Sherry's first impression was that this woman was a warrior and not an ordinary one at that. She was easily over six feet tall, with arms and legs that were pure muscle, and her abs were noticeable even at this distance. The scars decorating her body painted a picture of someone who’s survived fights with things bigger than Sherry, and the tribal-style tattoo of a large dragon across her left arm seemed to confirm it.

“Now, I bet you’re wondering about the fire?” She stepped forward as the flames continued to surround them, forming a circle around them. “Yes, that’s me. A gift from my adoptive thunder, but don’t worry about it beyond the fact that I can use it on you.”

“You’re a mercenary,” said Sherry, hardly deducing much, unable to think of what else could an elf like this be doing in the middle of this war zone.

“That I am,” she admitted freely. “The name is Taniwha, like the great serpents from my native land who raised me.” She pointed at the skull on her shoulder, as if for proof. “Some of the people here today are doing it out of anger or the promise of power, but me, I came here for you.”

“For me?” Sherry asked, surprised. “Did my… father hire you?”

“I don't know anything about your father, but I assure you the creature that paid me does not have any spawn to speak of. See, like you said, I am a mercenary by trade, going around the world looking for one thing, and it’s not gold but a challenge. A real fight,” said Taniwha, raising a fist to emphasize her point.

“The dragons I grew up with would challenge each other to prove their mettle and establish their social hierarchy. It’s part of their culture, and it is now a part of me. I was told by my employer that you were a proper warrior. World traveled and trained in many disciplines. The most dangerous of all the Royal Knights of Santa Fae.”

Sherry was growing weary of her speech and instead turned to look around for a way out of the ring of fire, trying to catch a glimpse of Mort or anyone. It was hard to say what was happening, she could still hear the sound of gunfire slowly moving away as the mob moved closer to the end of the street toward their target. She should be out there, trying to prevent this disaster from growing worse.

“You listening to me, Rull girl? Because so far I’ve killed eight of you and I'm bored as hell.”

That caught Sherry’s attention again, and she glowered at Taniwha with an anger that surprised her. She had no love lost with her fellow knights, but they were still her brothers and sisters in arms, she would not simply let their butchering go unpunished. This woman had chosen her enemy poorly.

“You wish to fight, bitch? Take out your sword and stop talking.”

Taniwha hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing at Sherry’s words and the sudden venom in her voice, but then she grinned like a little girl who had just found a new plaything. She reached for the hilt poking out of her back and with a single swing brought forward her gigantic sword.

“I know you knights prefer to use magic to actual weapons,” said Taniwha, condescending. “It’s so much easier to just wave your hand than it is to swing a sword. This beauty is mine, do you even know what kind it is?”

Sherry frowned and waved her hand for a complex spell of retrieval that few elves knew, her hands went through the air as if they were touching water and burrowed deep into a pocket dimension, and with a single dramatic movement, she pulled out her sword. The black blade gleamed with the glow of the fire around them as Sherry moved effortlessly in the air.

“Yes, I know what a hand and a half sword is,” said Sherry. “Where I’m from we also call them ‘montante’, though I know many humans were fond of calling them ‘bastard swords’…is that something you identify with?”

Taniwha seemed soured from being robbed of the opportunity to talk about her weapon more than by Sherry’s insult. “Well, I cannot fault you for it, as it is also my favorite kind of sword. The dwarf who made this armor you praised also made me mine. It has yet to fail me once.”

Sherry took her stance, sword at the ready-to-counter. “Now if you are done bragging, come and get your first real fight in a hundred years.”

Taniwha laughed, a harsh but joyous sound of delight. “Oh, the tongue on you! You’d put to shame half the beasts I grew up with!” She whipped her long mane of hair as she cracked her neck, getting ready for the fight.

“I give you credit for it, it gets the fire inside me roaring! Now let’s see if you burn with it,” and with a speed, Sherry could hardly credit for one so large, she rushed forward and swung her monster sword with a force that shook her.

