by Steven Drake
More than a few mouths hung open at this. Darien leaned back down in his chair, and rubbed his forehead. This was far worse than he’d imagined it would be. The Ebonscale Dragons ruled the Burning Lands in the north, along with parts of the Scouring Desert, the Frostfire Mountains, and the Freezing Wastes beyond. They were, by far, the strongest of the dragon tribes, their elders said to be old enough to remember a time before even the ancient elves, with little love for the other races.
“Oh, well that should be simple enough,” Tobin said sarcastically, attempting to break the tension. “The grown ones are fifty feet long and fire comes out of them, both ends I hear, can’t be too hard to find, eh?” No one laughed.
“I will do it,” Darien said coolly. After all, what else could be said? He had made the commitment to try, regardless of the difficulty, and this would be difficult indeed.
“Now, we must choose companions,” the Grandmaster began speaking.
“I require no escort,” the Executioner interrupted curtly. “Strength of arms is unlikely to prevail in this endeavor. One man stands as good a chance as a hundred.” He looked directly at the Grandmaster, expecting to be scolded for interrupting, but no reprimand came, only a disarming wizened look.
“I must concede that you are half correct. You will not be likely to succeed by strength alone, but though you are a clever young man, you still have much to learn before you are counted wise.” His tone was unexpectedly gentle, like that of a father scolding an errant son. Even so, Darien chafed at the term ‘young man’ though by the measures of elves, he certainly was. “I cannot say I am surprised, Executioner, that you do not quite understand that the value of comrades goes far beyond the mere strength of their sword arms. I hope that, perhaps, you will come to understand that. Therefore, a small company will be chosen. I suggest that each of the divisions of our Order send at least one representative.”
Everyone was silent for several minutes. It was Jerris who first mustered the courage to speak. “I am with you, whatever dangers you face, until the end.” The Executioner cringed inwardly at this. He would rather Jerris stay hidden and safe in Kadanar. He would rather bear his burden alone. Somehow, it seemed easier that way. “I will represent the elves. My people created these weapons, and so whatever evil they have done is partly our responsibility. We have a duty to see this quest through.”
“From the youngest comes the greatest courage,” Tobin added. “You shame us all, whelp, but if you’ll follow Darien into the maw of a dragon, I suppose I will too. If the elves have a representative, then so must the dwarves.”
“Tobin… Are you certain? I would think that this journey would be far too strenuous for someone of your…” the Grandmaster stuttered awkwardly.
“Oh just say what you mean. You think I’m too old. I’m old enough to have seen most everything, and I can tell you whelps, you don’t get too many chances for an adventure like this. I couldn’t pass this up at any age. Besides, someone has to have some idea where we’re going.” The old dwarf smiled in satisfaction, and he was right. No one here had actually been to the Burning Lands, including Tobin, but the old dwarf knew as much about the geography of the northern lands as anyone alive.
“I will send Niarie,” the Archmage added next.
“Um… Grandfa… err… Archmage, I’m very… flattered that you think that highly of me, but… I’m not exactly… well… there are a lot more experienced mages than me.”
A cloaked man who had been passively standing in the corner of the room suddenly bolted up to the table with a startled expression on his face. “Archmage, I would volunteer to go in Niarie’s place. I have superior combat experience….”
“It is my decision. I understand your concern, but I have made my choice,” the Archmage cut off the speaker. “Experience, strength, even magic may amount to little in this endeavor. Already Niarie has shown good judgment, and keen instincts, by bringing Jerris to us. That decision has already had a profound impact.”
“Um…err…As you command, Archmage,” the young girl stammered nervously as she turned white, then green, looking as though she were about to be sick at any moment.
The cloaked man seemed even more urgent now. “Then might I at least accompany Niarie, to watch over her. She has never been so far afield and I…”
“Enough, Nielas.” Eldrik spoke sharply before sighing and easing back in his chair. “I understand your feelings, but I cannot spare you. You will be needed for other duties.” The man reluctantly backed down, but was obviously unhappy about it.
