by Steven Drake
Still, he really didn’t want to spar with this woman. She seemed the last person who should be in combat. Her optimistic and vibrant spirit made her hopelessly unsuited for the grim realities of war. Nevertheless, her stubborn streak meant she would probably keep pestering him until he gave in. Best to put her on her backside a few times, and then she’d learn her lesson. He picked up the practice swords, and threw down his own blade.
“Alright then,” Darien said. “If you insist.”
Best to do this quickly. Darien took a quick step forward and brought a quick strike down towards her shoulder, a good blow between the shoulder and the neck would hurt sufficiently, but not do any serious damage. When the blow should have connected, however, there was nothing there. She had moved swiftly, as gracefully as a breeze, twisting her body away from the blow and knocking his sword away. The shock of having actually been dodged left Darien momentarily stupefied, but he still had his off sword positioned to block. He pushed aside her strike and stepped around her, then turned to face her again.
She stopped and took several steps back then raised her blades with a wicked smile on her face. The way she held the swords seemed familiar. He had faced other warriors who used dual swords, but this was different. The stance was… so familiar. Every angle seemed perfect, something he had seen many times before.
He had no more time to ponder the matter however, as she moved forward to attack. She stepped quickly but gracefully, moving effortlessly over the ground, attacking with one sword and positioning the other for defense, switching regularly, trying to keep him off balance. She was fast, but her blows lacked force. She had as much strength as one could reasonably squeeze out of a rather slight frame, but that still left her at a vast disadvantage. Darien knocked her blade away forcefully in an attempt to disorient her, but she reacted too quickly. Though he was stronger, she was lighter on her feet.
They exchanged strikes for several minutes, with Miri darting in and out to keep him moving. Several times, he believed he had her, but each time she contorted her body in some new and unexpected way, as though she could will herself into some liquid state just long enough to evade a blow before springing back to form, or twisting into a new attack. She seemed to move too fast for belief, always positioning herself perfectly to be just out of range. Few opponents he had ever faced could dodge this easily, at this speed, without magic. He had intended to teach the woman a lesson, but so far had accomplished nothing. He simply was not fast enough, not without his magic. He was so used to fighting with the subtle edge of his augmentation, that fighting without it seemed awkward and slow. He could have beaten her in seconds using that advantage, but of course the fight would no longer be fair, and somehow the idea of cheating disgusted him. He could not understand how she could last this long, and his frustration mounted.
After perhaps five minutes of exertion, Darien realized that he would tire long before Mirisa did. After all, he had already been practicing quite vigorously for several hours before she arrived. He would have to take a risk. He waited for an opportunity and then forcefully parried a strike to send her back to a distance of five yards, then he pushed forward into an all-out attack. He brought both swords to strike, two diagonal strikes that covered a wide area, leaving no place to dodge, except backwards.
As expected she pushed off and leapt backwards, but rather than backing out of his attack to regain balance, Darien flipped the curved swords in his hand and reversed the attack, swinging up as he pushed forward even faster. The awkward motion would leave him hopelessly off balance should he miss, but he had to take the chance, or Miri would probably just tire him out. He charged forward at full speed, and she could no longer backpedal quickly enough, so she lurched right and blocked the blow with both swords, but Darien had the momentum. With his strength behind him, he was able to lift Miri completely off the ground.
Now he had her. Using Mirisa’s weight to counter his own forward momentum, he regained his balance. As Miri hit the ground, he repositioned the blade in his left hand and struck quickly across her body, a sharp blow that should end the duel. Unfortunately, she managed to get one of her swords free, and swiped it across towards his head in a weak but desperate attack. The blows hit at roughly the same moment. His strike was easily the stronger. It cracked against her armor and sent her spinning and sprawling to the ground. Her strike was weaker, but well aimed, striking squarely on his right ear. It was enough to momentarily blur his vision, and put a loud ringing in his ear.
