Spellscribed: Provenance

by Kristopher Cruz

  Joven sputtered. “Of course he would tell you that! Endrance revealed the queen’s true form, not cursed her! Of all people, you would think a child of Daelin would side with the word of the Spengur!”

  Balen slammed a palm against the iron bars. “Damn you Joven! You know that the Spengur is an old rite, and has no place in this place! We can make it just fine without a magic man to ‘fix’ things!”

  Joven and Balen were almost nose to nose, their argument grew so heated. “You fool!” Joven exclaimed. “Your damned insistence on ignoring magic is how a mage managed to remain king all these years without you noticing! You were closer to him than anyone else!”

  “Fool!” Balen roared, his hands wringing the iron bars of the portcullis. “I dare you to say that again!”

  Joven grinned, his expression mocking. “Or you’ll what? Stay inside some more? You foolishly locked yourself into a situation you can’t get out of!” He took a step back and laughed. “I’ll tell you what, you let just me and the Spengur and his women in, and we’ll sort this out between us with a fight, like civilized people.”

  Balen surged away from the gates and strode to the center. “Open the gates!” He commanded. “Shoot anyone but the Spengur or his people!”

  Endrance and the Draugnoa picked through the mob, crossing the empty space to Joven. The assorted men and women seemed to be itching to move forward, but wouldn’t unless they could see an opening. The mage viewed the number of royal guard who remained inside the courtyard, and grimaced at Joven. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. “I can’t protect us from that many bolts and arrows if they decide to just execute us.”

  “Trust me.” Joven growled. “They will listen to Balen.”

  “Are you sure you can win?” Endrance asked. “You’ve said he’s better than you.”

  “Yeah.” Joven admitted. “But I’ve had practice since then, and now I have the axe.”

  “I won’t be able to heal you if you get badly injured during the fight if I have to press onward.” Endrance said. “You’ll only have the one chance at this.”

  “I know.” Joven said; his expression was grim. “Endrance… If I don’t make it, I’m glad to have served you.”

  “You better make it.” Endrance said with a faked chuckle. “Or else I’ll have no one to complain to or drink with when the girls start driving me crazy.”

  Joven laughed at that, patting the man on the shoulder as the gates rose. “You’ll be just fine, man. You’ll do just fine.”

  The five walked into the courtyard, and the portcullis dropped back into place almost instantly on their heels.

  Surrounded on either side by Nephilim with loaded crossbows, Balen waited.

  Chapter 34

  Endrance and the Draugnoa stood to the side, while the two sons of Daelen squared off in the center of the castle courtyard. The royal guard had cleared a circle of stone over a dozen yards across for them to fight in. Though loyal to the king, it appeared that they respected the general enough to allow him this demand. In a way, Balen had already helped them. Beyond this point, there were no physical barriers to circumvent; it was only the king and his men waiting for him.

  There had to be very little of his guard left, Endrance realized. They had killed or incapacitated eight of them at the first switch, and four more at the other two leading to the castle proper. This meant that the twelve men keeping the mob at bay would be the last remaining of the men loyal to the king, other than general Balen.

  Balen was wearing a heavy armor breastplate of black steel, with gold trim and detailing across the front and back. The shoulder cops and bracers were of a similar makeup. From his back he wore a deep red cloak of thick cloth, trimmed in gold threads. The man wore only a two handed greatsword on his back, similar in design to the one that Joven usually wore. A long knife was strapped to his belt, but all of his equipment seemed of extraordinary quality. Even the furs he wore under the armor were of the finest quality buckskin.

  “Poor Joven.” Balen taunted, as the two circled each other, neither having drawn a weapon yet. “You still think that having more weapons makes you a better warrior.”

  “Wrong, brother!” Joven exchanged. “I believe there is a time and a place for every weapon.”

  Balen pulled his greatsword free. The blade was of black steel, expertly crafted with etched knot work all down the blade on both sides instead of a groove. He spun the sword around experimentally, showing his skill with the blade. “You are the one who is wrong, brother!” he returned. “If you can kill something with one blade or the other, it is a waste of time to change your tools.”