“Then that leaves the Inquisition, and the Shield Knights,” the Grandmaster continued. “High Inquisitor Barris, Marshal Leonhardt, how much time do you believe you will need to choose someone?”
It was Barris who spoke first. “I frankly question the need to send any of my Inquisitors on this mission. Clearly, this falls beyond our purview. We are tasked with gathering information on our enemies, discovering our enemy’s spies, and applying more subtle tactics to influence allies. We are not fighters. Most of the Inquisitors don’t even possess magic, and aren’t trained in combat. I trust that the representatives of Sir Geoffray and Sir Eldrik will be sufficient to protect our interests.”
“With respect, High Inquisitor, since I first proposed this plan, I feel obligated to participate,” the Deputy High Inquisitor, Traiz, interrupted.
Lady Barris let out a snort and then dismissively waived her hand. “If you insist Traiz. I would prefer not to lose such a useful subordinate, but I know better than to cross you. Try not to get killed.”
Only Geoffray still had not spoken. He had been quietly sitting, stone-faced, for most of the discussion. That the Shield Knight had opposed this course of action was quite obvious to Darien, and his instinctive dislike for the man had not waned since the Tribunal. Geoffray leaned forward and spoke calmly. “You have all lost your minds, placing your faith in this man. He will leave his companions to die the moment they cease to be useful. He is no less a monster than the Demon King himself. I will not depose one tyrant only to set a new one upon that throne.” Geoffray then looked menacingly toward Jerris, and Darien’s anger rose. “It is no mere chance that this elf has suddenly appeared. The accused threatened us to buy this boy’s escape, and now the boy has appeared again. I urge you not to trust the cursed race of elves who are the authors of all the evils we face. Whatever secret plans they have, they are not our allies. They are godless, lawless, vagabonds, scattered and broken by divine judgment. I oppose this decision, Grandmaster, and I assert my right to avenge this man’s crimes personally, in a traditional trial by combat.”
“Are you mad, Geoffray?” the Archmage exclaimed. “I understand how you feel, but to risk your life in the arena? I grant you are a skilled knight, but I do not believe you can win this fight.”
“My convictions will not allow me to do otherwise. I am bound by the sacred ideals of this Order, and to ally ourselves with this… thing… goes against our very purpose.”
“Geoffray, if you insist on this course, you have the right, but I urge you, reconsider,” the Grandmaster reproached. “Trial by combat is rarely used, and fof good reason. He will have every right to kill you if he can. Even if you prevail, you may do more evil than you know.”
“I place my trust in the Seven Deities, not legends of elves, or the plans of manipulators. Sir Eldrik, Lady Barris, what say you?”
“I believe you are once again seeking to use determination and brute force to exceed your own authority, Sir Geoffray, but in this case, I will enjoy seeing you humbled,” Barris smirked as she finished.
“I cannot give a wholehearted approval,” the Archmage said gravely, “but I cannot deny that Geoffray is pure in his convictions. If he feels so strongly, perhaps we must leave the matter in the hands of the divinities.”
“Very well,” the Grandmaster sighed deeply. “Darien the Executioner, the judgement of the council has been passed, but Sir Geoffray has asserted his right to meet you in personal
combat. Under the circumstances, I will grant you the right to refuse.”
“I will fight him on one condition,” Darien smiled snidely. “If I am victorious, you will release the woman, Rana, who was arrested with me, and pardon whatever insignificant charges you have against her.”
“Agreed,” Geoffray rose and almost shouted. Darien only leaned back calmly in his chair, inwardly feeling something like excitement. Darien rarely encountered someone who he truly disliked, but everything about Geoffray, his bearing, the superiority of his tone, the conceit of his judging eyes, the high-handed judgmental righteousness that tolerated no dissent. This awakened the Executioner’s spirit of defiance. I will actually enjoy breaking this one, Darien said to himself.
