Malcor's Story
Page 8
The knight stepped back as if struck and stammered, “How did you know…?”
His comrade elbowed him aside and jokingly said, “Come now, how could you know something like that boy? We’re impressed. Impress us some more and we’ll let you be on your way.”
Malcor looked harder. Normally, this would seem to be a situation for a bribe, but that felt wrong. Malcor stepped back, tried to step out of the River, and for just a moment see if he had missed something. He felt his perception shift and catch in his breath and then he felt his face break free of it just enough. The two knights before him were Bloodstone veterans. Their armor and weapons glimmered with the lighted auras of magic. The men themselves, no not men, they appeared as men but under scrutiny, their illusions fell aside to Malcor’s eyes. They were both fire giants. Malcor rested his head back into the River as sight and sound crashed back in on him. As before, he felt the weight of the River as fatigue. He shook it off as best he could.
“Two of you to guard this place is impressive R’Dar Kerckhi
Calvin adjusted his gear so that his shield dropped down and became more obvious to the guards as well. Simultaneously, they burst into laughter, drawing more than a few stares from other travelers as well as the shrine’s prefect, who stepped out to them. “What is going on here?”
Before the prefect could say another word, the fire giants each slapped the boys on the shoulder. Calvin went flying backwards from the friendly slap, though Malcor braced himself and took it. They said, “These two paladin initiates are on their way to the Temple. They are clear to pass!” He looked at Malcor and with a wink whispered, “Kaia asked us to watch for you and tell him which way you went. YOU are the quarry.” Both burst into laughter again.
After walking several minutes, Calvin said, “I cannot believe. How did you do that? How did you know?”
Malcor shrugged it off. “It was a guess. I just said the right things I guess. Your shield helped too.”
“But how did you know to use that title? R’Dar Kerckhi? I don’t even know what that means! They’re all yelling at you and suddenly you sort of spaced out and then you’re all best friends. What is with you Mal?” As they continued, Calvin’s questions gradually turned back into sharing what he knew about the Capitol.
The road here, while as wide as the main road to the Bazaar, had almost no traffic. A swiftly flowing stream split the road through its center. To the right and left, estates arose. Some appeared as intimidating and dreadful as the Soldier’s Fort. Others resembled grand palaces. Each had a main approach connecting to the road over a bridge. Like their appearance, some had extensive walls, battlements, or nothing at all. In front of one such, Malcor just stopped and stared. The estate appeared to be a well-tended park with trees, meandering paths, and statues depicting different monsters. He thought he saw a wall back in the forest, but could not be sure. “Do you know about this place?” Malcor asked pointing. Stepping closer, the façade wavered and then suddenly a deep ravine and impassable walls became clear. Malcor realized that most of these estates had probably been enchanted to hide their true nature.
Calvin stared for a second and thought. “I think it belongs to a member of the Inner Circle. Either an intelligent silver golem or a dark elf. I can’t remember. My father and I never came here but we heard and I was told stories about a park estate like this. There are two of them actually. One is bright like this. The other only looks this way and is an illusion to hide what the estate actually looks like.”
As they spoke, leaning on a bridge over the stream, a man came walking around a tree back on a garden path. He wore dark grey travelling clothes and stared intently at a scroll. His long fast steps drew him quickly to the road. When his boot stepped onto the white stone bridge connecting the park to the main road, he appeared to snap out of a trance and looked around. His eyes focused briefly on the two boys and then scanned up and down the street as if looking for something.
He stepped out to the boys and cleared his throat, “Excuse me but will you tell me who all you have seen in the past little while? I have a gold coin for you if you do,” he said rolling a coin along his knuckles.
Calvin spoke up, “We’ve been here for about an hour coming off the Bazaar Road. Been here resting at this bridge for about – what, ten; no five minutes Mal? – and we have not seen anyone except you. We don’t need your money. Thank you for the offer though.”
