Tamsin moved.
One moment, he stood six paces away. The next he was three, having closed the distance with a blur of short, quick steps that kicked up little puffs of dust.
Jacob's first instinct was to swing. The guidance rune tried to settle his arm into the cleanest diagonal cut.
He ignored it.
Instead, he stepped back and to the side, bringing his sword across his body in a tight block.
Steel hit steel. The impact jolted his arms, but the braking curve shunted some of it away, turning what should have been a bone-ringing clash into a hard push.
Tamsin's second blade kissed his sleeve and skated along the brigandine, seeking a gap. The coat's runes spread the force, turning the slice into a shove.
Jacob felt the armor take it as a dull thump against his ribs.
Tamsin flowed away before Jacob could riposte, circling, eyes narrowed.
"Not bad," the gnome said. "Again."
They came together a second time, faster. This time, Jacob let the sword's guidance do what it wanted.
His cut snapped into a cleaner arc than he could have managed alone, forcing Tamsin to respect the edge and knock it aside rather than ignoring it completely.
The scout twisted under the blade, dropped low, and Jacob barely brought his knee up in time.
Tamsin's knife bit into his greave with a ring that would have opened his leg to the bone without the rune work.
Pain bloomed, but it was from the pressure, not from a cut. His shin would bruise. It did not fold.
Jacob kicked Tamsin away on instinct. The gnome rode the blow into a roll and came up grinning.
"Definitely not bad."
The fight settled into a rhythm. Tamsin darted in and out, blades flashing. Jacob blocked, parried, and sometimes simply let the armor earn its keep.
A stab to the gut that would have gutted him turned into a breath-stealing punch. A slice at his arm left his bicep numb but not open.
Each time, he felt the patterns catch the danger and spread it out until it was thinned into something manageable.
He was still losing ground.
Tamsin was faster, lighter, and infinitely more experienced. Every time Jacob thought he saw an opening, it turned out to be bait.
Every time he tried to press, Tamsin was gone, sliding out of reach.
Sweat started to sting Jacob's eyes. His arms burned, and his breathing grew ragged.
Tamsin's did not.
A feint to the shoulder drew Jacob's guard high. The real attack came in low, a hook of the gnome's foot behind Jacob's ankle.
For an instant, Jacob thought he could ride it out. Then the world tilted, and the sky jumped into view.
He hit the dirt on his back. Air rushed out of him, but the force of the blow was dissipated by his enchantments, allowing him to recover quickly.
His sword arm started to move, but Tamsin was already there, one knee on Jacob's coat, knife poised against the side of his throat where there was no plate.
The blade did not touch his skin. It hovered close enough that Jacob could feel the cold coming off the metal in the early winter morning.
"Stop," Carlos called.
The field went quiet except for Jacob's harsh breaths.
Tamsin held the position for a second longer, making sure the lesson landed, then slid the knife away and stood. He offered Jacob a hand.
"On your feet, boy," the gnome said. "You did not embarrass yourself."
Jacob gripped the small, strong hand and let himself be hauled up. His legs wobbled, and his ribs ached. His shin felt like it had kissed a rock.
He looked down at his armor.
Not a single plate was cut through.
Carlos walked onto the field, boots crunching in the frost-hardened dirt.
"Well," he said. "You lost."
Jacob dragged in a breath.
"I noticed," he rasped.
Carlos's mouth twitched.
"But you did not fold in one hit. You didn't panic, and your armor took blows that would have turned a normal village boy into a smear. Tamsin?"
The gnome sheathed his blades.
"If he comes in behind us, stays where I tell him, and understands that if I say lie down, he lies down, I don't see him dying on the first floor," Tamsin said. "As long as he accepts he is baggage that can swing a sword, not a front liner."
Jacob opened his mouth, then shut it. Baggage that could swing a sword was still inside the dungeon.
A faint, almost inaudible ripple brushed the air around the party again. The dwarf shifted his weight.
The elf's eyes unfocused for a moment as if she were reading something that hovered just out of sight. Carlos's jaw worked, then settled.
He looked back at Jacob.
"I will make you an offer," Carlos said. "My party returns to that gate at sunrise tomorrow. After I speak with your parents to get their permission, you can join us. There are conditions, though. You will stay in the rear, keep your mouth shut, follow my lead, and avoid taking any unnecessary risks. Your only job is to pay attention to the surroundings so you can return to your farm in one piece. Is that clear?"
Jacob's heart pounded so hard he almost could not hear the rest.
"Understood," he said.
"Good." Carlos landed a heavy hand on Jacob's shoulder with enough force to make him stumble, but the reinforcement runes in the coat caught the force and spread it across his back. "Now get yourself home. I would rather not have your father marching into town to demand my head."
Jacob forced a lopsided grin.
"He told me to yield if the fight turned into a disaster," Jacob said. "Technically, you ended it before I had to."
Carlos laughed, a short and sharp sound. "That puts you miles ahead of the usual idiots I see. Most boys your age think bleeding is a requirement for bravery."
Jacob returned his sword to its scabbard and began the walk back to the farm. His muscles were starting to stiffen, but the ache felt earned.
By the time he cleared the edge of town and the fields opened up toward home, his limp had faded to a spring.
He had lost.
But he had also gotten exactly what he wanted.