Opening Moves (The Lion Knight Book 1)

by Aurelius L. Zero

  It was boggling his mind, never in his years of service had he ever heard of such an ability nor was he aware that Allant had such a defence.

  Unable to move from where he lay, Denzel stared up in defiance at his soon to be executioner.

  “Shame really. You could have gone far Denzel, but you have failed me for the last time.”

  “I’d sooner die than serve you any further you monster!”

  “Fortunately for you, you won’t have to make that choice.”

  Damn, the knight is too far away to help…. So it ends here then? Sorry all, I couldn’t do a better job. I guess I won’t be seeing you again Wilhelm. Goodbye.

  As Allant raised his sword overhead for a fatal blow, Denzel glared at the hateful man.

  If he was going down, he would go out like a man, staring the reaper in the face. Baring his teeth in a snarl, Denzel awaited the blow that would never come.

  A combination of fire and lightning detonated just before the unknown field protecting Allant from his bullets.

  A terrific explosion ensued and great winds buffeted everyone, sending a storm of dust into the air. While the magic itself had been negated by the barrier, the winds had forced Allant to shield his eyes and take a few steps back.

  An effeminate figure rushed through the dust cloud and struck at Allant with several fast thrusts towards every exposed part of his body. A second smaller figure circled Allant and went for his eyes

  Retaining his sense of danger even while partially blind, he started twirling his blade in hand, spinning it in a circle in front of him constantly.

  With his mammoth strength and the weight of the sword itself, he was able to turn aside nearly all the incoming strikes, weathering the storm with only superficial injuries.

  Giving up the futile attack, the figure struck one last time before turning and grabbing Denzel hauling him to safety. The other shadow following quickly.

  Once the dust had settled, the gunslinger was more than a little surprised to find that his rescuer was none other than his earlier quarry. Noire herself had charged in to pull him out of the fray.

  “Heh, many thanks little miss. I thought I’d seen my last sunrise for a moment there.”

  “Your gratitude is most welcome sir but we have more pressing matters to deal with. Don’t strain yourself, I did my best to patch you up but my work has limits.”

  “Heh, duly noted.”

  Redirecting his attention to the duel between Geahart and Allant, he found himself impressed by the skill of both fighters.

  As much as he hated Allant, the spectacle he was bearing witness to forced him to admit that the man however much of a monster was an excellent swordsman.

  Two bloody furrows ran down his left eye courtesy of Valor. Even with blood obscuring his vision, Allant’s performance was hardly reduced.

  If anything, the pain only increased his rage which in turn fuelled his strength.

  “Hah! Is this the best you’ve got? I expected more from the ‘knight’ that sent my men running. If this is everything you have I am sorely disappointed.”

  The captain let out a boast as he easily sidestepped a swing from Geahart before countering.

  The onslaught never let up and Geahart was forced back step by step.

  Allant was a consummate master of the blade, he left no openings in his form and there were no wasted movements. It didn’t help matters that he could simply shrug off any gunfire and spells headed his way.

  The only thing stopping him from being neatly bisected at this point was support from Leon.

  This, is bad. I’m almost depleted of flux at this point. Can’t keep this up forever, okay let’s see what we have to work with.

  First, there’s a barrier surrounding him.

  Second, it stretches approximately one metre in all directions.

  Third, it nullifies any and all flux based attacks somehow, erasing the whole thing completely.

  Fourth, it doesn’t work on physical attacks, swords and explosions caused outside the barrier will still go through it.

  Fifth, the barrier wasn’t there before he drew that blade.

  A look of intense concentration crossed his face as the gears in his head began to turn. A plan slowly began to take shape as he did a rough inventory of what resources he had left.

  Hmmm, risky plan… but right now it has the highest chance of success. Fortune favours the bold so here goes nothing.

  “I’VE GOT IT! THE SHIELD IS POWERED BY THE SWORD, WE NEED TO GET IT AWAY FROM HIM!”

