by R W Foster
He charged again, proving me correct. Something made me meet his charge. We met on the soft riverbank, both of us swinging with all our might. Our identical swords collided with a thunderous explosion, throwing all of us. I realized I’d blacked out when I opened my eyes. Brown branches and green leaves sliced the sky into chunks.
The scrapes and cuts from the fall sang. I sat up, and more branches dug at my flesh. I got to my feet, cussing at every new scratch and scrape. Something nagged at me, but I wanted to find out why I was in a bush. I spotted the black scaled demon across the meadow, and things clicked. A memory of a fight with this being before: ‘His sword slashed on a diagonal from his right to his left. The cut would have cleaved me in two, but I took a long, quick step to my right and twisted my body to my left as I brought my sword across the back of his neck. The step, twist of my body and the strength I put into my strike served to remove his head from his body.’
I tore through the bush and stepped out. “Belial,” I growled.
“You can say my name. I’m so glad,” the half-demon demon purred in his honey-over-gravel voice. “What is your name Elf-lover?”
“Carter Blake.”
“Hmm. Why do you think you should fight me?”
“I’ve beaten you. What are you doing here?”
“No.” He shook his head. “That is quite impossible, Carter Blake.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why is that?”
“You’re too weak. How about we kill him, dear Sera?”
I was confused by his confidence that we hadn’t battled before when I had defeated him. And, I couldn’t figure out why he lived after I already cut his head off, but maintained my poker face. ‘Call the sword,’ an inner voice suggested.
‘What?’ I thought.
‘Call. The. Sword.’
The inner voice seemed certain, so I shrugged and did as suggested. I held my hand out and thundered, “Come to me!”
Seconds later, a whistling pierced the air and the snow white sword slapped into my palm, hilt first. My fingers curved into a firm grip. I swung the sword up and around even as the usual coldness shot up though my hand, up my arm, down my chest to my stomach where a ball of ice formed. I pointed my blade at the girl named Sera. “You first.”
I tried to maintain my outward composure, but my heart thrummed, making my body vibrate with the adrenaline flowing through me. Sera tilted her head to the left, causing her neck to make a popping sound. Then she interlaced her fingers and stretched her hands out towards me, causing her knuckles to pop. I waited; my balance on the balls of my feet, my limbs loose. She screamed a battle cry and raced at me. She leaped into the air, and my Moment of Prescience kicked in.
The world slowed to a stop and I foresaw how Sera would attack. She was going to hit me in my chest with both of her knees, driving me to the ground; rain elbow strikes down on my skull as I lay stunned. The world snapped back to normal.
I ducked under her leap and, reaching up, caught her for a brief moment in my arms. Using her momentum, I launched her overhead. As she rolled to her feet, the world slowed in an abrupt fashion once more. Belial kicked me in the back of my head. As I reeled forward, Sera leaped up and nailed me in my head with her knee. The sudden stop and reversing of my momentum broke my neck. The world snapped back to normal speed once more.
I ducked and spun to my left. I spotted the half-demon’s outstretched foot out of the corner of my eye as it went past where I had just been standing. I continued my spin and struck Belial on his supporting knee with the sheath of my sword. The stiff leather was as hard as oak. His knee buckled, sending him crashing to the ground. Sera attacked again, rushing forward with elbow and palm strikes. I was able to either dodge or block them with my sheath. I spotted Belial rising behind her, his attention locked on something other than me. I then discovered he had his focus on Keeper Dearbhaile.
I stepped forward and threw my sheath. The girl leaned to her right and it flipped end-over-end past her head.
“You missed,” Sera gloated.
Right as the sheath collided with the back of the half-demon’s skull, I said, “No, I didn’t.”
She turned in time to view Belial going down once more. ‘Perfect.’ I took another step forward and swung my sword from behind me. Something had me turn my sword a quarter turn so the flat of the blade slammed into the side of her head as she turned back to me. Her eyes rolled back and she slumped to the ground without a sound.