The man, something about him more than the estate he just exited, pulled at Malcor. While the man continued what looked to be a brief conversation with Calvin, Malcor mulled it over in his thoughts. According to Calvin, this area served as home for the most powerful and wealthiest of the empire. The fire giant guards had been looking for them specifically. No one else took this road. Common citizens clearly did not use this road. They had not seen any other people the entire time and now here they stood, talking with a servant, no… this had to be someone like the fire giants.
The man kept looking sidelong at Malcor while Calvin danced around the issue of where they were headed. “Your friend is sure quiet. Is he always like this?” he asked turning to look at Malcor directly. His question caught Malcor assessing the man’s clothing. Similar to Dar Shara and the king, his clothes draped and looked like the same dark grey material worn by the nobility. Even the boots, though trimmed with shimmering silvery thread, had that dark grey luster. Startled by the abrupt question, he looked up to the man’s eyes and took note that the silvery thread briefly resolved as magical runes.
Malcor met the man’s eyes and remained silent. The moment stretched and then Malcor finally said, “My lord, you ask who we have seen. We have seen only you. I am Malcor. This is my friend Calvin. We are initiates to the knighthood making our way to the Temple.” He pointed in the Temple’s direction. “So far we have had an interesting journey.” He took a measured stare and then added, “You ask who we have met on this road.” Maybe road meant more than this particular street. “I’ve met many interesting people on my road. If you would like to hear more, I’d be happy to come visit you here or you can find us at the Temple.”
The man’s face split into a grin, “Very good Malcor. You’re starting to get it. I am Do’Larus, or Dar’Yx. However, I’ve been here long enough that most Tanias call me “Daryx”. While I will not be calling on you at the Temple – they don’t particularly like me there – you are most welcome to visit my estate any time. Either I, or one of my servants, will be able to assist you. Kaia told me to expect something uncommon from you. I see it.” For a moment it seemed his eyes glowed purple and Malcor felt the rush of the River and the eyes. Calvin felt it too though not the same.
Malcor remembered the stories and legends about a dark elf who had been recruited by the dragon emperor eons ago, who chose to stay and serve the empire though not the Queen. So, this was that dark elf. Probably masked in an illusion like the fire giants.
Daryx turned and with a wave of his hand walked west away from the estate. The parklands seemed somehow dimmer, quieter with each step. The birds and water sounds vanishing in phase to each footfall. “What was with his eyes?” Calvin wondered. “For a moment, I felt like he was looking right through me like he knew everything about me.”
Malcor kicked a pebble into the water under the bridge. “You know how these people are better than I do. They see things differently than normal people…” a distant sound caught his attention, a horse galloping at full speed.
Sure enough, a moment later, a heavy charger replete with Temple armor and adornments came into view around the gradually curving road. In contrast to the heavy armor, the charger’s rider wore brown leathers and flailed a scimitar
or a sabre – hard to tell at this distance – in the air. He was screaming over and over until finally they could hear him. Because the bridges could only be accessed at sharp turns off the roadway, Malcor and Calvin did not move. They just watched, their hands wandering compulsively to what few weapons they had.
Chapter Eight – Tor's Revenge
“Revenge!” the rider screamed and came at them galloping full speed. At the smaller cross-section the rider spun the horse and pointed the scimitar at Malcor. “You! You killed my brother! You are Tor’s murderer and I will have your life!” Without a pause, he continued across the bridge from the other side.
Understanding at last what was going on, Malcor drew his long sword as did Calvin. Feuds, revenge, and duals played out frequently across the empire. So long as both parties agreed to it, they fell outside the law. If one party did not, then the law could intervene, though often too late to save the reluctant party. “The Law saves the dead” had evolved as an expression conveying how often these things resulted in the wrong person being killed. In this case, Malcor had indeed killed R’Dar Tor. If he pointed his blade and matched the accuser’s movements, it would be a fight to the death. If he pointed his sword down, then it would be a fight to first blood. If he resheathed his sword and called for the law, he’d likely be killed where he stood. This street did not seem to have a heavy police presence. Malcor whispered to Calvin, “Witness,” and then pointed his sword tip down.