  Batting the puppet aside with a mighty swing, Allant hefted the blade over his shoulder and smirked at Leon before giving a booming laugh.

  “Well done boy, so you’ve figured it out. But pray tell, how do you intend to get the sword away from me hmm? Guns are useless, that wannabe knight can’t even touch me and your petty parlour tricks are less than worthless against me. I’ll admit, your ability to cause explosions that go through my shield did take me by surprise but it is ultimately futile.”

  Smirk turning decidedly sinister, Allant made a sweeping gesture and addressed all still on their feet.

  “Look at you all, so many pathetic insects just waiting to be crushed. Why don’t you just lie down and accept your fate, I can see some of the worthless sheep have already taken the hint. You think me blind boy? I can see it you know. Every explosion you make takes just a little something more from you. How many do you have left in you? Ten? Five? One?”

  “I’ve better things to do tonight than die. Don’t worry you piece of filth, I’ll take the blade from your hands soon enough, and once I do you will know pain.”

  “Oho! Confident aren’t we?”

  The monster in human form mocked as he switch his sword to his other hand. Casually waving it, he stopped Geahart’s surprise attack cold without so much as looking.

  “I will deliver justice, it is long overdue. Your actions in the past, to your men, to the kingdom of Albion, to the people of Brune, to Lady Noire, you’ve escaped retribution for long enough! But today… today justice will be served!”

  Abandoning his spell casting, Leon drew his two folding knives and charged Allant, ignoring the cries of Noire and Denzel to turn back.

  Body kept low to the ground, he crossed the distance rapidly and as soon as he was within range began stabbing away at the man’s legs.

  Geahart had synced up at with his master and was striking for Allant’s head.

  One aiming low, one striking high, together they managed to push their opponent back for the first time that day.

  Alternating targets every few blows, the constantly shifting dynamic kept the former knight commander on his toes.

  Utilising hit and run tactics, Allant’s crushing blows were rendered near useless. Sure, being hit by even one was a nigh guaranteed knockout blow, but as long as it doesn’t connect, who cares how strong the attack is.

  Frustration was clearly building up in Allant, his hits were getting just that bit heavier. Leaning more into each attack, sacrificing caution for a larger swing and opening himself up more just to hopefully land a single solid blow on either one of the insects annoying him.

  Vision obscured by the sweat and blood dripping into his eyes. His calm face belied his true level of vexation.

  How dare these puny insects stand in his path?

  Noire would be in his possession soon and once he turned her over to his boss, the bonus would be all his to enjoy.

  Every moment spent trying to overwhelm these two flies was another moment away from him enjoying his rightful rewards.

  Greatness was his to claim. It was his destiny, his birth right! The authority to do as he pleased to whomever he chose to, that was his prerogative as a noble.

  For them to stand against him as such, this was an affront too large for him to simply ignore.

  To dare call his actions unjust, who did they think they were?

  Justice?

  His might was justice.

  Noble blood ran in
his veins, who cared what a bunch of lowly serfs had to go through. They existed to serve his every whim, their lives didn’t matter.

  The only one that did was his own, everyone else deserved only the scraps from his table, and sometimes not even then.

  These two, they were just like that man.

  The man who dared steal away his titles and power and brand him a traitor. Him. The great Allant, a traitor? Sure a few plebeians died, but what did that matter?

  The Imperial army was too strong to fight, he could have died!

  Logic dictated that he save his own skin first.

  But that damned man just wouldn’t see things his way would he?

  The strength of a knight exists to protect the people?

  What a load of horse shit, his strength existed to further himself in this world.

  The commoners were just there for him to use as stepping stones.

  Once he was done here, he would enjoy his bonus before building a new and improved mercenary outfit.

  Maybe he’d call it The Glory of Allant. That way anyone who heard it would know he was on the way and properly tremble in their boots.

  Mind numbing rage fuelling his blows, his strikes grew heavier and heavier, and his well-maintained form became tenuous.

