by Kris A Hiatt
“Believe it,” her father told him.
“Drevic would never purposely stone-face someone,” Moffred proclaimed. “Neither would Nimbril for that matter.”
“You didn’t know Nimbril like I knew him,” Kint argued.
“He actually said he’d stone-face you?” Treace asked.
“Well, no,” her father admitted. “He didn’t come right out and say it, but he didn’t have to. He said we’d pay if we taught anyone or shared the old ways of teaching with anyone. Isn’t it obvious what he meant?”
“I’m still not buying it,” Moffred said.
“Are you calling my father a liar?” Kiril asked. It came out more forcefully than she had intended.
“No one’s calling anyone a liar,” Treace replied. “It’s just that the man we knew wasn’t capable of doing what your father is describing.”
“Truntil would disagree with you,” Kint countered.
“You don’t know that,” Treace pleaded.
“And yet I do,” her father assured them. “I was Truntil’s other partner.”
“Other partner?” Moffred asked.
Kiril was trying to keep up with everything that was being said. It was like she was learning about the history of the College through these stories. She didn’t really care for what she’d heard so far. It didn’t paint the College in a very good light. But she did suppose that since she was only hearing of one specific instance, they may not all be bad.
“Truntil asked me to help him cast magic from afar,” Kint explained. “He believed it could be done.”
“But Drevic told us that Nimbril helped him with that,” Moffred argued.
“Oh, he did,” her father agreed. “Sometimes. Nimbril often tried talking Truntil out of it, saying he didn’t want Truntil to get hurt. But then Truntil got tired of his friend’s unwillingness to help and came to me.”
“Go on,” Treace instructed.
“There was a period of four or five months where Truntil and I worked on it in secret, even from Nimbril,” her father went on. He paused to take a drink of water. “He said Nimbril had made him promise not to attempt it anymore. Which Truntil agreed to because of the fear he saw in Nimbril’s eyes.”
“He still doesn’t sound like the kind of man who’d kill his friend,” Moffred said. “It sounds like exactly the opposite.”
“Oh, you’d think,” Kint told him. “But Truntil thought Nimbril was jealous of his power. When the two of them were experimenting with what they called blood magic, Nimbril found out that Truntil was in love with the same woman he was.”
“So you think he killed him out of jealousy?” Treace asked.
“Many men have died over a beautiful woman,” her father replied, looking directly at her.
It was true. Men often fought over a woman, but Kiril didn’t think it was something those men should be lauded for. Most of the time they were fighting over a woman as if she was something one of them possessed. She was not a man’s possession, nor would she ever be.
“Did Truntil tell you he feared for his life?” Moffred asked.
“Not that he feared for his life, but that he thought Nimbril might retaliate somehow,” her father responded. “But he dismissed it shortly after saying Nimbril wasn’t the jealous type.”
“See? You just said Truntil didn’t think Nimbril would do anything,” Treace pointed out.
“Would and did are two different things,” her father explained. “But here’s why I think he did it. Truntil and I figured it out!”
“How to cast from a distance?” Treace asked.
Kiril could hear the excitement and wonder in Treace’s voice. It was clear to her that he was deeply involved in using magic. That or he had something to gain from the knowledge of it.
“Yes,” Kint confirmed. “We couldn’t quite do it every time, but close to it. We practiced it for weeks before Truntil went to Nimbril. I advised against it, but he said that he wanted to show Nimbril that it could be done. He hoped that Nimbril would join us after he saw that it was possible. Truntil was convinced the three of us could perfect it together.”
“And that’s when Truntil became stone-faced, isn’t it?” Treace asked.
“Yes,” her father said somberly.
Kiril had never heard that story before and it had been a long time since she had seen her father look so sad. She reached over and rubbed his back to comfort him.
“That still doesn’t mean he killed him,” Moffred argued.
“But it makes sense that he could have,” Kiril chimed in, drawing a look from the other three.
“What makes you so certain?” Treace asked.
She looked to her father to see if he was going to silence her again. When it became apparent that he wasn’t, she cleared her throat before talking again. “If Truntil had been successful at doing it and was practicing it with my father for months, it doesn’t make sense that he would stone-face himself after he had already become good at it. You’d think that would’ve happened sooner.”
“That is true,” Moffred agreed.
“Even if he did,” Treace said, looking at her father. “And I’m not saying I believe he did. But, if he did, why wouldn’t you tell anyone what you thought?”
“At the time, I believed him. But then after the shock and grief wore off, I began to wonder. I drew the same conclusions as Kiril did. I thought about going to him directly and asking him, but I was scared. What if he did do it? If he could do that to his best friend then he wouldn’t have any qualms doing it to me too.”
“You could have just went with other people,” Treace suggested. “And not gone in alone. Surely you would have been safe then.”
“Possibly,” Kint agreed. “But I wasn’t close with any of the others, and I didn’t know if any of them suspected anything like I did. If I accused him in front of others without any proof, I’d likely be removed. Sure, they may have their suspicions too, but if I was wrong, I’d likely be condemning the man.”
