Crimson Blade

by Corey Soreff

  “I would press further to feed my curiosity, but I am well aware of the strength of your resolve.” Anania smiled. “Anyway, like I told you before, we expect the Liche King to make an appearance at this tournament. We want you at your strongest.”

  “What of your pet Kuldric? Isn’t he your hero?” Eucibous inquired.

  “Kuldric is strong. But we are not so foolish as to gamble the fate of Darnesia on one of our favored knights. This is big, and Sargath has declared war. We do not expect nor ask of you to do anything to aid us. We simply realize that whatever havoc you might wreak here will pale in comparison to what the world will become if Sargath wins the war. They have also realized that had you not intervened those twenty some years ago, there would have been constant war to this day, where we have had peace.” Passion burned in her eyes as she spoke. “The balance must be held.”

  Eucibous whispered a word and the illusion broke, once again revealing the tall, muscular, crimson haired warrior feared throughout the world. “Tell your knights I will kill the Liche, and I appreciate the warm welcome from Darnath. I am sorry for the lives I have taken, but such is the result of battle. I remind you of the legions I let go free the day of Dalin’s demise, although they still viewed me a tyrant.”

  Anania pulled Eucibous into her arms, holding him tight and burying her face into his chest. “Your words please me! I knew as I watched you from above that you were not the monster Sargath painted you to be.” She kissed him on the cheek and grabbed his hand. “That night….” She began as her cheeks turned red. “That night…was real. And now it is even more real to me as I see the good within you.”

  Eucibous had never felt so moved in his life. All the women he had slept with had been pure entertainment, he had never felt attached. Yet he could not take his mind off this woman ever since they had met. I am a fool. I am falling for a Goddess.

  Anania stared into his eyes adoringly. I am a fool. I am falling for a human. But I do not care! “Fight well, my handsome rebel.” She let go of his hand and stepped away, fading into the wall and disappearing from sight.

  On the other side of the combatant hall, Grymmbeard growled like an animal. “The fool! Look at ‘im, stricken by trickery!”

  Lok shook his head as he studied the face of his friend and mentor. “No, Grymm, he is stricken by love.” Lok thought of his wife back home, who was pregnant with his first child. He sighed, hoping he would be home in time to witness the birth of his firstborn.

  “Ladies and gentleman! You are here today to witness the strongest in the world test their might against one another!” The announcer stood at a podium above the arena, his voice echoing throughout the stands due to a spell cast by the King’s mages. “Our first match starts now! On the blue side, we have Jorge, a human battlemage! On the red side, we have Sir Brennan, a Captain of the Knights of Darnillus here in Darnath! Wagers can be placed at the booths at the bottom of each seating section! May the best man win!”

  Cheers roared throughout the seats of the arena as men and women waited eagerly to witness the best fighters in the world, and perhaps witness some bloodshed. They might be noble lords and ladies in the courts, but here they were animals, feeling free to act on their instincts which yearned for a gruesome show. The peasants that could afford to be here were glad to watch as the fighters above their own social stature are reduced to a pile of flesh.

  The gates on each side of the arena opened, and the fighters stepped into sight. Each stopped in front of their own gate, as was custom, giving ample room between the contestants when the match started.

  Knights in the audience cheered on their Captain, who was popular among his men. He waved at them all with a grin, then looked forward and prepared for battle, withdrawing a longsword and shield. He studied his opponent but could discern nothing of his technique. Any armor or weapons were hidden beneath his black robe. All he knew of the man was that he was a battlemage. Brennan hated battlemages, who mixed sorcery with weaponry. He stood ready in a battle stance waiting for the match to start, but nothing happened, no sign was given.

  Just then, the gigantic tapestries that hung on each side of the arena depicting the matchups were torn down. Arena workers scurried to take them all down and replace them with new ones. Brennan wondered what the reasoning for this was as they finished hanging the new ones, since he noticed no differences from the previous matchups as his eyes scanned the names. He was almost done reading all the names as his confusion was swept away abruptly. He had almost scanned right past it, but quickly returned his glance to the name in question. Whispers could be heard echoing throughout the arena as a mix of surprise, fear, excitement, and pleasure spread throughout the audience.