He stood and marveled at her as she got to her feet. It was a draw. Had the fight been real, he would have won, barely. His strike was strong enough to cut her nearly in half with a real sword, while hers was off balance, not strong enough for a fatal blow. Still, it would have left him with a grievous head injury and perhaps missing most of his right ear. It disturbed Darien that anyone besides another Shade could come that close to winning.
Once Mirisa had righted herself, she turned to face Darien, and then turned pink. Darien suddenly realized he was staring at her open mouthed like a stupid fool.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” he asked.
“I told you, I’m an excellent dancer.” She smiled and grinned with pride. “I practiced with both my brothers. Zandrek was better. He moved so fast it was hard to see sometimes. I can’t beat him, but Zitane can’t beat me. Most boys can’t. You’re really good, at least when you started taking me seriously.”
“Well, I must say I’m surprised.” Darien shook his head. “Your skill is more than uncommon. Of course, I can do much better, if I use my magic.” Perhaps I should have, he thought. It might not have been strictly fair, but it would have taught the lesson. Darien paused for a moment as he realized how unusual it was for him to concern himself with fairness, so why did it bother him now? The idea that she could match him, even under these circumstances, bothered him for some unknown reason. Perhaps because she seemed so gentle and kind, thinking of her being equally skilled in violent combat felt strange. It certainly did not match his expectations.
Mirisa didn’t give him much more time to consider the matter as she launched into the usual barrage of questions that followed any mention of magic. “You can use magic when you’re fighting with a sword?”
“Yes, it’s called augmentation. You can enhance your speed and strength.”
“Will you teach me?” Miri suddenly got excited.
“No, Lady Mirisa. Why do you want to learn to fight? You have others who will fight for you, Kellan, Garok, Zitane. There’s a reason they don’t want you to have to fight. You should focus on healing. It suits you better.”
Mirisa narrowed her eyes, and her face scrunched up into an unmistakable pouting expression. “Everyone says that, like I’m a pretty flower that will wilt at the slightest touch. I’m not. I’m not weak. I’m stronger than that, if you just give me the chance.”
“That’s not what I meant at all. You’re quite talented and capable, but not everyone needs to be able to fight like I do. I’ve become so used to death and violence that I no longer even think about it. I killed over a dozen men last night, and I haven’t given it so much as a second thought.” Darien stared up at the peak of the Leaning Mountain off to the right as he spoke more to himself than to Miri. “Killing is easy, frighteningly easy, and it gets even easier with practice. Almost anyone can do it, with or without magic. The world has enough monsters like me. You have much rarer gift, to preserve life. You should never have to kill anyone.”
When he looked over again, Mirisa was staring at the ground. For a moment, he thought he had gotten through to her, but then she looked up, with a piercing gaze that stopped him cold.
“You’re not a monster. Why would you say that? You killed all those people to protect us. Garok is like that too. They called him a monster, too, but they’re wrong. It’s not that simple. Killing doesn’t make you a monster, and saving life doesn’t make me better than you.” Miri took a few steps towards him.
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f him wanted to argue, wanted to tell her that she was wrong, wanted to tell her every awful thing he had ever done as a Shade, every pain he’d inflicted, every man he had killed, every prisoner whose mind he had broken. And if that were still not enough, he would make up something worse, tell a dozen of the worst lies his dark imagination could dream up, take credit for the worst deeds of his Master, anything, just to stop her looking at him with those eyes that seemed to see through his soul. But he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, as if bewitched by something far more powerful than any spell he could conjure. She took another step towards him, and spoke again.
“You know, I lied to you. I do have one memory from before I met Zitane. It seems an odd thing to remember, but when I was younger, I saw a butterfly get caught in a spider’s web. I tried to save it, but my father stopped me. I never see his face when I remember, but somehow, I know it’s my father. He told me if I saved the butterfly, the spider would die. He told me that the spider has to kill things, just to live, that it can’t help what it is. I cried for the butterfly, but my father told me that everything has a purpose, even when we don’t understand, even when it seems cruel. Sometimes it’s hard to see, but even the spiders have their purpose. In a way, they’re just as beautiful.”