  Joven unbuckled the belt holding the haft of the axe under his cloak. “If you’re so set on staying the course, then why are you disobeying the word of the Spengur?”

  “The Spengur is an expired habit!” Balen shouted. “He is no longer needed in our kingdom!” He raised the greatsword menacingly. “And when he has been cut out, this time there will be no others. We will finally be free of their magic.”

  Joven closed his eyes a second as the axe on his back dropped to the ground, the points on its head biting into the stone and sticking straight up. He took a step to the right, and placed a hand on the pommel of the axe of his family line. The wood was dark, stained so deeply red that it almost appeared black. The leather straps wrapping the handle were scratched in ancient script, and the head of the axe was formed of a milky white form of steel foreign to Balator. One side of the axe head was carved in a relief of a hundred warriors at the ready, while the other bore the same one hundred warriors slain. A white steel spike topped the axe, its point glittering with the remaining light of the day.

  “Father disagrees.” Joven said evenly, opening his eyes.

  Balen’s eyes widened as he realized what his brother was holding. “How did you get that…”

  “Was at home.” Joven said loudly “When we told mother what happened, she was eager to give it to me. She hoped that seeing it would remind you of your first and foremost duty as one of the guardians of the Spengur.”

  Balen blinked away his confusion, tightening his grip on his weapon. “It doesn’t matter.” He reasoned. “The king has given me a new duty now. If you weren’t so hard headed you would stand aside brother!”

  The general rushed forward, his greatsword soaking up the late day’s light. Joven gripped the axe of Daelin and brought it up to counter his brother’s stroke. Sparks flew, and the clash of their steel hurt Endrance’s ears as he watched the fight progress. Balen was stronger than his younger brother, older and more practiced in real combat. Joven was a little faster, and the difference in experience was by such a small margin that the fight could drag on for a long time. They pressed in at each other, the edge of their blades scraping against each other for a moment before disengaging.

  Balen thrust the greatsword forward, baiting his brother with a feint. Joven batted the point of the blade away with the pommel of the axe, and stepped into the greatsword’s range. His higher up grip on the haft of the axe meant that he could use it effectively much closer than Balen could use his weapon. He brought the axe down, but Balen deftly hopped back out of range, swiping with his sword as he evaded Joven’s strike. The sword’s edge crossed Joven’s chest and biceps in a line, cutting through fur cloak and striking sparks from the protective plates that saved the bodyguard’s life. The axe of Daelin struck a flagstone of the courtyard, and it cracked under the force of his strike.

  Balen went to take a step in to finish off his brother before he could recover from the strike, but instead of pulling up the axe with both hands, Joven let go with his left and hurled a knife. The narrow triangular blade scythed through the air like an arrow. Balen jerked to the side as a reflex, and the blade punched through the steel plate into the meat of his chest near his right shoulder cop. Joven pulled the axe free from the stone; Balen yanked the blade out and threw it to the ground in rage. Joven raised his axe, the empty scabbard of one of his throwing knife sheat
hs visible through the slash in his cloak.

  Maybe Joven had always held back before or Balen wasn’t really committed to killing his brother, but so far the two were fighting on equal footing. As Endrance looked around, he saw that the royal guard were either too occupied with the mob teeming at the portcullis, or the fight with their leader to pay too much attention to them. Now would be the perfect time to slip inside.

  As steel clashed with steel, and the two strongest brothers he had ever seen fought to the death, he tapped the Draugnoa on the shoulders as he moved towards the doors in. “Let’s go.” He said. “I’ll have to trust Joven here.” The three women seemed reluctant to abandon their friend and comrade, but there was nothing they could do to interfere with the fight and not draw attention from the remaining men. Endrance looked up to the sky, and Gullin dropped down to alight upon his arm.