Chapter 14: Light and Shadow
The council ended abruptly after Geoffray’s challenge. No more words were needed. Darien had no doubt of his victory. The Shield Knight had made the mistake of allowing Darien access to his own weapons. He had taken only his longsword, and the aetherblade, which he had called a ‘good luck charm’ and slipped into a pocket. Even without that advantage, the Shield Knight would pose little threat. Geoffray should know that. The Shield Knight would feel the difference in the strength of their magical auras, just as Darien could. The Shield Knight seemed prepared to die in this combat, but whether blind pride or some other purpose drove him, Darien had no intention of giving the fool a glorious death. No, Darien would injure him, and threaten him with worse, until he gave up. Breaking a man’s spirit was, after all, so much more useful than simply killing him.
It took a few hours to make the preparations and clear the nearest arena of civilians. By the time the arena was prepared, the afternoon sun blazed orange in the west, sending long shadows across the ground of the arena. Like everything else in Trinium, the walls of the arena were white stone, polished and oiled to reflect the light. Even the empty benches were white. Darien hated it. The shining city was needlessly showy and drab at the same time, an unimaginative monotone that screamed of righteousness in a voice so shrill that it deafened all listeners. Only the arena floor broke the contrast of white on white. A thin layer of yellow sand lay over a hard dirt surface. The gathering darkness from the lengthening shadows and the sunlight reflected off the shining white stone walls mixed with the incongruous silence of the empty arena to lend an eerie dread to the entire proceeding, a feeling which the Executioner embraced.
Only a few observers watched the proceedings, those who had been in the council chambers, and a dozen or so guards who were charged with keeping everyone else away. Geoffray’s weapon of choice was a two-handed longsword, the same weapon favored by Rana. On top of everything else, Darien had the advantage of sparring against a comparable fighter for the past year. Darien wielded only his longsword, but would scarcely need it. The two men stood about ten yards apart, eyeing each other.
The Grandmaster raised a hand high above his head to signal the fighters to the ready. Darien’s muscles tensed, his senses sharpened, his heart quickened, and his ordinarily troubled mind grew calm and serene. Part of him loved battle, the simplicity of it, the raw, unwavering truth that it revealed. In battle, there was no law, no rank, no status, no race, and no pretense of civilization, only life and death, simplicity itself. Past and future faded into irrelevancies. His thoughts focused only on the moment, the battle, himself and his opponent. In those few moments, Darien the Executioner felt a kind of peace that he could find nowhere else.
The Grandmaster dropped his hand and shouted, “Begin!” Geoffray wasted no time. Darien felt the magic intensify in his opponent, adding speed to his strides, and more power into the coming strike, but Darien reacted to the attack even before Geoffray made it, stepping off to the side while the overhand strike glided harmlessly past, then grazed the sandy arena floor. Geoffray continued swinging. Each magically enhanced strike contained enough strength to slice a man in half, but it took far too long for the knight to make them. By the time the Shield Knight had aimed an attack and channeled enough magic into his limbs to give the attack its speed and power, Darien had already begun to dodge, and anticipate the next attack.
Darien made no move to attack, instead focused on dodging. Geoffray’s massive weapon had limited means of attack. The swings were necessarily long and wide. Such a large weapon was well suited for the battlefield, where a single swing could scatter a group of foes but less effective in single combat, especially in a large open area.
More than this, a year of sparring with Rana had made him familiar with the style of the Shield Knights, and he found Geoffray to be even more predictable. Surprisingly, Rana had been faster, at least recently. This battle was less intense than some recent sparring sessions. It seemed that Rana had gone beyond her master.
Darien allowed Geoffray to continue to swing in futility for several minutes. Left, right, horizontal slashes and vertical, Darien simply moved where the blade was not. This was just the first step in the thorough humiliation Darien had planned. Geoffray grew more animated, perhaps realizing what was happening, but it only made him angrier. Darien, by contrast, showed no emotion. His face remained blank, a featureless wall, and that only seemed to make his opponent angrier. Geoffray screamed and launched his best attack yet, a horizontal slash that arced across a full half circle, but Darien leapt over the blade as it passed, and in a continuous motion, made his first attack, striking the flat of his sword against Geoffray’s shining helm with a thunderous clang that echoed through the arena.
