The Duelist

by Eric Vall

  “Thanks,” I grunted at the falcon-man as he gently placed her back into my arms.

  “Let me show you to the guest quarters,” Shale-Lea said with a somewhat sad smile. “My brother might be able to find some food aboard as well. After you get the Lady settled, please dine with me in the salon.”

  “Really, though,” I said and cleared my throat. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “It is my pleasure, Asher,” the beautiful phoenix-woman replied and then clapped her gloved hands so two attendants could lead Zoie and me to the stern where the main quarters were located.

  The room when we entered was already turned down for the night, and the big bed draped in maroon silk-like fabrics with a mound of fluffy white pillows looked like it was sent directly by angels.

  I hurried to lay my wife down on the warm bed as the attendants helped me with our travel cloaks.

  One of the attendants, a timid mouse-like girl, set a bowl of water and towels next to the table by the bed.

  “Thank you,” I told the attendants as they bowed out of the room and left us alone. When the door closed, I sunk down to sit on the side of the bed next to Zoie, and I just watched her chest rise and fall as she slept the sleep of the truly restful.

  I wanted to make her more comfortable, so I undid the buckles across her chest that strapped the leather pauldrons to her shoulders, and then I unlaced her belt and boots. When I took her right sock off, the healing line of where Bala Ren’s ring sliced her foot caught my attention. I stroked my thumb over the wound and reminded myself not to let my guard down completely.

  When my cat-wife was finally settled into the bed, I pulled up a cushioned stool so I could sit beside her and try to dab the smudges of dirt off her pretty face.

  “Alex?” she murmured as her eyelids fluttered open, and she gripped my wrist. “Where are we?”

  “Shh,” I soothed her panic as I put the rag away and held her hand. “We are safe for now.”

  “I remember a boat,” she said with a frown.

  “Now, we’re on a bigger one,” I laughed. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel tired, mostly,” Zoie said as she pushed herself up a bit so she could sit and talk to me. “Whose ship is this?”

  “Shale-Lea’s,” I replied and chuckled when her jaw popped open. “I know, right? We veered off course by a lot, and somehow she found us because she anchored her ship nearby. I think she wants to help us.”

  “Really?” Zoie asked with a skeptical look. “Does she know we are planning on killing her husband?”

  “I kind of told her that we’d probably duel.” I shrugged.

  “Then it doesn’t seem even remotely advantageous for her to offer us assistance,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know, I told her that she actually had more to gain by turning us over to Ren, but she mentioned something…” I trailed off as the image of Shale-Lea’s crying face floated in my mind’s eye. “She said something about destiny, and she seemed really torn up about something. I asked her what she would think if I killed her husband and she became mine, and… it seemed as if she liked the idea.”

  “Hmm…” Zoie muttered. “Asher wives are bound to their husbands. He must have really betrayed her for her to want another Duelist to be involved.”

  “You’re probably right,” I said. “I think she’s the one who needs our help.”

  “You don’t know yet?” Zoie asked.

  “I’m about to go and talk to her,” I explained but then kissed the cat-woman’s knuckles. “But I had to make sure you were okay first.”

  “Come here,” Zoie said and tugged on my hand.

  I stretched out alongside my wife and wrapped my arm around her so I could lay my head against her chest. Her heart beat strong and steady, and it was heaven to my ears.

  “I need to tell you something,” I said and breathed deeply as she ran her fingers through my tangled hair.

  She hummed a little questioning noise in the back of her throat that urged me to continue, so I took another breath.

  “In order to lift the curse,” I began, “I had to make a bargain with the ghost king of the Ruins, and man does that guy need to get out more.”

  “You entered a parlay with an ancient king?” Zoie asked with a bewildered tone in her voice.

  “Yeah, it was his coin we took from the crypt, and when I brought it back, he told me I needed to give him something else in return for your life,” I said.

  “What did you give him?” she asked in a coaxing tone.