  Eucibous Dan’anti. Brennan could not believe his eyes. The knighthood had been under orders to slay the infamous man on sight, but apparently things had changed. He looked up to the area in the audience reserved for royalty, and noticed no concern on the faces of his King and Queen. Great, Brennan thought, it seems I’ll have my hands full with battlemages this evening.

  Brennan was a seasoned knight, however. He was not one to be flustered by the news and let it affect his current match. He tightened the grip on his sword and shield and kept his eyes fixed ahead at the robed battlemage. One at a time.

  The gong sounded. The match began.

  The battlemage began sprinting across the arena, heading straight for Brennan. Brennan held his defensive stance, prepared to receive whatever attack might be thrown at him. He was not expecting such a direct attack from a mage, although many battlemages preferred to fight with weapons enhanced by their spells. Jorge had almost reached him when he suddenly stopped and extended his hand forward, whispering the words to a spell. A curtain of darkness fell over the arena. Those watching the fight could no longer see the combatants, and those fighting could no longer see each other. This is why I hate mages, Brennan thought. He crouched lower, not knowing where an attack might come from. I cannot see him…so the only way to attack is to counter. He heard Jorge say a few more words, and a beam of light suddenly hit his shield. There was no force behind the hit, however, and Brennan wondered at the spell’s purpose. He quickly glanced at where his shield would be and saw a small light glowing, the only illumination within the curtain of darkness. Curses! I should have moved!

  Jorge had cast a simple marking spell. Not very useful on its own, but combined with the curtain of darkness, he could see an opponent that could not see him.

  Brennan heard footsteps running in circles around him, and he was preparing to stage an attack judging by the location of the sounds, when the footsteps stopped. Jorge had cast another spell silencing his steps. Brennan sighed in frustration. He felt something whisk by to his right, and lashed out with his sword, striking nothing solid. The darkness paved the way for panic; even the most cool-headed warrior could get flustered with the loss of sight and hearing. He continued to strike out wherever he thought he felt movement, to no avail. And then he felt something wrap around his wrist, it felt like some sort of chain. Reacting quickly like the trained warrior he was, Brennan grabbed the chain instead of trying to escape it, and quickly dashed towards where the chain came from. He gave it a slight tug to judge how much distance lay between him and the source of the chain. Relying on his analytical skills and instinct, he struck forward with his shield when he thought he had reached his destination. Got him! Brennan couldn’t see his opponent, but he had surely felt his heavy shield smash off the face of his opponent, who jumped backwards after taking the blow.

  Just as Brennan was about to continue his attack, however, he heard the sound of more chains surrounding him. A moment later, chains struck him from every angle, wrapping around his torso and limbs. He struggled to move, but found the chains held him securely in place.

  Jorge no longer needed to hide. He confidently and loudly mouthed the words to a spell. Brennan heard him and continued to struggle, but could not break free. When the spell was complete, light shone within the darkne
ss, in the form of lightning. Bright and powerful electricity shot throughout the chains, electrocuting the knight imprisoned within. Then all was dark again for Brennan.

  The audience yelled in fury, annoyed that they could not see what was happening in the fight. They saw some flashes of light within the curtain of darkness in the arena, coupled with loud crackling sounds. Then the curtain of darkness lifted.

  Jorge stood in the center of the arena, still covered by his cloak that concealed the weapons within. Sir Brennan lay unconscious on the ground, and nobody knew for sure if he would ever get back up. No sign of the chains could be seen, and the details of the fight eluded the onlookers. If one looked hard enough, however, they might have seen blood dripping from the face of the battlemage.

  Jorge smiled, his face hidden by his cloak. You got me, knight.

  A medical team rushed out and retrieved Sir Brennan, taking him back to the clinic to be evaluated for injuries.