  But in his own fury, he never noticed himself setting up his own downfall.

  His mind was still railing against the unfairness of his punishment.

  And he swore, he swore on everything that he was that once he rebuilt his army, that accursed General Knox would pay for his transgressions.

  A small smile flitted across Leon’s face as he watched Allant’s composure fall apart at the seams.

  Good, just a bit more.

  Damn, if only I could cast spells inside the field, evidently that’s jammed too.

  Geahart is still functioning well though despite running on flux, I wonder….

  “Fighting me two on one? Where is your sense of honour knight?”

  “This isn’t a duel. This is justice being served, I see no reason not to call in aid to ensure it is done.”

  “BAH! Nothing but a no good, yellow bellied COWARD! I will spill your guts yet! And you boy, I know what you’re trying to do and you can forget it! Those fancy parlour tricks you puny magicians are so proud of can’t be cast inside my field. Or did you think my defence would be so easily subverted? Now stand still so I can crush you.”

  “Yeah…. No.”

  Ducking low under the swing, the quivering blade passed so close to Leon he could feel the air itself parting before its keen edge.

  As he rose, he lashed out with a backhand swing at Allant’s unprotected ankle. The puppeteer was rewarded with a small spray of blood and a grunt of pain.

  Satisfaction.

  That sole word summed up his current emotions.

  For the first time that day he had managed to make the bastard hurt, and god willing they would continue doing so.

  After a lifetime of pain and suffering put out into the world by one man, he was finally reaping his just desserts.

  “GRRRR, COM’ERE YOU LITTLE BRAT! I WILL BREAK YOU FOR THAT!”

  Bellowing with rage, Allant hurled obscenities after the rapidly retreating boy.

  The wound itself was light and hardly fatal, but it was an annoyance and his right foot would no longer be able to support his weight without buckling now.

  Forced to abandon pursuit of the boy momentarily by Geahart’s renewed offensive, his rage was building rapidly.

  How dare these serfs stand in the way of his greatness, they would all pay soon enough.

  “That’s it! No more Mr nice guy!”

  Unleashing a deafening roar, Allant summoned a terrifying burst of strength. His blade already locked with the cerulean clad knight, he stepped in closer and gave a mighty push.

  Unable to maintain his footing, Geahart skidded across the floor, his boots digging tracks in the shattered floor tiles.

  Bending his knees to withstand the pressure, Geahart’s head was bowed as e righted himself.

  Upon looking up once more, he noticed Allant in a strange stance… and his sword glowing an ethereal green.

  “Crap.”

  Sword in both hands and slung over his back, Allant twisted his body back and gave a mighty yell before slashing in his direction.

  A wave of solid green light launched from the blade, following the arc of the swing. As it dug into the ground, it cleaved apart everything its path with no resistance.

  Unable to evade in time, Geahart did his best to contort his body out of the path of destruction. Holding his sword outwards, he made an attempt to deflect the attack.

  Leon’s eyes widened as he witnessed the beam cut through his puppets sword like a hot knife through butter. Before he could react however, the arc of light exploded in a radiant burst.

  “GRAAGHH!”

  An unholy shockwave knocked down everyone in the room save Allant who was unaffected by his own attack.

  Leon crashed to the floor in a painful heap, each area of his body screaming a different note of pain.

  Several of the crystals on his sagent were glowing red, control of his puppet had been terminated. Staring at the battered form of Geahart on the ground, he sighed in relief at the condition the puppet was in.

  Being at ground zero of the explosion, Geahart had taken the brunt of the damage and his armour was lightly smoking.

  Remarkably, he was still in one piece. Battered and probably suffering from damage to the internal circuitry, he didn’t look to be in too bad a shape.

  Leon was confident in his ability to repair it once everything had been settled.

  In fact he was sure once the puppet rebooted, Geahart would be able to go on fighting… at least he hoped so.

  Tch, my puppet and Valor are both out of commission now.