But Sherry was no pushover, she held her ground and with all her strength stopped the blow cold. Taniwha looked surprised for a moment, but only a moment. She immediately continued her attack with a second powerful stroke from above, but Sherry’s sword was like an iron wall.  She would not be moved.

Taniwha tried a low angle next, but Sherry was faster and parried it, her muscle aching from the force of impact, but Sherry did not waste time and reversed the swing to try and slash her midriff, feeling she had her now. However, Taniwha jumped away at the last second, seemingly delighted to find resistance. 

No matter what she tried though, Taniwha would not give her an opening. She could defend just as well and seemed to be only growing happier with every attack Sherry tried, delighted in being pushed backward. When they locked blades again, she suddenly reached with her left hand and grabbed where the blades connected, forcing them to hold together when Sherry would have pushed back.

“You are better than advertised, Sherr’Yand’Rull. It was well worth the trip to cross blades with you!” said Taniwha, a big smile on her face.

Sherry couldn’t help but take the compliment and smirk in return, “and you are not completely without talent either.”

“Let’s turn up the heat,” said Taniwha, and Sherry noticed a strange red glow starting at her throat and rising towards her mouth. She felt a sudden surge of fear and her brain understood. It was by pure instinct that she jumped away in time to avoid the torrent of flames that spewed from Taniwha's mouth like a dragon.

She growled as the red flames shot out like a cannon, the spot where Sherry had been standing was scorched black in an instant. Not in her five centuries of life had she seen an elf wield flames that way, very much like her namesake. 

Taniwha fell to one knee and snarled at her, mouth open to show her the licking flames inside her throat, ready to shower Sherry again at her command. To call her feral would be an understatement, and Sherry realized she had never faced anyone quite like her before. Taniwha was hard to predict, her movements felt wild and impulsive, but just as deadly as any master of the sword. She must have developed her fighting style after living with the dragons and training with different styles like Sherry had.

“That was just a taste,” she said, licking her lips in anticipation. “If I push myself, I can let out a much bigger flame.”

“Then it is only fair I match you,” said Sherry, and she channeled the magic from her hands and into her sword, igniting the blade with a raging blue fire of her own.

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” shouted Taniwha, following suit. Her sword blazing with the same red fire she had vomited earlier. 

Sherry had heard about this, that the dragon had their own well of magic to draw from, that’s how they breathed fire. But they guarded it with jealousy, telling no one, not even the Queen of the Elves about it. She could scarcely believe they had opened it up to an elf, but here was living proof. She must have been raised among them, surviving terrible trials. 

The constant strikes of Taniwha's imposing sword forced Sherry into submission and down on one leg, using her forearm for support against the force of the blows. She would have lost her hand already if not for her armor, which was not very comforting at the moment. The floor cracked under her with the pressure, her metal boot heel digging into the hard cement until it broke.

Taniwha broke off the attack to low-kick her instead, catching her unprepared straight in the chest, sending her flying and crashing against the flames. She was surprised by how solid they were, she bounced upon contact like hitting a solid wall even as she felt them burn her cape. Sherry needed a change of tactic, and so smashed her hand to the ground, channeling the magic through her arm to cause a tremor that shook the earth violently. 

The buildings around them shuddered loudly from the earthquake Sherry was generating, and Taniwha buried her sword in the ground for support, trying not to lose her balance. Sherry saw her opening, and jumped forward, leaving her sword behind to focus all her strength into a single punch to Taniwha’s face. There was no time to block it, and Sherry felt with satisfaction as her armored hand connected with the dragon woman’s skull.

The blow did some damage, although Taniwha did not go flying, she did hit the floor, her mouth bleeding. However, when she looked up at Shery she was smiling still, unbothered by the pain. “That was nicely done,” she said, her voice low but excited. “You abandoned your weapon and risked a deadly counterattack just to draw blood…that is how it should be”.