  And Eucibous stood in the combatant hall watching the fight from viewing slits in the wall, a big grin on his face. “Interesting!” He exclaimed. Jorge….eh? He hoped he would have a chance to fight in that darkness.

  “The mysterious Jorge moves on to the next round! We will not keep you waiting for the next match. The next combatants will be...” The announcer referred to his documents depicting the order of the fights. “On the blue side, hailing from the wondrous land of Elnerad, home of the elves! Kilan, renowned elf ranger!”

  The blue side’s gate opened, and out stepped Kilan. He was a thin elf, as most were. Golden hair fell over his shoulders, and he wore only a dark green tunic and pants. A bow and quiver were strapped to his back, and a short sword at his waist. He elegantly strode into the arena and bowed to the audience and the King. Then he smiled, and reached into his tunic to remove three apples. Grasping the apples, he heaved them as hard as he could into the air, and all three apples flew in different directions. Then, in the blink of an eye, he drew his bow and had already knocked an arrow. He let loose the arrow, and it soared towards one of the apples. The moment the first arrow left the string, however, Kilan had already knocked a second, and likewise again with the third after firing that. All three arrows flew gracefully through the air, and struck true. They pierced the three apples directly through the center, the momentum of the strike pushing the apples embedded with arrows into the audience. Onlookers wrestled in the audience to try to be the ones to retrieve the prizes. Those who successfully caught the apples jumped in excitement, pumping the apple into the air repeatedly while cheering. The arena erupted in applause and cheers. They had never seen such skill in archery. Kilan bowed once more and then stood awaiting his opponent.

  “Next, on the red side, a mercenary representing none other than the infamous Crimson Blade! A human by the name of Lok, the first recruit of the legendary group!”

  The red gate opened, and Lok stepped forward. Only whispers could be heard from the audience, the people unsure of their thoughts on any members of the Crimson Blade. He wore his green leather armor; and his signature green headband. He was still one of the fastest men alive, but his age sometimes required him to wear lighter armor to maintain his speed. He held his famed halberd equipped with enchanted rubies in his right hand, standing firm and without emotion. There would be no fancy tricks from Lok. He smiled wide, as he always did, and briefly waved to the audience. He then looked at Kilan across the arena, and nodded. “Hey, elf! May your arrows find their mark!” Some might have taken it as a sarcastic remark, but those knowing Lok could see the sincerity in that smile and his words.

  Kilan returned the nod, but not the smile. “And may your halberd strike swift.”

  “Ladies and gentleman, let the match begin!” The announcer said, and the crowd cheered in anticipation. The gong sounded, and the gates behind the combatants closed.

  Lok immediately had to dodge several arrows as they flew by his face, fired the moment the match had begun. He began to jog around the edge of the arena, slowly making his way over to the elf, and fighting off incoming arrows the entire way. It seemed the elf had a never-ending quiver, for so many arrows continuously came his way. Had they been fired at a less talented fighter, the match would have ended within seconds. But Lok expertly dodged each arrow while continuing to edge closer to the elf.

  Lok then noticed the elf shoot one more arrow, but not following it with more as he had been doing. When it left the string, the elf concentrated on that one arrow, closing his eyes and whispering words of power. His eyes reopened abruptly, and at the same moment, the arrow he had fired split into twenty more. All of these soared towards Lok, but each came from a different direction, making it near impossible to dodge. Not only that, but each of them glowed with a radiance producing unknown effects. Lok had a feeling he couldn’t just dodge these new threats.

  Lok bent his knees, building up tension in his legs, and leaped into the air. He was approximately twenty feet in the air, and the audience gasped in awe. Most men couldn’t even jump a few feet, and they were witnessing a man flying gracefully so high in the air. Anyone expecting the attack to have failed was immediately proved wrong however, when all the arrows changed direction before impact, all of them now heading straight up into the air at Lok. As Lok hung briefly suspended in the air, fighting the pull of gravity luring him back to the ground, he turned downwards to face the ground. He began spinning like a drill as he began his descent, also spinning his halberd in wide circles simultaneously. All present in the arena were about to learn why some refer to Lok as ‘The Tempest.’

