The Living Sword

by Pemry Janes

  Finally, she caught a glimpse of a shield around the bend. Leraine slid into view, throwing the poisoned missile in the same motion. The guard stopped, almost falling down the stairs, when the spike punched through his calf, causing him to topple over after all.

  Leraine danced out of the way, drawing another throwing spike as she did so, which she threw at the man that had been behind the guard now tumbling down the stairs. It sank into his neck, so Leraine waited and watched as her enemy sank into oblivion through a combination of blood loss and poison. Even took the time to retrieve the dagger she'd laid aside. Only when she was sure he had died, did she move past him and further up the stairs.

  She encountered no one else, but from up above continued to come the occasional thundering crashes and rumbling tremors Leraine could feel through her toes and fingers. 'Could it be Rock?' It seemed hard to believe. They were strangers to each other, for one. Had only shared a few meals together. And even if Rock had tried, he didn't seem capable enough to pass through an entire hostile country without getting caught.

  At last she reached the exit of the dungeon, but the door opened before she'd laid a hand on it. Her hand whipped around and sent her dagger flying. Instead of sinking into flesh, however, it bounced off the figure after puncturing what looked to be nothing sturdier than green cloth.

  Leraine blinked, recognizing who was standing there. She'd only just considered the possibility, but hadn't really believed it possible. “What are you doing here?” she asked Rock.

  ***

  “What are you doing here?” Broken Fang asked him as she walked up to him and bent over to retrieve the weapon she'd thrown at him. Eurik noticed she wasn't wearing any boots.

  “Rescuing you, for one. Though it seems you didn't really need it.”

  “Of course not,” she scoffed. Broken Fang slid past him and strode towards the stairs. Eurik, after giving the way she'd come from a glance, hurried to follow her. “But I do appreciate you tried,” she said without looking his way. “And now, we will teach these people why they should not mess with the Mochedan.”

  “When you say 'these people', who exactly are you talking about?” he asked as they raced up the stairs.

  “The blooddrinker and his master. Horse people slavishly follow their leaders, without them they will be thrown into confusion, giving us the time we need to escape. And once we have, there will be nobody stupid enough to try what they tried. They will have learned better.”

  “Or swear bloody revenge,” Eurik countered. “You did, after all.”

  Broken Fang stopped at his words. Her hands tightened around the handles of her weapons. “Do you have a better idea?”

  “No, actually. But my sesin thought me patience—”

  “Oh yeah, you've shown a lot of that lately,” Misthell muttered.

  Ignoring him, Eurik went on, “He thought me to think and look for solutions, instead of satisfaction.”

  “But you don't see a solution, and neither do I. So I will settle for satisfaction.” And with those words, Broken Fang began to stalk up the stairs again.

  ***

  The next contingent of guards they encountered was easily dealt with. Leraine barely had to do anything but watch as Rock threw their enemies against the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling, until they were incapacitated.

  It wasn't as quick or ruthless as Leraine's methods would have been, but she refrained from pointing out that some of them would never wake up again. She was no more bloodthirsty than the next person; as long as their enemies didn't get up to cause them problems later, it was fine with her.

  The rest of the way seemed clear, until they reached a set of ornate doors Leraine recognized. “That's the chamber they took me to. We might find Merin there, or at least a clue as to where he is.”

  “But it's not guarded,” Rock pointed out. “And we haven't come across a single Knight Scapular on our way up. Could this be a trap?”

  Leraine shook her head. “You have listened to too many storytellers. A Bone Lord like Merin might have a few hundred fighters he can call upon, but most of those won't even be in the city. Of the ones here, only the lower valued fighters would be on duty now, valued warriors like the knights are out carousing or sleeping.” The sounds of people wearing armor echoed up the stairs. “Until you woke them up.”

  “They can go back to sleep,” Rock said. “Because they are not getting up here.” He went back to the stairs and bent his knees. With clawed fingers he stretched his arms out, before bringing them back like he was pulling a net in. Stones flew up from out of the stairwell and covered the opening. A shout, signaling someone had discovered what Rock was doing, was cut off midway by the last stone scraping into place.