  Joven had caught sight of his charge moving quietly towards the doors into the castle, and knew he had to draw more attention away from the doors. He skipped back, avoiding a swing meant to disembowel him as he brought his axe up for a downward chop.

  “This is foolish, Balen!” He shouted, his voice louder than he would normally have if it were just the two of them fighting. “We are brothers! Fighting like this just mocks our family’s name!” He reversed his swing at the last moment, coming up under his opponent’s guard, causing a shower of sparks as the spike on the axe head drew a line across the stone.

  “You are the fool!” Balen cried, sidestepping the swing and thrusting with his greatsword. Joven barely managed to deflect the stab before he was run through. “Picking a fight with me, when you’ve never won a single sparring match with me!”

  Joven whirled around the second thrust, bringing the axe of Daelen in a low strike at his thigh. Balen danced backwards, redirecting his strike to disrupt the flow of Joven’s attacks. The brother’s weapons locked for a moment and they strained against each other, trying to force the other to fall back. Muscles bulged and leather creaked as the two pitted their strength against each other.

  Up close, Joven saw something wrong with Balen’s eyes. Where before they had been clear and intense when they had sparred, there was something in his eyes that seemed to be missing. It was as if the edge in his gaze had been dulled or he was drunk on something. Joven then realized that something had been done to Balen that was slowing his reflexes and skill. If the man had been affected by magic, maybe it wasn’t his desire to fight him.

  He did not get a chance to think further, as in his realization he faltered his pressure upon Balen’s blade. The general pulled his head back and delivered a powerful head butt. Joven reeled back, blood streaming from his newly re-broken nose. He was only barely able to defend himself from the next several attacks as his brother battered at his defenses. Whatever it was that dulled his mind, it hadn’t dulled his combat sense in any significant way.

  He bested a strong horizontal swing and nearly took off Balen’s arm with the counterattack, forcing the man to give him some room to breathe. Joven used a free hand to wipe some of the blood from his nose. “I get it now.” He said. “Please, stop this! Don’t let Kalenden control you any further!”

  “No more talking!” Balen cried angrily, resetting his grip on the sword. “Fight me!”

  “I’m sorry for this, brother.” Joven muttered, and he wiped his bloody fingers across the bear emblem clasp. The fresh blood mingled in the grooves and channels of the etched symbol, and the spell designed in the brooch found both the power to activate the spell and the target to affect with it. The barbarian felt the most peculiar sensation he’d ever had. He felt some kind of drain on him, but it wasn’t a physical one. It felt more like he had spent all day thinking of difficult things.

  Physically, a euphoric rush of power blossomed out from his heart and spread throughout his body. The heat and vigor rushed through tiring limbs, washing away aches, pains, and fatigue while also filling him with strength. His eyes and ears sharpened into focus again, and he felt as if he were actually filled with too much strength for his body to handle. The feeling was exhilarating, and he grinned as he grabbed the axe with both hands again.

  The two clashed their weapons again, but the results were drastically different. Balen’s sword was repelled in the instant the two weapons clashed, the extraordinarily durable black steel blade nicked a centimeter deep. Joven didn’t even lose momentum, whirling his axe back around with one hand and striking again, the smile on his face brightening as he saw just how much more powerful he was. His next strike was parried, but it forced Balen back several more feet as the man didn’t have the strength to block such a powerful blow.

  Balen deflected the third strike, but at the cost of another nick in his weapon’s edge. The bodyguard was relentless, his strokes coming in just slow enough that Balen could defend, but with so much force that he could do nothing but recover from the hit before he struck again. The weapon Balen wielded was tough, but under the stress of Joven’s enhanced might could not stand long.

  Joven brought the weapon down with as much strength as he could. The axe head sheared through the blade at the guard, shattering the blade. The spike cleaved through part of the breastplate of Balen’s armor, and the whole head hit the flagstones at their feet with so much leftover force that the stones buckled, sending an explosion of stone chips and fragments into the air. Blood spattered from the gash carved into Balen’s chest as stone fragments rained down around them.