The half-demon rose to his feet with a roar of rage and came at me. I leaped at him just as ferocious. When we were close enough, we both launched our swords at the other’s body, looking to end the fight with one blow. Our swords came together in such a violent clash that mine shattered and we were both knocked back a few steps. I recovered an instant before he did, so I threw the useless hilt of my busted blade and hit him right between his eyes. He dropped his sword, dazed for a moment. I charged him, certain of my impending victory. I launched a punch, thinking I would be able to knock him out like I had the girl.
Belial shook his head and caught my fist in a meaty hand. He lifted me in the air with as much effort as I would a pound of sugar.
“Playtime is over, Carter Blake,” he growled in his odd honey-over-gravel voice.
I struggled to no avail; he had me in too tight a grip.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he continued.
“I see that,” I said. “What do you think of this?”
Before he could answer, I kicked my right foot out and into his throat. He staggered for a second, holding his esophagus with his free hand, but did not turn loose. He straightened, still massaging his neck.
“You’ll pay for that, Carter Blake!” he rasped, sounding like a bullfrog with laryngitis.
“Ah! What dulcet tones!” I cried, trying to stall for time. I was desperate in trying to think of a way out of this predicament. “I’m so glad I was able to fix your voice for you!”
“Keep laughing, Carter Blake. I hope you can laugh as much when you are dead!” He growled.
“Freeze” I bellowed.
The half-demon son of Lucien froze in surprise.
“I cannot believe this!” I continued. “Are you that much of an idiot, for real?”
“What?” He snarled.
In my head, I snickered at the change I had wrought in his speaking. Aloud, “Are you sincere in your hope I can still laugh when I am dead? Holy crap!”
I almost bit my tongue off when he shook me. “I’m going to enjoy ripping your heart out.”
“Wait! You don’t want to do that!”
“Oh, I think I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Nope. You don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No. You. Do. Not.”
“Why not?!” He shouted, shaking me so that my teeth clicked.
“Because,” I said.
“Because why?!”
“Because you forgot.”
“What did I forget?!” He roared, his anger unhinged.
“You forgot the bounty.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.” I spat the words like a machine pistol shooting bullets.
“No. I. Did. Not!”
“Alright,” I said, as if I had given up the argument.
“At last,” he said with exasperation. “I thought you’d never shut up.”
“I guess someone else will get all of those tasty souls,” I said.
He bellowed at me, enraged. He drew back a massive hand, fingers tipped with sharp looking claws, and the world slowed. Behind Belial, Keeper Dearbhaile stepped from behind a tree, shouted something and slapped her hand to the ground. Waves of ice radiated out from her hand and raced up behind the half-demon. The rime ran up his body, encasing us.
The world snapped back to its normal speed, and I exploded into action. I thrust my feet up and slammed them into Belial’s face. At the same time, I pushed myself out and ba
ckwards from him. As I rotated upside down, Keeper Dearbhaile shouted.
“EZEERF!”
Seconds later, I was on my stomach on the ground and the half-demon was frozen solid. I rose, on shaky legs, to my feet and looked at him. He was a deep blue color now. Icicles hung from the tips of his horns and claws. He still had a swatch of my clothes in his fist. I picked up his sword from where it lay and gasped as the icy coldness shot through my hand. I looked down at the broadsword which was the pure white it had always been. I scooped up my sheathe, slid his sword in, and hung both at my left hip. Keeper Dearbhaile came up to me and I placed my arm around her shoulders.
“Carter, do ye understand how I was able tae do this?” she asked.
“You are a mage,” I said. “I don’t comprehend enough to explain further.”
“Why did these two attack ye?”
“They were sent by someone called ‘Lord Drago’.
“Who be that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I think we should continue our journey as quick as possible, though.” A thought came to me and I stepped away from her. “Before we do…” I continued, and drew the white blade.