It made sense to her. If she suspected the man that she worked for had killed her former boss, she wouldn’t trust him either. Even if he was innocent. The doubt would have been cast. Nimbril wouldn’t have stayed in power even if he was innocent.
“And after you were asked to step down? Why not confront him then?” Treace asked.
“Simple fear, young man. And since he paid us to quit, it was easier just to retire and leave it all behind us. Besides, nothing we could do would bring Truntil back.”
Kiril could see the difficulty Treace was having with this. She could read his face easily. He wanted to believe the man he knew was innocent, but the facts laid out before him spoke otherwise. It may not be irrefutable, but it cast a shadow of doubt for sure. She wasn’t certain herself, but she knew her father believed it to be true, and that was good enough for her. She doubted they would ever know exactly what happened. “What’s done is done. There were only two men who knew the truth of what happened that night,” Kiril reminded them. “And both of them are dead.”
“I will say it is plausible,” Moffred said after a few moments of thought.
“While I agree that you fully believe it to be true,” Treace told her father. “I’ll fully support your right to do so if you allow me to believe he didn’t.”
“Fair enough. But then you have to support my right not to see your Archmagister. I don’t want to give him the opportunity to make good on what Nimbril promised. If they were close, Nimbril could have passed that skill on to him.”
“Highly unlikely,” Moffred said.
“I’m not willing to take that chance with my father’s life,” Kiril told them.
“You two were close, weren’t you?” Treace asked.
“Truntil?” Kint asked.
“Yeah.”
“We were,” her father admitted.
“Then I’m sorry for your loss,” Treace replied.
“Thank you, young man,” Kint told him. “He’s still here, in part.”
&nb
sp; Her father pulled a stray strand of hair from her face as he spoke. He had done that for as long as she could remember.
“I’m sure you hold him in your heart,” Treace offered.
“And I named my daughter after him,” Kint replied. “Well, him and her mother.”
“What?” Kiril asked. She didn’t know that. He had never mentioned her being named after anyone before.
“Kireen and Truntil,” her father explained. “Two of the most influential people in my life. Both of whom I lost.”
It made sense to her then. She never knew her mother. She had died giving birth to her. She felt horribly when her father told her and she had cried for hours. She begged him to forgive her. She remembered hearing him ask what there was for him to forgive. When she told him she wanted forgiveness for killing her mother, the man broke down instantly and cried along with her. He held her tight and told her there was nothing to forgive and that it wasn’t her fault. Even though she was only ten then, she remembered that conversation clearly.
“Treace, do you swear to keep my daughter safe?” Kint asked, drawing her from her thoughts.
It was clear to her that there was something wrong. There was something on her father’s face she hardly ever saw. She became alarmed immediately. Her father spoke in a deathly serious tone and looked out the window, but from her vantage point she didn’t see anything through it.
“From what?” Treace asked.
“Do you?” her father asked excitedly. “Swear it!”
“Yes, sure, I swear,” Treace told him, looking confused.
“Kiril,” Kint said, looking directly at her. “Go with them. Go with them now. Run!”
Just as he said it the door smashed open, startling her and nearly making her fall out of her chair.
“Well I’ll be damned if you aren’t home,” the large man bellowed.
Kiril had seen him before. He had stopped by, introduced himself as the King’s captain, and asked if Kint was home. She lied and said she was the housemaid and that her employer was in Haven. The last time he was at the door, however, he didn’t have a massive sword that was nearly as long as she was tall slung over his shoulder.
“What the hell, don’t you knock?” Treace asked as he turned to face the door. His voice got higher as he finished his question. The massive man kicked the chair Treace was sitting in and both it, and he, went flying.
“Knock, knock,” Disdane said, laughing.
“Hey, get out of here!” Moffred commanded, standing up.
Kiril bet he wished he didn’t, because as soon as he did, Disdane smashed his large fist into his face, sending him crashing to the floor.
“Run!” her father screamed. “Now!”
Kiril was frozen. She had sparred with her instructor but she had never been in any real fights. In fact, she thought her punch to Moffred’s nose was the first solid punch she’d thrown outside of training. She watched as Treace pulled himself off of the floor and started for the large man.
“You?” Treace asked, eyes going wide.
“You!” Disdane echoed, only there was hatred in both his eyes and voice.
“Moff, run!” Treace yelled.
“I will kill every one of you traitors,” Disdane informed them through clenched teeth.
“Come on big boy,” Treace beckoned.
Treace dove headfirst through the window and was gone from her sight. Disdane snarled at her before turning and running out the door, presumably after Treace. She didn’t have time to watch, however, she had to check on her father. She ran over to him to find that he was under the table that had been knocked over when Treace was sent flying. Moffred was on top of the table trying to scramble to his feet.
“Oh, my nose!” Moffred squeaked.
She did feel bad for the man. She may have hit him hard, making his nose bleed, but it was clear that Disdane’s punch had broken it. She pulled him up and ripped the table off of her father. Outside she heard Disdane grunting in effort, which she took for either him swinging his fists or his sword at Treace. She didn’t give the smaller man very good odds.
