by Paul Dale
“I can tell we’re going to be the best of friends,” said Edwin with a forced smile.
“Bosom buddies,” said Namu, folding her arms under what passed for her breasts.
“Right up to the time the Dark Lord Morden strips the flesh from your weak-minded skull,” said Ga’brel. “Why are we always given the shit jobs?”
“What’s that on your nose?” asked Edwin. Ga’brel’s hand went reflexively to his nose. “No. Down a bit. Here, let me help you.”
Edwin’s fist shot out and connected with a satisfying crunch of gristle. Blood spattered and Ga’brel crumpled like a bag of sticks. Edwin stood over him, fists bunched. He shot a look at Namu and found nothing but amusement.
“You asked for that,” she said, stretching out a hand which Ga’brel grasped.
“He broke my nose. It hurts,” said Ga’brel, getting to his feet. He produced a silk handkerchief from a sleeve and dabbed at his bloodied nose.
“Don’t mind him,” said Namu. “It can only improve his looks. I’ll heal it later. It’s his pride you clocked more than anything. He’ll get over it. The good news is that we have something to work with. You have fire, and that’s good. Now we need to teach you how to focus and use it. It was far too easy for Ga’brel to get under your skin. Though, to be fair, he does get under most people’s skin, so nothing new there. But he’s not that bad. And—I can’t believe I’m going to say this—he’s about the best at what he does.”
Edwin was confused. He’d just slugged the tall elf in the face and was expecting a fur-ball of a fight to ensue, perhaps even with a bit of wrestling with the cute elf woman thrown in. He could feel his pent up frustrations and they needed to be released. The last thing he needed was faint amusement and placation. He wanted to fight. “And what would that be? Falling over when punched?”
Namu laughed like the ring of a silver bell. “Oh, he’s good. I think we’re going to get on famously.”
Ga’brel looked less amused. His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened in a way Edwin had learnt meant imminent attack. Good.
But the attack was not physical. Ga’brel grew taller and, as he did, the light was sucked from the room, along with the heat. Edwin felt cold as Ga’brel loomed over him. All colour had gone from the elf’s face and his eyes had become black pits. Shadows rose all around Edwin and he felt as though he were being crushed by an enormous weight on his shoulders.
“You miserable, pathetic man,” roared Ga’brel. “You think you can stand before me? You are a worm. You are nothing to me. You are nothing to anyone. When you die you will not be missed. Your passing will be like that of a gnat on a summer’s eve, of no consequence. Your sad fumbling in life is no better than that of a blind mole in the earth. You are nothing more than flesh, bone, and animal instinct. Cower before me like the dog you are, you worthless pile of dung.”
The weight was too much to bear and Edwin sank to his knees. He struggled to raise a bunched fist but could not. The elf was right. He was a failure. He had come to nothing. He was worthless. The world would be better off without him. Even his beloved Griselda would not miss him in his passing. She was far off on the arm of the Dark Lord. He was nothing but an uncomfortable memory to her. He may as well chase the retreating cold north and meet a welcome end in its embrace.
“Ga’brel, enough,” said Namu. “Enough, I said.”
The elven women uttered a strange sound and the room filled with golden light, banishing the shadows. Warmth filled Edwin’s body and the weight lifted from his shoulders. Still kneeling, Edwin looked up at the two elves. From the look he got from Ga’brel, he was glad the woman was here.
“He asked for it,” Ga’brel said.
“He’s just a boy,” said Namu.
“He has no chance against Morden. Look at him. If I could do that, then what hope does he have when he stands before a Dark Lord? He will be sent mad again. His body is strong but his mind is weak.”
“We can help him. We can strengthen it. There’s spirit in there. There’s love. We can use that. Edwin, tell us about Griselda. Who is she and what is she to you?”
The mention of his sister’s name was too much for Edwin. He slumped onto his buttocks and let the tears flow. His body rocked as he cried. He felt a comforting arm around his shoulder as Namu crouched next to him and wrapped him in her arms.
*****
The swing of Ga’brel’s mace was so slow Edwin was tempted to laugh. That the attack was so slow was not surprising given the mace’s ridiculous size. It was a wonder Ga’brel could wield the weapon; it weighed almost as much as the elf. He’d been assured this was the typical choice for a Dark Lord. They were not known for nimble footwork and rapier strikes. They were far more inclined to use overstated weapons that would pulverise anything they hit. A Dark Lord was all about the one-shot. All Edwin had to do was take a small step to one side, twisting as he did, then thrust under the overextension of the attack and deliver a slash that would open up his opponent from armpit to groin.