Again, the icy coldness shot through my body. This time, the frigid temperature also ran down to my hips. Ignoring the cold as much as possible, I raised the sword up and appraised it in the afternoon light. The white metal gleamed in the sunlight. I held the most magnificent weapon I had ever seen. After deep breath and pushing Keeper Dearbhaile behind me, I twisted my body back to my right, then whipped back around, the blade leading the way. The pure white sword impacted the frozen form of Belial, son of Lucien and Zatanna, the Lich Queen of Amcorath, which detonated as if it had been filled with plastic explosive. Sheathing the white blade once more, I turned back to Keeper Dearbhaile. She placed my arm around her shoulders once more.
“Let’s go away from here, Carter,” she said.
“Agreed,” I said.
3
We walked until long after the moon rose. At last, I stopped and we sat down. I reached into my pack, pulled out the package of dried, smoked deer meat, passed the package to Keeper Dearbhaile and pulled my water skin from the pack. I took a long drink and passed it over to my companion. As she took the skin, she passed the meat back to me. I took a couple of pieces and began to eat.
“Carter, do ye know who this Angriz fellow is?”
“I don’t but those two seemed to think so. I wonder why.”
“I do nae know. Are ye goin’ tae build a fire?”
“No. I don’t know if anyone is following us and I don’t want to make it easier for them to do so.”
“Oh. Do ye think it be okay tae stop, then?”
“I would not have, but I could tell you were tired. I am too awake to sleep, so I will keep watch tonight.”
“There be a chill in th’ air,” she said.
I pulled my bedroll from my pack and passed it to her.
“Here,” I said. “This should help.”
“Thank ye.”
Keeper Dearbhaile stepped behind some bushes and I walked off a bit and stood behind a pine tree to relieve myself. After returning, and sitting with my back against a beech tree, I pulled the white blade from my sheath, detecting a faint glow in the moonlight. I placed the sword on the ground by my right hand. She came over to me, and placed the unrolled bedroll near my outstretched legs. I watched her movements, a little puzzled. She stretched out on the bedroll and placed her head on my left thigh. I smiled, pulled my shirt off and covered her. Our size difference meant she was covered from her neck to just below her hips. I closed my eyes and cast my senses out.
“Nae as awake as ye thought, eh?” She teased.
“I’m still awake,” I said. “My eyes being closed forces me to rely on my other senses. My hearing and sense of smell aren’t affected by the darkness like my eyes are.”
“How interestin’,” she said. “We Renline see in th’ dark as easy as in th’ day.”
“Sounds useful.”
“It is. Carter, may I teach ye a Renline word?”
“Of course. What word?”
“The word be ‘Rishka,’” she said.
“Sounds beautiful,” I said. “What does it mean?”
“‘Bright One.’ It be an honorific given tae loved ones.”
Keeper Dearbhaile’s breathing evened out and deepened. Sometime later, the forest resumed its night sounds. To my left, crickets made their music, to my right, I heard the croaking of frogs, somewhere ahead of me, a mouse squealed as an owl caught it. A bit later, Keeper Dearbhaile began moaning in her sleep. I placed my hand on her shoulder and her whimpering faded away. A twig snapped to my immediate right and something snuffled near my ear. I opened my eye and glanced over, starting at the close up of being sniffed by a deer. My involuntary movement spooked the animal and it sprang away. I shifted, causing the rough bark of the tree to scrape across my back. The rest of the night passed uneventful, allowing me to ponder the Walker of Worlds role. From what I was able to tell, it was just a pretentious title that allowed me a brief glimpse into the future. But, only when in immediate danger.
4
All day long, carts, wagons and pedestrians travelled by us on the wide, dirt road. Around noon, we saw why. About a mile ahead, a small town sat surrounded by what appeared to be a huge stone wall. An enormous tower rose above the settlement. The people who passed us went through a large metal gate which was open wide in welcome. There was a tangible excitement to the air.