  “I gave him the herald core, and he got us out, boat and all,” I replied, and Zoie’s hand in my hair stilled, so I looked up at her even though I was afraid I would see disappointment on her face.

  Her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them, and her face drained of what little color she managed to regain.

  “Nooo…” Zoie gasped and brought a hand up to her mouth. “You already had the gold, husband. You should have taken it and the stone and left me.”

  “Fuck the gold, Zoie, you’re my wife,” I said and sat up on the bedside. “Letting you die will never be an option. I will find another way to defeat Ren, so don’t you dare lose your faith in me--”

  “Alex,” she said and then hushed me by placing her fingers against my lips. “My faith in you was never in question, but I… I can’t believe you chose me!”

  “Of course, I did, that’s what I’ve been trying to-- ”

  Zoie wouldn’t even let me finish my sentence and smothered my mouth with hers.

  “Please, tell me again,” she whispered when she broke the kiss.

  I didn’t have to ask her what she meant, so I just smiled and bumped her nose with mine.

  “I love you, Zoie,” I said, and she purred as she closed her eyes.

  “Then all will be well, husband,” she said and cupped my jaw with her delicate but strong hand.

  A knock sounded from the door of our cabin, and with one last kiss to Zoie’s palm, I stood up.

  “I’d better go talk to Shale-Lea,” I said and tucked the blankets up to her chin. “The sooner I go, the sooner I can come back.”

  “Tell me everything when you do return,” Zoie murmured as she curled up on her side. Her eyes were already at half-mast, though, and I could tell she would probably be dead asleep by the time I came back.

  “I will when you wake up. Rest, now.” I blew out the lantern on the bedside table and then walked over to the door.

  “Is the Lady Brightwood resting soundly?” Shale-Lea asked when I made it out into the corridor.

  She’d changed out of her floor-length crimson cape and gloves and was now dressed in a flowing robe that reminded me of the color of candlelight as it off-set the long champagne colored feathers streaking through the rich thicket of her red hair.

  The sleeves of the gown were like some Grecian design and were only clasped at the shoulders and wrists, which showed off the pale peekaboo of her arms when she moved, and the neckline draped artfully under her defined collarbones and showed the dusky valley of her enticing cleavage.

  She was alluring and vulnerable, but her expression was much too innocent to be believed, so I stopped short and stared at her.

  “How much did you hear?” I asked.

  “Enough to know how your wife survived an ancient gold-curse,” the bird-woman said over her shoulder as she led me up a level to a nice dining-living area.

  The room was just large enough to hold about ten people, and it had a lounge area sunk into the floor with squashy looking cushions and pillows circled around a low table. The ceiling was draped with fine scarlet and dark purple scarves that caused the light of the room to be cast in golden-red, and against the back wall were floor to ceiling windows that showed the moonlit beach the sailboat was moored next to.

  “Sit and refresh yourself, Asher Brightwood,” Shale-Lea said as she led me down the three steps to the low table.

  Servers immediately rushed in and uncovered silver domes of roasted meat on plat
ters, fruits, and what looked and smelled like some sort of cheese.

  I made myself comfortable on a large lumpy floor cushion and hesitated to touch anything until my hostess served both of us with portions of everything from the delectable spread.

  My stomach growled, but I was prevented from digging in when Shale-Lea raised her wine goblet.

  “A toast, to new alliances,” she said and waited as I lifted my own goblet.

  “Is that what this is?” I asked as she clinked the goblets together. “An alliance?”

  “I am ardently hoping it can be,” the phoenix-woman replied and took a sip of her wine.

  I did as well, and then the two of us spent a few moments eating our food in silence, which I really appreciated because the way my brain seemed to be currently functioning, I could only handle one thing at a time.

  The salty meat was perfect with the soft cheese, and I made myself a sandwich with the slices of crusty bread. Subway had nothing on me, and all of it was perfect when washed down with wine that tasted like carbonated cranberries.

