by James Wisher
“Of course,” the boy said. “One moment, please.”
He ducked inside and a few seconds later emerged again. “Go right in.” He held the flap open for Damien who nodded and stepped through.
The interior held the familiar table and maps. The only difference now was a lack of markers for opposing armies. The general was sitting with his head down, a book in his lap. He looked up at Damien’s approach.
“I hadn’t expected you to be the king’s messenger.” The general smiled and stood up. “Don’t they have more important things for you to do?”
“Not at the moment, and besides I volunteered.” Damien pulled a scroll with the royal seal out of an inside pocket of his cloak. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
The general took the scroll and broke the seal. “What sort of something?”
“You’ll understand better if you read the message first.”
General Kord shrugged and unrolled the message. His eyes widened a few seconds later. He looked up from the scroll. “Your father. What happened?”
“A demon apparently. I’m uncertain of all the details.” Damien struggled to keep his tone cool and professional.
The general returned his attention to the scroll. When he finished he set it on his table and sighed. “I never imagined Fredric would die so young. He always seemed invincible. I guess no one is truly invincible, are they?”
“No, sir.”
“So what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Lizzy. She told me she wants me to be her next bearer and that she wouldn’t accept anyone else.”
The general laughed. That was about what he’d expected in all honesty. “Damien, swords don’t give orders to swordsmen. The demon sword is a tool to be used as we see fit. It doesn’t have any say in the matter.”
“The thing is, General, she does have a say. Lizzy has her own will. She shares her power with her bearers because she chooses to. After all, you know she won’t work with a woman. No one has ever questioned that. If Lizzy refuses whoever you choose, all she’ll be is an exceptionally well-made sword.” Damien didn’t add that if she wished she could do far worse than remain dormant if anyone picked her up against her will.
“It’s never done that before. Why would it do so now?”
“I don’t think she ever cared before.” Damien shrugged, not wanting to talk about his relationship with Lizzy. “Considering the fact that she’s been a loyal ally to the kingdom for hundreds of years it doesn’t seem too much to ask that you respect her wishes on this.”
“Even if I agreed with you, I doubt the other generals would vote to give the sword to you. We each have our favorites. We all agreed years ago that if anything happened to your father each general would choose a champion and they’d fight to see who inherited the sword. They won’t change their minds on your say-so.”
“I understand. I just wanted to fill you in on the situation. Should the generals change their minds I’d be delighted to succeed my father as Lizzy’s bearer.”
Chapter 8
Uncle Andy had given a fine speech extolling Dad’s virtues and ignoring all of his faults. Damien had attended enough funerals to expect this. He and Jen had sat in the front row and spent two hours shaking hands, accepting condolences, and staring at an empty coffin. Every noble and merchant in the capital had turned out to offer their well wishes. Damien had no idea who most of them were and he doubted many of them had ever met his father. The funeral was more of a social event for them than anything. The whole proceeding couldn’t have ended fast enough to suit him.
After the noon meal, in an attempt to lighten the dismal atmosphere, the king had declared the tournament to select Lizzy’s new bearer would be held in the courtyard. If some found the timing in poor taste they kept their concerns to themselves. Damien was happy for anything to take his mind off Dad’s death and he suspected Jen felt the same.
The tournament rules were simple. The captain of the guard drew a rough circle in the center of the courtyard where two of the generals’ champions would square off. The loser was the one that got tossed out first. The last one standing won the right to be Lizzy’s new bearer. Fat lot of good that would do him.
Servants had brought the chairs from the funeral outside and laid them out in a circle facing the ring. Five members of the legion raised a soul force barrier to protect the spectators. Damien took a place of supposed honor between Jen and Karrie.
The princess reached out and twined her fingers with his. Damien offered her a smile. She’d been trying really hard to make him feel better and he appreciated that, but only time and an incinerated demon would put his heart at ease.
When everyone had settled in Uncle Andy said, “Let the tournament begin!”
General Kord’s champion entered the ring first, an almost seven-foot-tall blond man with so much muscle he must have weighed four hundred pounds. He had a strong, but not overwhelming, soul force. Lizzy would look like a toy in his hands. What was the general thinking, choosing someone like him as his champion?
Admiral McAllen’s champion entered next, a short, whip-thin man with a drooping mustache and a soul force that matched Jen’s. He probably fought with the sort of style that would mesh well with Lizzy and with such a powerful soul force he should have no trouble beating General Kord’s giant.
“What do you think?” Damien asked his sister.
“I think this farce is a waste of time. We should be demon hunting, not sitting here watching these fools dance around for a prize they’ll never be able to collect.” Typical blunt Jen.
The combatants accelerated to warlord speed and vanished from Damien’s sight. Various cracks and thuds sounded from the ring as they fought. All around him spectators were staring, trying to figure out what was happening. Unless they were warlords they couldn’t follow the action any better than Damien.
“How long will it take Lizzy to convince them that you’re the only option they have?” Jen asked.