The rider’s eye narrowed and he screamed out, “No!” and charged.
Each hoof strike, each movement of the charger’s armor as it rose and fell with the charge, caught Malcor’s eye. He held his sword at the ready and squared his stance to the charge. A deep guttural sound rose from his belly and Malcor found the words spilling from his lips, “My Goddess, My Queen, for your glory… this foe. Coming Undone!” His words rose and inflected his sword’s name. In spite of the tension, Malcor felt a prayerful and reflective mood fall upon him. It strengthened him and quelled his heart's pounding. Like the charger, Malcor felt his arms swell with blood and flexing muscle.
The rider brought his sword in to strike at Malcor’s face. Malcor side-stepped and deflected the strike along his blade’s edge. Where the blades met, an uncharacteristically non-metallic sound rang out as if a ceramic pot had broken. Small shards of the rider’s sword shattered from contact along Malcor’s longsword. Malcor finished his side-step and cut into the charger’s hindquarters. His sword sliced into the armor and again, the sound of pottery shattering as the armor chipped and then shattered. It felt like he drew blood but the trained charger moved past him across the bridge and wheeled to turn on the other street’s thoroughfare.
The rider’s sword hilt retained a shattered fraction of what used to be a quality blade. The rider threw it to the side and held up his hand. The air above shimmered and a lance appeared in his grasp. He leveled it at Malcor and charged again. As before, Malcor squared himself to the attack. “My Queen, the emperor wrote that my children’s enemies shall be Mine own. They shall fall as wheat caught in the dragon’s flames. They shall fall and know not why the earth claims them to its face where My Chosen rise into the sky, full of glory and might. Let no fear, no wound, no poison, no magic, no harm, no dread touch those who wield Her Name in righteousness…” he prayed.
The lance speared for Malcor’s center of mass, no elegant attack this time; the rider just wanted to strike a blow. At the last instant, Malcor saw the rider change the charge slightly so as to trample Malcor under hoof should the lance miss its mark. Not wanting to expose himself, Malcor kept his guard and caught the lance on his sword edge where it scraped with a high-pitched and annoying metal on stone sound. Small cracks followed the lance where it touched Coming Undone as it began to disintegrate. Just before Malcor would push back from the attack and attempt a counterstrike, the rider spoke a word and blue lighting shot from his arm into the lance and into Malcor.
The light and shock hit all at once and Mal temporarily lost track of what had happened. When he regained his sight and breath, the rider had reached the other thoroughfare and discarded the ruined lance. A crossbow shimmered into the rider’s hand, nocked and ready to fire. He pointed it at Malcor. Malcor noticed the smell of cooked meat and part of him registered the grievous burns all over his body. If he waited too long, the burn wounds would become actual pain and he could tell it would be very bad. He needed to end this fight. Calvin asked if he wanted to switch and Malcor shook his head no.
Malcor drew a measured breath and attempted to fall into the River of Time, even as the rider’s finger pulled the crossbow’s trigger. The bolt lurched forward and then Malcor rose out of the River. He saw his opponent slow and freeze, drowning in time. The mounted warrior’s aura seethed with black tendrils of hate and greed. The crossbow and its bolt stood out plainly revealed as magical and bearing a poison of some kind. Even the charger bore the markings of magic and Malcor realized in an instant that R’Dar Tor had a powerful and wealthy family. This would not end without a decisive strike. He noticed something else. A darkness hid watching in the background. Malcor regarded the darkness and felt it smile back at him. The rider can see me like this, he realized. The bolt arced out of the River and began a slow path to Malcor. A spark of magic pulsed along its spine.
Malcor swatted the bolt back into the River with his sword and waded towards the rider. The crossbow itself flashed and a second bolt appeared nocked and ready to fire. The rider attempted to track Malcor but clearly struggled with keeping pace with Malcor’s movements. Close enough now, Malcor immersed himself back into the River…
…and stabbed his sword at the man’s offhand side. The charger, aware of the danger before the rider, sidestepped and Malcor’s sword bit into the rider’s thigh. A fountain of crystallizing blood erupted from the wound. Caught by surprise, the rider pulled back and the charger reared trying to kick Malcor with the steel-reinforced hoofs. The rider lost his balance and fell back out of the saddle.