Darien stood, staring at her, unable to turn away from her piercing eyes. The woman’s strange story seemed to echo in his mind, like a song that he could not banish from his ear. He wanted to speak, wanted to argue, but every clever retort died on his lips. He wanted to scream at her that she was wrong, that she was seeing what she wanted, not the reality. But every cynical precept he had ever learned as a Shade seemed woefully inadequate against Miri’s heartfelt convictions. He had thought her an innocent child, like Jerris, too young and too naïve to know better, but he now understood how wrong that was, and he had no words to answer her. He saw her completely differently now, as he had never before, with the sun glinting off her hair. He felt an immensity of conviction, a strength of will that matched his own. He felt her magic, her aura, more acutely than he ever had another. It felt warm, inviting, comforting, strong. He caught himself wishing he could wrap himself in that warmth, that it would somehow make everything in his broken, ruined existence better. It was the strangest sensation, both awful and wonderful at the same time. He couldn’t think of any escape, any way to win this debate, but he had to stop her looking at him with those eyes. If she kept it up, he felt he would burn to cinders or crumble to dust. “I… perhaps… maybe you’re right.” It came out stunted, awkward, like the first words of a babbling infant. He couldn’t believe the words came from his own mouth.
Mercifully, she finally lowered her eyes, and Darien felt a wave of relief, as though he’d been released from a spell. The ordeal was over, the moment had passed, and he felt somehow lighter, as though some invisible weight had been lifted. He breathed slowly, still recovering from the moment, while Miri looked up at the mountain, rocking gently back and forth with her hands clasped behind her back.
“So, who taught you to fight?” Miri asked curiously.
“Oh, a half-elf named Kirin taught me.” Then Darien realized why Miri’s style seemed so familiar, Kirin. Kirin had taught him to fight in the same manner, dodged in the same manner. How could that be?
“That fighting style is the same one my brothers taught me,” Miri said. “That’s how it was so easy to predict what you were going to do. There’s a dance based on the fighting style, or maybe the fighting style is based on the dance. They’ve both been around so long, no one knows.” Had Kirin been here? Was Kirin from Catarina? Had he been one of the Fallen Elves, perhaps cast out because of his magic.
“Well, you look tired,” Miri said. “Let’s call it a draw. Maybe we’ll practice again sometime. You really are a marvelous dancing partner.” She grinned snidely at him. Darien nodded, unable to summon the will to argue any more, and they walked back into town as the afternoon sun dipped low in the western sky.
As they drew near the city gates, Darien saw Garok leaning comfortably against the city wall. As they passed, the ogre opened his eyes and grinned rather deviously, showing his teeth like the rounded tops of grassy hills. Clearly, Garok was responsible for this encounter, and the great blue hulk seemed thoroughly amused by his joke. As they passed into the city, Darien was certain he heard the low rumbling of the ogre’s laughter behind him.
Chapter 21: The First Journey of a King
Jerris enjoyed surprising success in his recruitment efforts among the lesser dragonkin, despite his honesty regarding the fact that combat was likely at some point. Many of the dragons, especially the live birthed children of dragon warriors who longed to win glory in battle like their parents, proved eager for an opportunity that dragon society would never provide them. Jerris found some satisfaction in this, as the rigid structure of dragon society seemed stifling to Jerris’ sensibilities. The idea of treating some better than others because of their birth seemed unfair, though even the elves recognized distinctions between commoner and nobility. It was something Jerris hoped to change.