  “This only buys us some time,” he warned as he came back. “I can feel another staircase on the other side of the tower, but it is a lot smaller, and I think it is hidden.”

  “Then we best finish this quickly,” Leraine replied with a grin.

  “Hold on. If Rik is there, and you're serious about killing him, then you need something better than what you're carrying.” Rock drew his living sword and presented it to Leraine with its handle pointing towards her.

  “You're offering me your sword?”

  “I'm letting you borrow him.” He shrugged. “Not like I will be using it if it comes down to fighting in there.”

  “Hold on for a moment, don't I get a say in this?” the blade objected.

  “Misthell,” Rock sighed, “this is one fight we can't afford to have you sitting out.”

  “I know that! I'd just like to be asked, that's all.”

  “Living sword,” Leraine broke in. “Would you do me the honor of wielding you as I avenge the death of my teacher?”

  “Well,” the blade coughed, “when you say it like that, how can I say no? Wield me, but try to watch the edge. I chip easily.”

  She saw Rock's wry smile, but did not share it. He might not understand the significance, but Leraine did as her hand slowly wrapped around the living sword's handle.

  Chapter 9

  Culmination

  Holding Misthell in her hand confirmed what Leraine already suspected. The markings on the blade were no mere decorations; they were the real deal. Through the markings, she could channel a bit of Ghisa's power into the blade. Now, it felt alive in a way no ordinary weapon ever could.

  She made a slow swing with the sword, to test its weight and become familiar with its balance. Nodding to herself, she faced Rock once more. “I am ready.”

  He rolled his neck, then his shoulders. “I'm not, but I don't think they'll give us the time I need, so let's knock on the door.”

  That proved unnecessary as the doors swung open when they approached them. The room inside was as Leraine remembered, complete with the Bone Lord and his blooddrinker. The latter leaned against a pillar, underneath one of the oil lamps illuminating the room, looking none too worried.

  Merin, at least, sounded unhappy to see them. “It seems the trap part of your trap isn't up to the task,” he noted from his throne. “Or am I part of the bait as well?” the Bone Lord wondered with narrowed eyes.

  “You worry too much,” the blooddrinker countered as he pushed himself away from the pillar. “I can deal with these two easily.”

  “What are they talking about?” Rock asked aloud.

  “They're not happy,” was all she said. Leraine was not in the mood right now to play translator.

  “You will forgive me if I don't trust you on that,” Merin continued. “Verrin, wach.”

  Red stars ignited in the eye sockets of the bone construct next to Merin's throne and it rolled its shoulders. Its gaze swept over Leraine and she could not help but shiver at the inhuman intelligence she felt in there.

  “Verrin here is the reason I want that living sword,” the Bone Lord explained, switching to Linesan. “With that, my new construct will be guaranteed to sweep away this year's competition.”

  “You … This was all about
a game? People died!” Rock yelled.

  Merin merely waved his words away. “I did not order their deaths. All of this could have been avoided if you'd simply sold your blade. But you made your choice, and others suffered for it.” Leraine wondered just how truthful Rik had been in his reports to his master.

  Before Rock could argue the point, the blooddrinker spoke up. “Enough with the talking. Let's get to the killing!” He sprang forward with his curved blades drawn, and Leraine instantly went to meet him.

  “The blooddrinker is mine to fight,” she warned Rock as she squared off with Rik.

  “Alright. And Misthell, don't forget to be awesome.”

  “I won't,” the sword vowed as she and Rik circled each other.

  ***

  Eurik gave Broken Fang and Rik a wide berth as he made his way for Lord Merin. He didn't really know what he was going to do yet, but it would probably involve violence.

  The Bone Lord must have thought the same thing. “Verrin, protect me,” he ordered the bone construct. It did not acknowledge the order in word, only in deed as it swiftly moved in front of the throne.