  When I felt sated enough for clarity to return, I looked up to see Shale-Lea’s deep green eyes staring at me with interest.

  “Sorry if I pigged out just then,” I said as the servers cleared the table of everything but the wine. “I promise I usually have better table manners than that.”

  “I like seeing a man who is unashamed of his appetites.” She shrugged casually. “Some men feel shame, or they have none.”

  I cleared my throat and took a sip of wine as she continued to look at me like she was starving despite the banquet in front of her.

  I’d seen that look on women before, the lowered bedroom eyes blown wide with arousal and the unconscious ticks like how a woman bites her lips or plays with her hair. Shale-Lea was showing all the classic signs of attraction, and I couldn’t help but perk up at her interest.

  I had a sudden guilty shock bolt through me at the fact I was a married man, but then I had to readjust because my actual wife already handpicked this beautiful woman in front of me so I would kill her husband, take her as my own, and put my babies inside her. It was an odd conflict that caused a brief traffic jam right between my head, my heart, and my dick, but I didn’t get to dwell on it too long because Shale-Lea broke the silence.

  “Tell me,” she said with a smile that showed off the single dimple in her left cheek, “how does a Varthan courtesan capture the heart of someone such as yourself?”

  “Are you jealous of my wife?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “No… well…” Shale-Lea turned toward me so she could be more comfortable as she reclined against a nest of pillows at her back. Then she rested her elbow on one of the pillows and leaned her head against her hand. “My husband doesn’t bother himself with… with me… and yet you gave a demon core to a powerful magical spirit to save your wife’s life. I can’t help but compare myself to her.”

  “Your husband seems like an idiot,” I said as my gaze tracked how the moonlight graced her high cheekbones like a blessing. “If I could paint you, I would.”

  Shale-Lea fluttered her long eyelashes in confusion, and she lifted her head from her hand so she could scan my face with her emerald eyes.

  “I’ve heard rumors that you have a way with words, but now I witness first-hand what they mean.” She took a nervous sip of wine.

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I said.

  “You do not, Asher.”

  “Maybe you should call me Alex,” I sighed. “And I think we got off on the wrong foot. If I’m reading things correctly, I think you are trying to ask me for my help.”

  “My, you are direct, aren’t you?” she asked, and she lowered her gaze as the regal front dropped away from her like a mantle and the sad diminished creature I saw earlier came to the surface. She looked so hopeless as she stared out at the stars through the window and visibly searched for what to say next.

  I hesitated at first, but then I took her hand in mine and saved her from the sea of words she seemed to be drowning in.

  “I think if you start from the beginning, you might discover our goals align with each other’s,” I said in a low voice that was coaxing but no less straightforward in my demand for answers.

  Shale-Lea stared down at our clasped hands, and then she slowly closed her eyes as if she was in pain. Another one of those perfect crystal tears left a silver track down her heart-shaped face before it splashed down on the back of my fingers.

  “I should think it easiest to work backward so we can start with what we both know,” she whispered and then softly stroked my knuckles with her thumb.

  “And what do we both know?” I asked.

  “That if my husband succeeds in his plans to kill the Asher Mec, then it will most likely be bad for the whole of Nata Isle if he takes over as Duelist Lord,” she replied and lifted her gaze back to mine.

  As I looked back into those Celtic green irises, I wondered briefly if Shale-Lea would even see me as a trade up if I revealed the plan Zoie and I had to gain her as an asset. She might have been inclined to remain loyal to Ren just so she could be the Asher Lord’s wife, but now I was starting to think she had more important things she valued that went beyond power.

  But I had to be sure.

  “What’s it matter to you?” I asked as I tilted my head. “You’ll be the most powerful woman on the island if Ren succeeds.”

  Shale-Lea snatched back her hand with an offended expression on her face.