Geoffray stumbled backwards disoriented, but to his credit, kept his guard raised. Darien simply waited and watched calmly. The former Shade felt a vortex of magic a few feet to his right on the surface of the arena, and he knew what was coming. He stepped left as the conical spear of earth launched out of the ground, then wrapped his hand round the end of the spear and whirled around it. Geoffray redoubled his attack, launching several more spears of earth and sand that erupted all at once from all around. Darien stood motionless, allowing Geoffray to believe for an instant that his attack would succeed, but in the instant that the spears would have hit, Darien shattered them into a cloud of dust that drifted harmlessly into him. A flurry of lightning bolts came next, but Darien caught them with the metal in his sword, and flung it towards the arena wall, where it flew up over the stands and struck a column, which cracked and fell over.
“Damn you!” the knight growled. “Toying with me. I’ll show you respect.” Darien felt tremendous magical energy building up all around him, Geoffray’s strongest spell yet. Instead of unleashing the spell, Geoffray charged. Darien prepared to dodge left, but even as he did so, the Shield Knight activated his spell, and a wall of earth rose up around Darien on all sides, leaving an open space perfectly sized to make Geoffray’s attack impossible to dodge. An excellent strategy, Darien thought. The knight does have tremendous physical strength, amplified several times over by magic, and this attack forces me to match strength with strength. Very well, time to show this fool how badly outclassed he truly is.
Darien pulled the moisture out of the air and into his left hand and froze it, forming a circle of ice, while he positioned his sword with his right. Geoffray’s swing met both Darien’s sword and his makeshift shield with a tremendous crash. The blow pushed Darien back against the rock wall, which trembled under the stress. It was all Geoffray could do to hold the spell and power his attack at the same time. Finally, all momentum ceased and the trembling stopped with it. The blow had bent Darien’s sword, and pushed through the ice shield enough to draw blood from the palm of his hand. The pain did not trouble him; in fact, it almost felt good to bleed, a sensation so familiar it had become comfortable.
Geoffray’s sword remained lodged in the ice, so he jerked backwards, and smiled, now filled with confidence from disarming his opponent. Still, his aura had weakened considerably. He would not be able to generate another attack like that. Instead, Geoffray unleashed more lightning bolts. By its nature, lightning was near impossible to dodge. Darien c
ould, but chose not to. Instead he allowed the first two bolts to hit him, prepared for the shock. Darien stumbled backwards, feigning disorientation while stealthily drawing the aetherblade from its hiding place. Geoffray rushed in, attempting to end the battle, and the battle would soon be over, but not the way Geoffray intended.
The timing had to be perfect. Geoffray charged, aiming a broad overhand strike. Darien collected sand around his aetherblade into the shape of a sword. An instant later, intense heat turned the sand to glass while he positioned himself beneath the blow to block it with the glass sword. The next moment, Geoffray’s blade impacted the glass, and shattered it, but the angle of impact deflected the blow slightly away to the right. The blade whirred within inches of Darien’s right ear, a high-pitched hum built to a crescendo as it approached then faded to silence within the span of less than a second.
The shock from the surprise of the aetherblade and the strength of Geoffray’s follow-through had left him off balance and open. The Executioner closed his trap quickly. With a subtle motion of his free hand and a sudden gust of conjured wind, the tiny pieces of shattered glass flew up at the knight’s head. Where the knight’s shining helmet protected him, he was unharmed, but where it did not, the tiny projectiles found their mark, ripping into his eyes, and beneath his chin around his neck. The knight lurched about, blinded, and bleeding profusely from the neck, fortunate that none of the shards had caught the crucial artery in his neck. Still, the fight was over.
“Stupid, arrogant fool. After seeing me dodge all those attacks, after blocking your most powerful attack, did you really believe you could win?” Darien gloated at his blinded opponent. “Yield, and I will spare your life.”