Taniwha got to her feet, wiping the blood from her lips before spitting the rest of it out. “We gamble everything when we battle, even our life because nothing can compare with that rush when you fight someone you know could kill you. You feel it too, don't you? You want to be pushed to the edge and find out which of us is the strongest. Let’s do it, Sherr’Yand’Rull. Let’s find out who stands at the top of this hill!”

Sherry said nothing for a moment, looking at her opponent for the first time with a different emotion. “I think you have mistaken me. I am not like you.”

Taniwha’s eyes narrowed, but she did not interrupt Sherry, who proceeded to take off her helmet. “Fighting is not something I love. I learned to do it to fight a war I did not ask for, and I got good at it so I didn’t have to see any of my family die…not that it mattered in the end.”

Now she focused the magic on her hands again, and let it concentrate there until both her closed fists erupted into blue flames. “I do what I do so no one has to die.”

Many forgot that just because they cast the fire it could still burn them, and Sherry felt the searing heat in both hands now, but she pushed the pain away from her mind and raised both fists as she took a fighting stance. “I am sanctioned to take lives but I never do, and I do not want yours. If you want mine, then let us test who has greater will. Drop your sword, light up your fists, and show me if that desire to crush me is bigger than mine to save the people of this city.”

It was a gamble, Sherry had realized that Taniwha was simply a better swordswoman than she was. She had much more experience and favored the weapon more, but no one had bested Sherry in an honest fistfight yet. She hoped to draw her in, appealing to her fighting spirit, posing a challenge she could not resist. And to her relief, she saw Taniwha smile wider than ever in response, rising to her feet and growling loudly as she ignited her fists.

“I will break you and that iron will with my bare hands then, Sherr’Yand’Rull,” said Taniwha, standing inches in front of Sherry now, fists ready. “ I advise you hit to kill because I will.”  

“We will see,” said Sherry.

They stood in silence for a minute that felt like an hour, their bodies almost touching, hands-on fire and both feel that pain. The world seemed to disappear, nothing existed in that moment except them. Their eyes met, each searching for weakness in the other and finding none. They were waiting for a sign, any sign, that would let them break that pause…and it came when a small gust of wind blew past them.

Taniwha hit first, her big fist pressing against Sherry’s mouth, cracking her lip. But Sherry responded just as fast, connecting with a left straight to Taniwha’s cheek, and she felt one of her teeth loosened. The fire in their hands burned the skin as well, which hurt more than Sherry expected, but she never let a single whimper escape her as she continued to get hit, and neither did Taniwha. They pummeled each other’s heads over and over again, their skulls rumbling, and Sherry felt disoriented after a while. It took her a moment to recognize the strong smell in the air was her own singed hair and skin.

Sherry lost all sense of time, and no longer could feel the pain in her hands or even the blood dripping from the side of her head. Her left eye was almost shut tight from the bruising, but she could still see well enough to notice Taniwha wasn’t doing any better. Part of her mouth had melted together from the flames, and she too had blood flowing freely all over her face.  

She wasn’t smiling anymore, just panting for breath as much as Sherry was, her arms dangling uselessly. It was a miracle that either of them was still conscious after that many blows to the head, Sherry had lost track after thirty. Now it was just a question of who would fall first.

“Fall, damn you,” said Taniwha, echoing Sherry’s thoughts, but she sounded rather desperate.

Now it was Sherry’s turn to smile, which caused her lips to bleed more, but she didn't care. It was worth it to see Taniwha’s angry expression at her defiance. “Then break me.”

Taniwha roared, and with all the energy she had left, she aimed for Sherry’s head, but her anger had given her away, and even with one good eye left, Sherry saw her moment. She dodged her attack, swiveling almost drunkenly to the right, and with one last step forward, gave it her all for one last punch across Taniwha’s face. 

They both fell to the ground, but Taniwha was done. Sherry had felt her jaw dislocate on impact and was now unconscious on the stone floor. Sherry couldn't claim to be much better, but she still felt the urge to laugh weakly at the knowledge that she had won. Perhaps she did understand Taniwha better than she thought, it had been a good fight.