  “Affluence that comes at the cost of lives is a wickedness that is abhorrent to me, sir,” she hissed, and her crest raised slightly in outrage. “The Duelists are supposed to protect the lesser men and women of this world.”

  “Woah, okay,” I said and raised a hand to try to placate this fire-bird. “I just need to be sure your heart is in the right place.”

  She cocked her head and looked just like a curious little quail as she glanced down at her chest and then back up.

  “My heart is still in my breast, Asher,” she said with narrowed eyes. “What games are you playing?”

  “No games, my lady, I promise,” I laughed. “It means I want to know if the reasons you are helping me are for a good cause. And don’t forget, you’re supposed to call me Alex.”

  “Then you must do the same and call me… Shay.” She smiled as her crest lowered, and a faint blush stained her cheeks.

  “Okay, Shay,” I said and offered up my palm again with no pressure. “Will you please go on?”

  Shay considered my open hand for only a moment before she placed hers back into mine, and it seemed to be soothing to her to have this little bit of physical comfort when it was clear she was deeply conflicted.

  “I would ask you a favor, Alex,” she said and gripped my fingers. “My father, the Asher who sponsors the races, is working to fix the races this year so Bala will win. He’s paid off all of this year’s riders to throw the race. That way, when Lord Mec bequeaths him in front of the most influential Ashers on the island, Ren may issue his Duelist challenge and fight Mec with a poisoned weapon.”

  “Why does your father want Ren to win?” I asked.

  “There are clans of exiles my father would see Ren annihilate down to the last man,” she said, and her face washed pale. “And if Ren inherits all of Mec’s resources, he will not hesitate to do just that.”

  “And… there is a reason why you don’t want this to happen?” I prompted.

  “Yes,” she said, but I could tell she either didn’t want to or couldn’t say much more about it, so I dog-eared the topic for later.

  “Okay, but why does Ren need to challenge Mec after winning the race when any public setting would work?” I changed the subject and squeezed her hand in encouragement.

  “If you haven’t learned by now, in time you will see the illusion of being all-powerful is just as good,” Shay explained. “No one has challenged a Mec Lord in over twenty seasons for a reason. His legacy is strong, and the other Asher
s follow him because he has the most powerful augmented weapons. Bala means to cause the biggest spectacle he can so his victory inspires fear and his power remains unquestioned.”

  “So, what do you need me for?” I asked.

  “I need you to enter the races and win against him so Bala’s opportunity is taken away from him, and his plan fails,” she said in one breath and then bit her pale bottom lip until it turned white.

  “And if I win the race, and his plan is ruined, what about the next time he goes after Mec?” I prodded.

  “When that time comes, I am sure I will have prepared myself better by then and will not have need to bother you,” she sighed and tried to take her hand back, but I held it fast.

  “What if…” I said as I looked into her troubled face. “What if I told you I can do you one better?”

  Chapter 18

  The gorgeous phoenix-woman stared at me, and her clover green eyes shone with a raw but hopeful vulnerability. That look made me want to tuck her close and shelter her under my arm for some reason.

  No, not some reason. I knew she was telling the truth now, and she seemed to be in a desperate situation too complicated for me to understand right this second.

  But that was okay. I just hoped what I was about to tell her next would help make her feel like there might be a way out.

  My heart twisted when I realized she reminded me of a beautiful nightingale trapped inside a gilded cage. She was surrounded by the coldness of fine things and good social status, but she lacked the warmth of love and joy.

  Of freedom.

  Shay glanced up at the ceiling as if everything overwhelmed her for a second, and then she took a deep breath to center herself.

  “Please, sir,” she said as her crystal voice trembled, “speak plainly so my foolish head has no room to make up silly fantasies.”

  “Winning the race will not be enough,” I explained as clearly as I could. “I mentioned this earlier to you, but if I challenge Ren after I beat him in the race, then the problem is gone for good.”

  “You… are not jesting?” Shay’s face went paler than I’d seen it until I was sure she might actually pass out.