  Disarmed and injured, Balen dropped to his knees. He looked up at his brother, who stood before him, the light of the declining suns casting him in silhouette before their blaze. He closed his eyes and dropped the broken handle. The man had somehow overpowered him.

  “You’ve gotten strong, Joven.” Balen said, defeated. “Finish this. I am no longer worthy to lead.”

  Joven lifted the axe of Daelen again. The axe of his father, no, their father. Would he want the next person’s blood spilled upon the blade since his death to be one of his son’s? Joven hesitated, and sighed. He got the feeling that no matter what had happened this day, his father would be disappointed in them.

  “Kill me.” Balen said, laboring to breathe. “And take command of my men. Only then it will be finished.”

  “No brother.” Joven said at last. “It is not finished.” He swung the axe. The wooden pommel was not capped in metal or carved to make it lethal, so it served his need. Careful to hold back his magically titanic strength, the heavy thunk of the wood hitting bone was still heard through the courtyard as Joven knocked his brother unconscious.

  Joven sincerely hoped that Endrance would be able to undo whatever magic was affecting his brother. But before that, he would have to make sure the mage survived. He looked up from his prone opponent when he saw one and then more of the royal guards lift their crossbows towards him. Soon more men were aiming at him than at the mob trying to get into the gates.

  “I don’t suppose you guys will follow my orders now, will you?” Joven asked tentatively. The men sighted down their quarrels at him. “I guess not.” He said.

  He looked at the odds before him. Not good, but he did still feel the massive rush of strength and power from the spell Endrance gave him. “What the hell.” Joven said. “I might as well help clean up the table scraps.”

  The barbarian leapt towards the nearest grouping of Nephilim. The twang of crossbow bolts releasing cut into the night air.

  The foyer into the great hall held no more defenses. Looking down the side halls, Endrance saw no one of any sort walked the halls. Already, the anxiety he felt before was building up again, faster now that he was aware of the reason.

  I sense no one, Endrance. Gullin advised. That may be due to interference.

  Yes I figured as much. Endrance replied. I was only partially aware of what lies here the first few times I was here, but now I am certain of it.

  Be careful, Endrance. This place makes me uneasy.

  “All right.” Endrance said aloud. “This is it.
You three, cover me from any kind of fighters that may be in there, and I will have to handle Kalenden’s magic. If his demoness shows up, hit her as hard as you can with everything you’ve got. True demons are far more powerful than your average man.”

  The women nodded, unclasping their cloaks and letting them fall to the floor. Ready, they looked to the doors, took a readying breath, and shoved them open, rushing out over the great hall’s polished stone floors. The three Draugnoa led, with Endrance at the back of the vanguard.

  The great throne room was distressingly dark. The only light in the chamber was from a pair of candelabra flanking the throne in the back of the room. With the single torch light of the room behind them, and the candles far off, the great hall was as dark as the blackest night. The doors swung closed as they came in, leaving them in darkness.

  The king sat upon the throne, leaning his head on one hand while he tapped the pommel of his sword with the other. The dark stone of the throne room, as the reflective sheen of the polished stone floor, gave the room the appearance that the throne and king were afloat in a sea of stars. He watched them with a carefully blank expression, the earlier rage and confusion he had visited upon having been banished.

  Selene blinked several times, trying to shake the feeling of abject fear she felt. The darkness of the expansive hall, the sheen of the polished floor, the stillness of the room that left only the pounding of her heart in her ears left her shaking in fear. It was like she really was back in the realm of her mind, where she was confronted with the truth of what she really was. The chain of her weapon rattled almost imperceptibly as she trembled.

  Anna took the lead, with Bridget on the left and Selene on the right. So far, they could only see the king. Even Endrance’s slightly better night vision saw no one else. It was a good thing he had killed that moon elf assassin, or else this would be practically a perfect killing ground for her. Gullin shuddered, but didn’t cry out or take flight. As Endrance walked forward, his hands clenched in fists, the familiar walked up his arm and huddled down on the mage’s shoulder.