“Not long. The real question is how stubborn the generals want to be about it. I warned General Kord, but I don’t think he really believed me.”
Speaking of the general, his champion came flying out of the dust, slammed into the barrier, and slumped to the ground. The admiral’s champion raised his fists in victory. The second match ended in a quick win for General Taos’s champion who ended up losing to Admiral McAllen’s man.
The barrier vanished and Uncle Andy went down to congratulate the winner. In the morning the generals and their champions would fly to The Citadel for a ceremony presenting the winner with Lizzy. Damien would have liked to be there to see what she did, but it was a private matter for the army, no sorcerers welcome.
The gathering broke up and Damien headed toward his room. Karrie showed no intention of letting go of his hand so they went together. All Damien wanted was to close his eyes and turn off his brain. Jen went the opposite way, probably to find someone to fight. He pitied anyone that took her up on the invitation.
When they reached the cool interior of the castle Karrie said, “What will you do now?”
“I’m going to take a nap.”
She smiled. “I meant in the days and weeks ahead.”
Damien stopped and turned to face her. He knew what she meant, but like his father, Damien wasn’t especially good at dealing with his emotions. He preferred to bottle them up and hope they went away. “I’m going to keep doing what I’ve been doing until things calm down, then Jen and I will hunt down the demon that killed Dad and take care of it. After that there’s still Connor Blackman to deal with.”
“What about us?”
Damien stroked her cheek and she leaned into his hand. “There’re two more years until you have to be married. You may yet find a better match than me. There’s no need to rush.”
“You’re the only one for me. We could get married tomorrow and it would be fine as far as I’m concerned.”
Damien sighed and hugged her. He hadn’t yet told Karrie
that Lizzy wanted him to be her new bearer. When she agreed to share him somehow he doubted she meant full time. “There’s too much going on now. With the repairs to the city and everything, it would be awfully self-indulgent to be planning a wedding. Don’t worry, two years isn’t that long.”
“I guess. It’s just I’m sick of waiting.” She was mumbling into his chest so Damien only half heard what she said. Still he shivered a little when she repeated Eleck’s words. The fallen druid had done horrible things because he couldn’t wait any longer to be Wise One.
Damien didn’t think Karrie would do anything foolish, but you never knew. They resumed walking and Damien escorted her to the royal quarters.
When they stopped by the door Karrie said, “Why don’t you stay for a while? Mom and Dad will be busy meeting and greeting for hours.”
From the glint in her eye he suspected she had more than talking in mind. Since they were officially engaged no one would say anything if they went for a tumble, but Damien would feel guilty about it. He still harbored hopes that she would find a man that loved her. Or maybe he just wanted someone to get him off the hook. At the very least he had to wait until the business with Lizzy got sorted out.
“Tempting, but I’m exhausted. See you at dinner?”
She pouted for a moment then nodded. “You can’t put me off forever, you know.” She kissed him then slipped into the royal apartment.
Damien stared at the closed door and shook his head, all too aware that she was right. Sooner or later he was either going to have to call the whole thing off, which would break her heart, not to mention seriously angering her parents, or accept that there was no good way out and make peace his new role.
He trudged towards his room. Damien didn’t want to think about Karrie anymore. He didn’t want to think about Dad, Connor, demons, or anything else. He just wanted to close his eyes and forget it all.
When Damien reached his room the door stood partway open. He sent power to his shield and readied a blast. With his defenses ready, Damien shoved the door open and lunged through, ready to obliterate anything waiting.
“Not exactly the greeting I expected.” Imogen lay naked on his bed, a little smile playing around her lips.
Damien gestured and the door closed. The last thing he needed was for some servant to walk by, see the two of them together, and tell Karrie. While he wanted to find a way to end the engagement, that wasn’t a method he found acceptable.
“Why are you here?” Damien tried to focus on her eyes and failed. He tried to look away and failed again. Her body was like a magnet that drew his gaze. As long as it only drew his gaze he supposed it would be okay.
“I thought you’d be sad.” She rolled out of bed and slithered across the room toward him. Imogen wrapped her arms around his neck, their lips only inches apart, her breath warm on his face. “I wanted to cheer you up. We are teammates, right?”
Damien’s mind raced as he tried to think of a way to escape Imogen without touching her. If he touched her he was finished. No man had enough willpower to resist her under these conditions. Only the mental image of a weeping Karrie and furious Uncle Andy kept him from accepting Imogen’s offer. He owed them both better than what he was contemplating.
“I told you I’m engaged, right? I know we’ve had this conversation before. While I appreciate the gesture…” Damien’s whole body shivered. He really appreciated the gesture. “I won’t go behind Karrie’s back, however you tempt me.”
Imogen stepped back, but kept her hands on his shoulders. “You know this sort of honorable behavior only makes me want you more. When you get tired of pretending with the princess, I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter 9
Once all the activities surrounding his father’s funeral wound down a relieved Damien returned to work. Even hauling debris to the fire was better than listening to people who never even knew his father telling him what a great man he was.