  The merc can’t land a single hit and Noire is no match for Allant. Damn so it’s up to me now is it?

  Wait… I seem to be forgetting something….

  “Hahahaha, HAHAHAHAHA! How ya like me now? Still think you can defeat me, the great Allant? Grow up you naive fools. Now, the bloody knight is dead… that just leaves you two. One crippled traitor and one idiot boy playing at being a hero. Hahahahaha, oh I’m going to enjoy this.”

  Flashing the downed forms of Denzel and Leon an evil smile, Allant slowly made his way over to them.

  Blade swinging in lazy arcs, they were under no illusions as to what would happen once he reached them.

  “Hey, boy.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Take the girl and run. Allant is my mistake, I’ll deal with him myself. You lead the girl and any men I have left to safety. With his ankle the way it is, he won’t be able to move fast. Go. I will hold him off for as long as I can.”

  Giving the former vice-commander a dumbfounded look, Leon shook his head and pulled himself to his feet, ignoring his muscles screaming in protest.

  A small frown slid across his face as he noticed the disturbed layer of dust near him.

  There’s no dust pooling there? But there’s nothing to block the dust from settling. Why would- oh!

  Realisation struck him and his frown morphed into a smile.

  So that’s what I’m missing, okay I can still make this work.

  “And abandon you here? Not a chance in hell. I don’t abandon people to their fates like that, call it my own personal code of honour if you will. Even if I must pay in blood for it, it is a price I am more than willing to pay.”

  Lifting his knives in trembling arms, Leon pushed himself to fight again.

  “And besides, I don’t intend to fall here. My plan will succeed yet. You just stay there and prepare to be amazed.”

  Projecting a sense of confidence with that boast, Leon turned to face Allant, face a mask of concentration. Denzel and Noire were both shocked speechless by his demeanour and were subconsciously pressured to sit back and watch.

  Convincing him to back down at this point was an impossible
task.

  Mentally, Leon began counting the seconds. Geahart being taken out by that freak attack was not part of the plan.

  Improvisation was vital, and currently he had only one route available that gave him a very slight chance of success.

  He was banking everything on the newest element in his plan coming through.

  If he miscalculated, chances were that wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.

  The odds are bad, but I don’t have much of a choice here now do I?

  Beats just standing by and waiting to get my throat slit. Geahart is out for the count so it’s all up to me now.

  Okay. Let’s go, ten… nine… eight….

  Gulping down a deep breath, he sprang into action. A glint of insanity in his eyes, he charged the amused Allant who simply readied his sword.

  Seven… six….

  Ducking under the first swing, Leon retaliated with two quick stabs, one to Allant’s face and one to his underarm.

  Five… four…

  Dropping low and sliding around Allant to take his back, Leon slashed at the back of his knees. Drawing blood and a grunt of pain as a result.

  Three….

  Allant spun round with a savage swing to bisect him at the waist.

  Two….

  In a feat demanding every bit of flexibility Leon had, he arched his back and bent over so his head touched the ground and the faintly glowing sword passed just inches over him.

  One….

  Using the momentum from his evasion, Leon strained his muscles to the absolute limit and spun on his left heel to the left, forcing himself back into standing position.

  The last of his flux pouring into his sagent as he readied his trump card.

  Zero….

  Snarling into Allant’s surprised face, Leon’s sagent flashed and his right arm became a blur.

  With an almighty crack, Leon’s outstretched arm snapped due to the sudden burst of speed and the knife blade shattered into thousands of pieces.

  Holding back a grimace of pain, Leon gave a bloody smile as Allant howled in pain. His prized sword clattered to the floor out of reach of him.

  Completely exhausted now, he dropped to the floor and sat there to watch the results of his gambit.

  In that one instant the crystals on Leon’s control glove had exploded in radiance, every bit of flux he had dumped in had surged into his muscles, supercharging them for a single motion. The result was a swing at inhuman strength and speed.