  While in the first split second of the maneuver onlookers assumed he planned to block the arrows with the spinning shield of a halberd, they were surprised when violent winds began flowing from the weapon, bursting forth from the storm that was Lok. Gusts of air shot forward from Lok as he descended, flying in all different directions. The audience was struck by apparent hurricanes, and Kilan dug his heels into the ground attempting to stay standing. The winds produced by the magnificent technique blasted away all the incoming arrows, knocking them back to the ground. All of them buried themselves in the dirt, and that entire side of the arena erupted in a huge explosion.

  Good thing I didn’t block them! Lok thought. He halted his downward spin, still falling through the air, smiling at Kilan the entire way. Before he hit the ground though, he faded from view.

  Kilan was a ranger, adept in the skill of tracking. Added to that was the superior vision of elven eyes. Lok was fast, but Kilan was one of the best. He may not have been able to match Lok’s speed with his own eyes, but he could sense his location and direction of movement. Kilan threw his bow and quiver to the ground, acknowledging his opponent would not be defeated in such a way. He drew his short sword, and also a dagger from his leg. Almost immediately after drawing his weapons, he was forced to raise both of them to block an incoming strike by Lok.

  Lok figured the elf would know his attack was coming, but that wouldn’t stop him from attacking. The halberd came down strong at Kilan, met by the resistance of a combined block from the short sword and dagger. When the strike connected, the rubies on Lok’s halberd flashed, and the impressive weapon cut directly through the defending weapons. Kilan was not about to be defeated in one blow, and the moment the weapons were cut he jumped back, just barely avoiding the attack to the chest.

  Wasting no time and without fear, Kilan kicked up some dirt into Lok’s face, temporarily blinding him. Every second mattered. Right after, he followed up with a spinning back fist to the side of Lok’s head, which was blocked by Lok’s forearm. The elf then attempted a head butt, but Lok easily dodged and reacted by launching off the ground, bringing his knee up to meet the elf’s chin. Considering the momentum with which Lok was able to jump off the ground, when the knee connected there was an incredible amount of force behind the blow, since all that energy that would have sent Lok flying blasted instead into Kilan’s chin.

  Kilan’s head snapped back, and his body was forced high up into
the air. Such a blow surely rocked the brain within, which is the cause of a knockout, and onlookers wondered if the fight was over. Lok didn’t wonder, he meant to make sure.

  Jumping up after the elf, following him a dozen feet into the air, he dropped his halberd to the ground and began a series of lightning fast punches and kicks. Lok could barely be seen, for he was constantly moving and attacking from different angles. The unfortunate body of Kilan jerked in every direction as blows rained upon him from every direction. Then, before they hit the ground, Lok finished by flipping forward, bringing his leg down propelled by the momentum to strike Kilan in the chest. They smashed into the ground, Kilan hitting the ground much harder, for he was kicked down into it. His body lay motionless.

  Lok stood and retrieved his halberd from the ground, casually making his way back to the gate, disappointed he had been pitted against a fighter who only excelled with a bow.

  Chapter Ten

  Magic vs. Faith

  Eucibous clapped Lok on the shoulder as he reentered the combatant hall, greeting his friend with a smile. “As expected, my friend.”

  Lok returned the smile, though halfheartedly. “A skilled archer, but not much else. I would have rather fought that battlemage.”

  Eucibous agreed. “As would I! But we’ll get our better matches in the later rounds. Also, be on your guard, and remember the liche is most likely among us. He could very well be that Jorge character.” Eucibous thought of the liche with anticipation. He had been waiting twenty years for this fight, after all.

  Dennas, a nearby monk and one of the competitors, sneered at what he was hearing. They talk of the ranger as if he was a pushover. I know Kilan, and that is one archer to be feared. I must be wary of this group. He contemplated how he might do battle with men who so easily defeat such renowned opponents. Lok didn’t have a scratch on him.