While Damien would never claim Dad wasn’t great, the areas of his greatness were extremely narrow and revolved around killing and teaching others how to kill. In a lot of other areas, Dad was a jerk. He had all the warmth of the steel he wielded with such skill. Despite their issues, Damien found he missed his father. It felt like one of the few constants in his life had been yanked out from under him.
He landed beside a wobbling structure that looked to have once served as a feed store. Half of it had collapsed and five guys wielding long gaffs were yanking on what remained, trying to pull it down.
“Give you fellas a hand?” Damien asked.
“We’d appreciate that,” said the group spokesman, a gray-haired man in his mid-fifties.
“Anything inside you want to salvage?”
A brief discussion ensued. When they came to a consensus the spokesman shook his head. “I doubt anything’s usable after this.”
Damien nodded, conjured a box around the ruined structure, and crushed it down to a manageable size. If only they could do the same with every damaged building the cleanup would be finished by now. The workers stared at Damien with open awe.
Damien saluted and flew off to the fire. He’d only passed the three-quarter point on his flight when a globe of his master’s soul force appeared and formed the familiar summons: throne room.
When he’d made his delivery Damien headed for the castle. Once more the throne room had been cleared of everyone but the king and archmage. Damien glanced at the archmage and raised an eyebrow. “Master?”
“The generals want you back at The Citadel as soon as possible. It seems the demon sword is giving them some trouble.”
Damien sighed. “I told General Kord Lizzy wouldn’t accept their champion. He didn’t pay me the least attention. What happened?”
“They didn’t offer details, only that they wanted you there, now.” The archmage rubbed her temples. “We’ve got other problems as well, but they’ll keep until you return.”
“Damien,” Uncle Andy said. “When you arrive try not to say ‘I told you so.’ The generals can be prickly about that sort of thing.”
He smiled and put a hand on his chest. “I’d never do such a thing.”
That brought a smile to the king’s weary face, just as Damien had hoped it would. “Just mind your manners.”
“Will do. Any messages for them?” When both his master and Uncle Andy shook their heads Damien said, “I should probably head out now.”
The familiar flight to The Citadel took only a couple hours and he arrived before noon. Not wanting to waste time Damien landed just in front of the keep doors and marched inside. The entry hall was empty as all the students remaining were out in the yard training which begged the question: Where were the generals? He shrugged and headed straight to the armory. If they weren’t there the guards could probably tell him where to go.
Damien’s footfalls echoed in the empty hall. The two warlords on guard duty straightened as he approached. He stopped and crossed his arms. “Are the generals inside?”
“We were told to send you to the commandant’s office,” the older of the two guards said. The warlord looked up and down the hall to make sure they were alone. “If you can resolve this business we’d appreciate it. We’re thoroughly sick of standing out in this hall doing nothing.”
Damien grinned, such a warlord thing to say. “I’ll do my best, guys, but I can’t make any promises.”
He left the guards and jogged across the hall to his father’s old office. They’d left the door partway open so he poked his head in. The generals, along with two of the four champions, packed Dad’s office. General Kord sat behind the desk and waved Damien in. Seeing someone else sitting in his father’s chair shocked Damien for a moment, but he shook it off. Someone else would be sitting in it from now on so he might as well get used to it.
It seemed the northern general would serve as the group’s speaker. Probably because he knew Damien the best.
Damien bowed to the room. “Gentlemen, you summoned me?”
; “Damien.” General Kord gestured to the empty chair in front of the desk. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”
Damien settled into the hardback chair. “Of course, sir. How can I help?”
“You can tell that damn sword to stop being so unreasonable and do its duty,” Admiral McAllen said. His champion was one of the two that were missing.
Damien craned his neck to look back at the admiral. “As I told General Kord, Lizzy has her own will. I can’t command her to do something she doesn’t want to any more than you can.” He turned back to General Kord. “What exactly happened?”
General Kord sighed. “When we arrived Lieutenant Stevens went directly to the armory to collect the sword. The moment he touched it his face went slack and a minute later he dropped it and told us it wouldn’t accept him and further warned him not to touch it again. Admiral McAllen ordered him to ignore the sword’s warning and take up his blade.”
Damien winced. “That might not have been the best idea.”
“No. Lieutenant Stevens was blasted into the armory wall with enough force to crack it. His core was damaged by the power overload and he hasn’t yet recovered, though the healers are optimistic.”
“I noticed another champion is also missing,” Damien said. “Did someone else attempt to pick Lizzy up against her will?”
General Kord studied the top of the empty desk. “General Taos said that as runner-up his man should have a chance to wield the demon sword. He’s still unconscious.”
Damien shook his head. “So is everyone now agreed that I should be Lizzy’s bearer?”
The generals all began shouting so that Damien couldn’t make out what any individual was saying. General Kord raised his hands, trying to calm everyone down. When the noise subsided he said, “We hoped you could convince the sword to work with our champion.”
“I thought I made it clear before. Nothing I say will change her mind. It’s me or no one.”