In addition to the new recruits, Jerris also discovered that a few dozen Golden Magi had stayed in Kilnar rather than follow Geoffray. Jerris questioned them thoroughly with the help of Ceres, Kesz, and Tzia, who was still none too pleased about would be assassins in her city. Once everyone was satisfied that there were no spies among them, Jerris allowed them to join the force as well. The investigation itself even yielded some unexpected information. Though Nielas had ultimately betrayed even the Demon King when he abducted Nia, he had sent those loyal to him south with Geoffray. It suggested that their suspicions were correct, and that the Demon King was moving behind the scenes to divide the Golden Shield. Geoffray was simply too stupid to realize it.
In the end, with the addition of a sizable contingent of dragonkin warriors, the force added up to nearly a thousand, hardly an army, but at least a beginning. The preparations and organization of the force alone took over a month. Jerris had never organized an army before, and he found out he had a great deal to learn about the logistics of moving large numbers of men. Their force required a significant number of wagons, many of which had to be constructed specifically for the journey, and pack animals, which had to be rounded up from various dragon settlements over several weeks.
It was something of a novel problem for the Ebonscale, who seldom operated far from their borders. Within their territory, Ebonscale soldiers could be supplied largely by air, with supplies carried short distances by individual couriers from one settlement to the next towards their ultimate destination. This expedition was different, as they planned to journey far outside Ebonscale territory, and remain for several months. They had to have enough supplies to get to Trinium, and enough for a possible return trip. Jerris couldn’t expect the dragons to be constantly ferrying supplies as they traveled, and there were far too many flightless dragons and non-dragons to use aerial travel. If they succeeded, presumably the Golden Shield would provide further supplies, but success was by no means guaranteed, so they had to pack enough for a return trip if necessary.
The journey from Kilnar to Trinium went as terribly as Jerris imagined possible. Journeying to Kilnar from Trinium with a group of only ten had taken a few short weeks, but as Jerris quickly discovered, the same journey with a large force took significantly longer, several times longer, in fact. In order to avoid Copperhide territory, and possible confrontations, they took a rather more circuitous route than the one they had taken to reach Kilnar. Rather than take the roundabout route skirting the low hills on the edge of the desert, they journeyed far to the east first, and took a difficult pass through the worst parts of the Scoured Hills.
They also discovered they had chosen a poor time of year to travel. The expedition was plagued by what the Ebonscale called hill storms, which began with sandstorms that came from the west followed by lightning storms, torrential rain, and sometimes hail. The high summer was by far the worst season for storms, and they spent as
nearly as many days simply sitting in camp, waiting for a break in the weather, as they did actually moving through the rugged terrain. Worse yet, neither Jerris, nor Ceres, nor anyone else had much experience moving military units. Tzia was a skilled military commander, and Skarn knew the terrain, but unforeseen difficulties slowed progress to an absolute crawl, as narrow trails and repeated bottleneck passes strung the group out over many miles. By the time they got to easier terrain on the far slopes of the Scoured Hills, three months had passed, and autumn was well underway.
They made camp in the foothills that overlooked the Golden Plains, in a remote location several miles from the nearest settlement, a castle inhabited by a minor local baron who was a vassal to a duke that dwelt in a large city about two days ride north of Trinium. Jerris made certain to announce their presence and intentions, lest they be mistaken for an enemy. The baron reacted with shock and more than a little apprehension, as an army of dragons on the doorstep was usually not good news. Still, after Jerris explained himself, the man was friendly enough, allowing the patchwork force to hunt and trap as they were able in the hills west of town.
Then came the day Jerris dreaded. He had arranged a meeting with Nia, Kesz, Tzia, Skarn, and the highest ranking Golden Magi in the party, a middle-aged man named Danek Rho to discuss how to proceed. They sat at a rickety wooden table that they had assembled from scraps several days ago. They needed to plan how they could get into the city of Trinium, a plan that would almost certainly involve Jerris and Nia parting once again.
Jerris stood to bring the meeting to order and gazed around the table. Everyone looked to him for leadership, for purpose. He still felt unworthy of it, but he did his best to live up to their expectations, and listen to their advice.