Malcor found himself confronted by the opportunity to take this man’s life. The fury of the temptation took his breath away, but he shook it off as bloodlust. His sword rose once and fell, slicing across his opponent’s face. Like the thigh wound, an eruption of crystallized blood, bone, and eye fluid replaced the rider’s face. And then Malcor sheathed his sword. Calvin ran forward to grab the charger’s reins. The rider struck the ground, his hands rising to clutch his ruined face.
“You didn’t kill him?” Calvin asked.
Both boys looked down at the man sliced across his eyes with bone visible across his nose bridge and left cheekbone. Malcor raised his sword, tip down, “You challenged me to a death fight and I countered to first blood. My sword is down. Forsake your vendetta or I will honor your death challenge.”
They could not tell if the man could even hear them through his pain. While Malcor had pulled his strike to not be fatal, the man clearly suffered from shock and could very well die from the pain and nature of the wound. Malcor’s arms trembled holding his sword as the weight of his own wounds started to grow heavy with pain. “Yield?”
The rider continued writhing on the ground but he gestured as if to say something. Malcor leaned forward a bit to hear the man speak amidst blood gurgling, “Rathos, kill.” Malcor dropped his sword through the man’s shattered face into the stone pavement right as he heard the charger rear up to club their skulls. Too tired and wounded to really care, Malcor felt Calvin move quickly as Kaia's shield blocked the horse's hoof attack, and then was met with the sounds of a horse dying. Calvin had drawn and sliced the horse’s unarmored belly as it reared up.
Malcor slumped back against the bridge railing and then slid down to the ground. A spreading pool of blood traced the pavement stones trailing out from the rider’s face. A new one had started from the slain charger. Calvin wiped his sword clean on the charger’s gambeson and looked with concern at Malcor. Mal smiled back as best he could but his arms and legs felt heavy and fatigued. He po
inted to the man's face, “I think this is what she meant about “unseen”. Ha,” he choked referring to Dar Shara. He felt cold and realized his burned flesh had cracked and started to bleed in numerous places.
“You moved so fast Mal. How do you do that? When I watch you fight, I feel like I am at a concert or performance. There is something about it that makes me want to cheer for you. How?”
Mal coughed and winced, “You saved my life by taking out the horse… first time I have seen you fight. Have seen you train but never for real…” It felt harder to focus and his vision swam. “You –"
Calvin said something but Malcor could not make it out. He saw a bright flash of white light and odd sounds. At one point, through gray sparkles of light, a priestess looked down at him with concern and said, “He was an armorer? With less conditioning, he’d have died already. Turn his head.” Other sounds, other noises and feelings rose and faded.
Finally, against great fatigue, Mal opened his eyes and saw a figure he would later remember as Calvin talking to a white robed person. The blinding light hurt his eyes. When he tried to move, everything hurt but he found he could push through the pain and sat up. Everything felt familiar but he did not recognize even a single familiar landmark. The figure turned to him. The robed person turned out to be a woman wearing ornate jewelry and white silken robes so sheer and close to her porcelain skin tone as to make her appear nude. Her mouth moved but all he heard was a loud rushing sound. Her mouth moved again.
Slowly her words resolved into, “What is your name?”
Malcor tried to answer but realized his name, though on the tip of tongue, would not come out.
“You had a close brush. Your friend over there, Calvin right? - says you’re Malcor. Is your name Malcor?” He nodded his head yes. “Take it easy. I have healed your wounds. You technically died probably before the fight ended, but your force of will kept you going.” She smiled at him. “My name is R’Dar Ora. I tend the Queen’s shrine at lord Sai R’Dar’s manor just down the street from here.” She brushed the hair from his face and Calvin pulled up a bucket of water from the flowing river beneath them. She wiped his face and he started feeling stronger.