  Confronted with the prospect of having to fight the bone construct, Eurik gave it a closer look. Its frame was the skeleton of either a very large man or an orc, with its normal feet replaced with a pair that looked like they'd belonged to a dragon; two claws pointed forward and one smaller one pointed backwards. Much of the skeleton was covered by plates of bone inscribed with more symbols than even the Knights Scapular's armor. Two horns fused to the sides of its skull helped give it a more intimidating look, though the glowing eyes alone were more than enough in Eurik's opinion.

  Behind him, he could hear Misthell clashing with Rik's blades. 'Can't stand here and let her do all the work.' With a grunt, Eurik launched a shockwave through the floor, directed at Verrin and the seated Lord Merin behind it. The bone construct didn't react to the attack, it simply stood there as a wave of stone rolled towards it. So Eurik was taken by surprise when he felt the chiri wash up against an unseen field, before flowing around it leaving the floor around and behind Verrin undisturbed.

  “Your abilities are useless against Verrin,” Merin chuckled. “Because I put the heart of a demon lord in him.”

  ***

  Multi-colored sparks flew through the air as Misthell clashed with the blooddrinker's blades. “Those swords are made of vital steel,” the living sword revealed as Leraine backed off again. She knew what that was. Vital steel was the metal a living sword was made from. A blacksmith might only have a few living swords in him, but he could make as much vital steel as he wanted. It was easy to acquire a weapon made from vital steel, you just needed money.

  “Yeah,” Rik confirmed. “I got these beauties before I left Sarvayna. To be honest, I thought they'd slice right through that woman's sword, but I guess those scribbles you primitives put on your weapons are good for something after all.”

  “Her name was Viper,” Leraine hissed. She wouldn't do the blooddrinker the honor of giving him Irelith's soul name.

  “You should focus more on the now.” His arm blurred towards her. Leraine reacted, but would have been too late if Misthell hadn't flexed, slapping Rik's blade away.

  “It's all you have left.” Still grinning, the blooddrinker toyed with his weapons. But he never looked away from her.

  Leraine looked for an opening herself. She had reach on him, Misthell was longer than Rik's blades. But he had two of them and knew how to use them. If she wanted to bring her dagger into play, she'd have to give up that advantage. And the blooddrinker was too fast to take a chance like that.

  A flick of her wrist sent Misthell questing for Rik's left wrist, but it snapped out of the way while the other blade tried to push the living sword along to open Leraine up for a counter-attack. She thrust her dagger up, never getting close to hitting him, but forcing him to honor the threat while she brought her sword back into position.

  They were back where they started. The blooddrinker's grin got a little wider.

  ***

  'A demon's heart.' Demons hadn't walked the earth in centuries, not since the rift was closed. Demon lords, the commanders of those hordes, had been rare even when the rift had been open. Where the Bone Lord had found one didn't matter, though. What mattered was overcoming the problem before Eurik.

  'According to the stories, demon lords were very dangerous. Their gaze could freeze a fighter on the spot, blades would bounce off of their skin, and magic faltered in their presence.' Eurik's eyes narrowed. 'In their presence,' he mulled. 'I'm not using magic, but that might not matter to whatever power the construct has access to.'

  He stomped the floor, a stone flew up, and a thrust of his elbow sent it towards Verrin. It flew through the air, until it reached the construct. The air rippled around Verrin before the stone fell to the floor, its energy spent.

  “As I said, useless. No magic can penetrate that barrier,” Merin taunted.

  Eurik looked around for inspiration. He probably could bring the tower down, the construct might survive even that, but Lord Merin wouldn't. Of course, neither would Broken Fang.

  “I think you've done quite enough damage to my home. Verrin, kill him.”

  The construct leaped into action. Its claws dug into stone as it cocked back a fist. Eurik raised his arms to defend himself from the punch and fortified his body with more Earth chiri. Then he ducked out of the way when the construct's other hand tried to rake him. Its fingertips now sported small blades composed of the same energy that blazed in the construct's eyes.

