THE MOMENT
She appeared in the shadow cast by the elder's home. Formed from the shade itself, she stood tall and pale with glowing golden eyes and curling bone-white ram horns growing out of her head. There was little doubt she was summoned by the old man's dying breath.
"Ballisea," Damien repeated the name in awe, and he heard his men take a step back when she smiled at them.
"This looks fun," she said. "Hmmm, the sides are uneven, though," she said. She idly waved her hand in their direction, and suddenly, two of Damien's crusaders were standing next to her. "These two are on my team," she said. She made another gesture that elicited a brief scream of terror from each of them. A flash of darkness enveloped them, and once it was gone, two silent skeletons stood in their armor. "What's the game?" she asked.
Damien had seen a lot of things he couldn't explain. It was easy to chalk them up to a higher power, and his faith held steady, but this was an entirely different situation. He and his men had been dispatched to subjugate the small tribal village and cleanse the villagers of their belief in a pagan god. It was easy to mock the primitive faith of the elder even as the dying man prayed. Except, the man's god actually appeared. Damien couldn't help but wonder where his own was.
"We came to spread our message of hope, but I can see that's not necessary for these fine, upstanding people," he had a lot to think over now, and it wouldn't help to drag out a losing situation. He could regroup in the kingdom and revisit their options once he got his remaining men home safely.
"I don't care about them," Ballisea tilted her head slightly, and the gathered crowd of citizens vanished. "I chose the teams; you get to choose the game," she said. Damien considered himself astute, and he'd already noted several clues. He had a dozen knights with him, and she only took two. She wasn't trying to even out the teams, it was a subtle show of force. Despite that, she was offering him a chance to name the game, based on some notion of rules or honor. And, he had his own version. If she wanted him to name a game, he could name anything.
"Single combat, you and me to the death," he said. "If I win, I go free along with my men. If I lose, I'm the only one that loses, and my men go free."
"I get nothing if I lose, and I get to kill you if I win?" Ballisea shook her head with a smile. "Not to brag, but you literally cannot kill me. If both winning conditions cannot be met, we can't have a game. Still, I will admit combat does sound amusing, even if the terms are skewed in your favor. I propose a counteroffer." The two skeletal knights disappeared from her side and were returned to Damien's side right in front of him. They appeared with skin intact, and both of them fell to the floor in tears once they realized they were whole again.
"I return your soldiers and get to name a champion in exchange. Someone that is killable, maybe even by you," she laughed.
"You cannot choose me or my men," Damien said. Ballisea smiled and nodded.
"That wouldn't be any fun anyway. I promise my champion is someone with whom you have no history. No surprises from anywhere in your Kingdom," she said. "My newest champion is still rather unsure, leaving me unsure. If they can't defeat you, they don't deserve the honor," she said. Her motives in sharing that were clear, but Damien wasn't going to be fooled into lowering his guard.
If anything, her assurances only made him want to fight harder. He volunteered, resigned to giving his life for his men when he challenged Ballisea. But maybe, just maybe her new champion was a fight he could win. Silence lingered for a moment before Damien realized he was the final permission.
"I accept the terms of fighting your champion," he said.
"Then, I accept your proposed winnings. If you kill my champion, you and your men may go free. If you get killed, your men may leave in peace."
"So, where's your champion?" Damien asked as he stepped forward.
"Right...," Ballisea gestured at the empty air in front of him, then a black portal opened. A ten-year-old girl with dusty blonde hair walked out of it with a big smile. "...there." she said.
"23...," Ballisea addressed the girl. "This nice gentleman has challenged you to the death."
"Okay," the girl giggled. "Why death, though?"
"I don't know," Ballisea laughed. "It was his idea, it sounded fun."
"Wait, wait.," Damien waved his hands to be sure he had their attention.
"Your champion is a little girl?" He couldn't even begin to process the rest of their interaction. Did he really not have to invoke a fight to the death?
"It's far more complicated than that," Ballisea replied. "However, that is the most amusing interpretation, considering she's going to kill you." Damien wasn't a fool, and he wasn't going to underestimate an opponent no matter what she looked like. He drew his sword, braced his shield, and nodded along with a small, habitual prayer.
"God grant me strength...," he uttered.
"I can't, I'm on her side," Ballisea said. Then, she quickly shook her head. "Oh, sorry, you weren't talking to me, were you?" she asked as her smile grew broader. "I just didn't see any other gods here."