt. “Sir Timothy,” he said, gesturing to the humanoid doll in his saddle.

Lujayn bit her tongue to hold back the bubble of laughter threatening to burst in her chest. By some miracle, she managed to keep a straight face. “I see.”

“It’s okay, you can laugh,” Percy said softly, his gaze on his feet. “Everyone does.”

Lujayn felt a pang of empathy for the younger Courser. “You know, when you fight, you should try not to look ahead to where you’re going to strike. It’s a dead giveaway.”

Percy’s head rose and he met her eye, surprised. “I didn’t realise I was doing that.”

“Pick up your sword,” she said. “And this time, do try not to kill me before I’ve taught you what I have to offer.”

Percy retrieved his sword, standing with its point to the ground.

“En garde."