  But he hadn't dodged the attack after all. Eurik hissed, his hand went to his side and came back bloody. Those energy claws had cut right through the chiri and his skin, but luckily the wounds were shallow. Concentrating, he forced the blood to harden. He would have to open the wound up again once this was over for it to heal properly, but it would do for now.

  Verrin came at Eurik again, and in a reflex he launched a pillar of stone at the construct. It stopped before it could reach Verrin, the construct easily vaulting over the obstacle. Using what little Wind chiri there was, Eurik jumped back and put a pillar between him and Verrin. It would only give him a moment's peace, but that was more than he'd had. But it did leave the question: 'Now what do I do?'

  ***

  The top half of her dagger had been shorn off, but Leraine still held on to it while she parried a flurry of strikes with Misthell. There was no time to counter-attack, no opportunity to breathe, as the blooddrinker forced her back step by step. She could almost feel the wall at her back.

  “Tell me if I'm going to fast for you,” Rik crowed. He seemed more intent on batting about her sword than to try to score a hit on Leraine herself. “The last woman forgot to do that.”

  Seeing red, Leraine took a wild swing. The blooddrinker leaned out of the way, but with is eyes fixed on Misthell, he didn't see her throw her dagger with a flick of her wrist. He felt it, though, when its broken edge sank into his thigh.

  “Bloody hell,” Rik cursed as he hopped back. “I liked those pants.” The blooddrinker gave Leraine a furious glare, but made no move to pull the blade out, nor did he shift his weight off of the injured leg.

  Leraine pulled the other dagger from her back. “Did I go too fast for you?” she asked him sweetly.

  It only elicited a chuckle from the blooddrinker. “Aren't you a cheeky one. I'll enjoy drinking you,” he mused as he readied his blades in an unspoken invitation.

  Taking a deep breath, Leraine took a step forward only to rear back in surprise when Rik rushed her. One moment he was there, the next he was inside arm's reach and shoving her up against the wall.

  The pommel of his left sword slammed into her wrist; Misthell dropped out of her nerveless fingers. Leraine stabbed her dagger into him, the steel sinking into his side again and again, but the blooddrinker didn't seem to notice. A knee in her stomach forced her to stop, stop stabbing, stop breathing, stop thinking. Leraine's head came to rest on the bloo
ddrinker's chest. The dagger fell to the floor.

  “I'm a firm proponent of instant gratification,” Rik informed her.

  In the distance, the living sword's voice said something before it cut off abruptly.

  ***

  Verrin tried to go around the pillar to get at Eurik. He'd been waiting for that and slapped the column of stone. One of the drums started to move, but stopped right away. There seemed to be no way around that barrier. The bone construct continued to circle the pillar and Eurik followed suit.

  When Verrin stopped, Eurik thought he had another respite until a roar tore through the air. It picked him up and threw him halfway across the room. Getting back up, none the worse for wear thanks to the Earth chiri still coursing through his body, Eurik found Verrin stalking towards him.

  The construct growled now, its back hunched. It behaved more and more like a demon as the fight went on.

  Eurik wondered what to do. He'd lost sight of Broken Fang and he didn't hear anything either. Was her fight over, had she won? 'No,' he realized as he cast his senses out through the stone. 'They're both still standing … and Misthell is on the floor. Not good.'

  His attention returned to Verrin. He could sense its footsteps. 'Can't keep running,' he thought. 'Can't wait around until I come up with a clever solution.' Eurik had to act, and he had to act now. 'Wait a moment, I can feel him,' he mused. 'And come to think of it, how can it be walking towards me with that field? Unless ...'

  Eurik started to run straight at Verrin, wind tugging at his shredded vest, gathering chiri with every step as he went faster and faster. Straight into the construct's waiting claws.

  ***

  It barely registered that her enemy had put his swords away. But the world started to come back into focus when Rik yanked her head up by her hair. She'd always kept it short, and her draen had been cut off, but his strong fingers didn't need much purchase to exert tremendous force. He exposed her neck, his mouth already descending to take a drink.