We glanced at each other, grinned, and increased our pace. We soon arrived at the town gate. A group of five guards stood to one side, watching everyone that entered the city. I decided against approaching them. Something about them seemed unsavory.
We were astonished by the sights, sounds and smells of the town. The streets were covered with elaborate decorations: streamers entwined tree branches, magical confetti rained down, and pictures of flowers hung in windows. Some windows had large pictures of flowers that filled the glass; others had a single blossom in an upper, or a lower, pane. Pairs of small silver bells hung in front of some doors. Children sported garlands and played with wands that shot colored lights. Jugglers tossed flaming torches back and forth as they walked. Clowns cut capers to the delight of crowds of people. Happy, celebratory music wafted through the air.
We laughed out loud at the sights. A man in a white leather apron passed us fluffy pastries and waved us onward. Another man, this time wearing a light brown apron handed Keeper Dearbhaile what appeared to be a caramel apple. “Excuse me, sir,” I said. “What is going on?”
“Strangers, are ya?” He said, in what sounded like a Bronx, New York accent. “Wella, welcome ta Dunskillen Town. Tha lovely Wizard Cora is celebratin’ tha birt’ of her gran’son. An’ she’s invited tha whole town ta jine in!”
“Forgive me,” I said, “But did you say she was a wizard?”
“Yep. That I did! An’ even better, she announced tha any who coul’ answer her riddlin’ coul’ get a wish!”
“Thank you for your time, kind sir. And thank you for the treat.”
“Sure. Ya an’ yer lady enjoy th’ fair!” he said as we walked away.
I glanced at Keeper Dearbhaile as the man spoke. When she met my eyes I repeated in a whisper what the man had called her, “My lady”, causing her to grin. Soon our progress was halted by a long line.
“Why be everyone lined up?” She called out.
A blond haired woman holding a crying baby replied. “This be the line to talk to th’ wizard.”
She bounced the baby on her hip, trying to get it to stop crying, but wasn’t having any luck. I stepped into the line behind her, and Keeper Dearbhaile stood beside me. I just realized when she squeezed my hand that we had been holding hands the entire time we were in the town.
“What’s the matter with your baby?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, near tears. “I’m hopin’ tha wizard Cora might know an
’ cure her.”
“What can ye tell us about her?” Keeper Dearbhaile asked.
“She’s a Snebbli. Like mos’ of her people, she’s rather mothering: she’s always offerin’ customers tea and biscuits, engagin’ them in gossip or just as likely scolding’ them fer gamblin’ too much, or not dressing proper-like on a cold day, ya know, stuff like that. She’s fond of riddles and throws huge festivals whenever one of her chil’ren have a baby. That’s all I know of her,” the woman said.
“Thank ye fer th’ information.”
As the line moved forward, I tried everything I knew to get the baby to stop crying, but nothing worked. The mother gave me a sad smile and attempted to apologize for the noise. I started to tell her not to worry about it when she was called forward into the roped off area under an apple tree. I watched, hoping the young woman would be able to answer the riddles. She broke down in tears and was led away by a guard. A guard, close to us, looked at us holding hands and spoke the rules.
“You may both approach, but only one may attempt to answer the riddles. There is to be no conferring between you. If you do so, you will be disqualified. The person who answers the riddle gets one wish. Good fortune to you.”
We drew near the wizard who sat on a throne, looking tired and sad. The tiny woman had black hair streaked with white which hung down to her elbows. She had a round and cheerful face, lined with age and watery brown eyes.
“Who will try the riddles?” She asked in a tiny, musical voice.
“I will,” I said.
“Why not me?” Keeper Dearbhaile asked me.
“Would you like to?”
She sighed. “Nae.”
“Ready to begin?” the wizard asked.
“Yes’m.”
“Provider, devourer, a double edged blade, Man he has tamed her accepting this trade. Ravenous and hungry, must all the time feed, yet drink she must not: this will kill her indeed.”
This was similar to a riddle from my world. I was certain I had the answer.
“Fire, Ma’am.”