“I’m fine. Now go, and take him with you,” her father bade her, getting to his feet and gesturing to Moffred.
“What are you going to do?”
“Buy you time. Now go with them and get somewhere safe.”
“Dad, no!” Kiril exclaimed. “You can’t fight him!” There was no way she was going to let her dear father fight that monster outside.
“Kiril, go!” her father yelled. His face softened quickly and he took her face in his hands. “I love you, girl.”
Kiril felt tears well in her eyes when her father kissed her forehead. She knew full well that he was saying goodbye and it broke her heart.
“Come on,” Moff instructed as he grabbed her arm. Blood poured from his nose.
She wanted to resist and convince her father that he shouldn’t fight the man, but she reminded herself that his magic was powerful. If any of them hope to survive, it would be due to her father. She relented and let Moffred lead her out.
Her father went out the door first, Moffred second, with her last, following closely behind. She appreciated the fact that Moffred was clearly in pain and yet he was still in front of her as if he could protect her. Although she guessed she would fare far better against Disdane than he would. Not that she would fare very well, but still.
“Moffred, get them out of here!” Treace yelled.
~~~
Treace hoped he could buy them enough time to get away. It was clear to him in the short amount of time that he fought Disdane that this man was like no one he had ever faced before. This man, a lefty, used a sword larger than any other he’d seen. It wasn’t much longer, if any, but it was much thicker than the greatswords he’d seen before. The man that wielded it stood about a foot taller than Treace was. He also easily outweighed him by a hundred pounds. His legs seemed like each one of them were as big around as Treace’s whole body! Treace thought he was in good physical condition himself, but Disdane’s biceps were nearly as big as Treace’s legs. The man was simply massive.
He dodged backward, barely getting out of the way of a sweeping attack from that greatsword. He’d fought a few opponents who used a greatsword for a weapon, and while those men were big and strong, none of them were as big or as strong as his current foe was. More importantly, none of them were nearly as fast as he was. Treace had already dodged well over a dozen attacks. On the first occasion he drove in at the man’s side thinking he had a quick victory only to be forced into a full diving headlong roll to avoid being cut in two as that sword came back at him impossibly fast. None of his previous opponents could have even hoped to make that move, let alone make it with the practiced ease the man demonstrated.
He could hope to tire the larger man, but by the amount of energy he was having to use to keep out of the way of those attacks, he wondered if he wouldn’t run out of energy first.
He feinted left and took a step to the right only to find Disdane’s sword already coming in at him from that side. Again he had to jump backward to avoid being cleaved in two.
So far he hadn’t seen a weakness. He hadn’t seen any apparent openings he could exploit. He knew it could take time. Every fighter had a routine they fell back on if pressed hard enough. The problem was that Treace was hardly able to make any offensive moves of his own. He had to concentrate on his defenses so much that he didn’t want to risk going on the offensive just yet. With a blade over five feet in length and arms as long as trees, Treace had to be very careful to stay out of striking range. But if he was at range, that meant Treace, with much shorter swords, couldn’t hope to land a solid strike, let alone find a decisive one. He would have to find a way inside of those attacks sooner rather than later if he wanted to get out of this alive.
Normally he could parry attacks with one sword while he attacked with his other. It was one of the benefits of fighting with his unique two weapon style. But in this case, there was no way h
e could parry one of those massive attacks with one of his swords. He doubted he could deflect an attack well enough with both of them, let alone just one! He dodged back, narrowly avoiding another blow. He had to try to get inside the man’s reach, but that in itself was a dangerous proposition. He had to try.
“Dance little dog, dance,” Disdane mocked.
Treace half-stepped back and put all his weight on his right foot, coiling on it and getting ready to unwind as soon as that sword came in from the side. “Let me lead for a while,” Treace said as he prepared to launch into his attack.
Disdane’s sword came in on an angle, almost as if he knew what Treace was trying to do. Had he sprung forward into that attack he probably would have lost a few inches off his entire left side. Instead he unwound with the coil to his right, spinning behind the larger blade and placing his back to Disdane. Not smart in many instances, but risking a future hit was far better than losing an arm not doing so.
He snapped his head around, putting the dangerous man back into sight as fast as he could. As he expected, the backhand swing followed the previous downward cut. It was really the only move his opponent could make, and he was ready for it. He dropped backward, keeping his feet yet leaning back as far as he could, hoping the blade would fly over him. If not, he would be done for. The strain on his legs and ankles from being at such an awkward angle told him he couldn’t go any lower.
He felt the wind from the blade as it rushed by, just inches from him. He heard a whooshing sound as it passed.
He placed his left hand on the ground, still clutching his sword, and threw his weight over his left side as he picked up his right leg and snapped it over his left. He let his momentum carry him back up to his feet and he slung his left sword out behind him as he spun toward the large man.
He felt his sword connect even as he pulled hard against the handle of his other sword, bringing it in as fast as he could to follow the first. He heard the large man grunt in pain. He knew he’d have to be fast as he was expecting a two-handed forehand swing from Disdane.