The mace swung down and Edwin tried to make his first movement. And could not. His legs were leaden; his feet were rooted to the spot. Almost in panic, he tried to throw himself to one side to avoid the crushing blow, while he instinctively turned to plan B, which was to raise his shield to ward the blow. It was not a good plan. He knew the unskilled would naturally try to block the blow, and it would result in a smashed shield and a shattered arm. Rather than meet the blow full on, he instead tried to deflect it to lessen its impact and send it off to one side.
The mace smashed into the floor, cracking the stone and sending shards whistling around the room. Off to one side, Namu twisted sharply to avoid a fragment. Even though the blow had been glancing, Edwin’s arm was still numbed and he was forced to a knee by the weight of it. Ga’brel stood before him, swinging his arms in a laboriously wide arc to bring the mace around to one side and then, with a bend of the knees, up and over to bring it down towards Edwin’s helmeted head. He could barely lift his shield arm to stop the blow, or make an attack, as the length of this impossible weapon kept Ga’brel well out of reach. Edwin closed his eyes and prepared himself for the blow that would surely break his arm and smash him into the floor.
But the blow never landed. Instead, a late change in its arc and it crashed once more into the stone floor of the sparring chamber.
“Do you know where you went wrong?” Namu asked from the side line.
Ga’brel let the mace handle fall from his hand and clatter onto the ground. “Bloody stupid weapon.”
Edwin felt his legs released from whatever had gripped them and he rose to his feet. His arm ached. “I did no wrong,” he said, sheathing his sword. “Ga’brel cheated.”
“And a Dark Lord would never cheat?”
The amusement in Namu’s question was clear.
“Your mind has become stronger,” said Ga’brel. “It was not fear that paralysed you this time, but your transparent thoughts. You cannot assume Morden will let you move. A Dark Lord’s will attacks not just the mind but the body as well, through the mind. You must move without thought. Your body must act, without hesitation, without concern for anything other than the fight. If the Dark Lord gets into your mind, your body must ignore it. Find that place from your meditation where you separate yourself from everything and let your body act freely. Only then do you have even a chance against a Dark Lord. You cannot hope to beat a Dark Lord in a battle of wills. Meditate on what you have learnt here. Tomorrow you will face Namu.”
*****
The following day, Edwin was meditating in his room, preparing himself for the continuation of his training, when there was a knock and Namu entered. Harnessing his newfound control, Edwin stifled the anger that rose at her barging in without a by-your-leave. He took one more breath and followed it in and out of his body. He opened his eyes fully and told himself her rudeness was not intentional.
He expected to see Ga’brel follow her in—the two were inseparable and he wondered if there
was anything more than a professional relationship between them—but she was alone. She was also less than ideally dressed for a hard workout with sword and shield, or whatever other weapons she had in mind. Instead, she floated into the room, her thin frame draped with layers of lavender silks that hung to the floor, hiding her body so completely that only the style made clear she was a woman. Delicate, leaf-shaped silver clasps held her black hair behind her elven ears. Her make-up—a hint of colour under her cheekbones, black lines around her almond eyes, and rose lips—brought her normally wan face to life. Edwin found himself thinking how beautiful she was when she made the effort. Until now, she had been a pale and overly skinny woman who dressed largely in men’s clothes, and had proven to be useful with a light, but effective, fighting staff.
Perhaps she wasn’t here to fight. Perhaps she was here, in his room, alone, because she had other plans. Perhaps she was here to test his mettle in other ways, womanly ways, which he had to admit had been a weakness of his in the past. But why would she do that? The Dark Lord Morden was unlikely to give him the come-hither when they faced off. In truth, it had been a long time since he had dwelt on such matters, and in many ways it was a relief. Those urges had often brought nothing but trouble, Griselda being the prime case in point.
“Namu,” said Edwin by way of greeting as he got to his feet from his cushion. “No Ga’brel today?”
“Oh, no. He’s attending to other matters. It’s just me today. May I?”
She indicated the corner of his bed and sat down, balancing herself with a splayed hand to one side. If she tapped the bed and asked him to come sit next to her, he would have to refuse politely and ask her to leave. He had been reluctant enough to engage in being taught by these elves and thought it a worse idea to get involved more intimately with one of them. Pre-empting any move on her part, Edwin took a seat on the one chair he kept in the room. Namu watched him all the way. He felt as though she were undressing him with her eyes.
“I know why you’re here and I’m not interested.” He settled back into the chair and gripped the arms as if to demonstrate his resolute will.
Namu’s chime-like laugh rang out. “And why am I here, Edwin? Do I make you uncomfortable? You have a problem with women, don’t you?”
“I assure you, I have no problem at all with women. And what would you know of such matters?”
“I don’t mean like that, dear Edwin. I’m sure your prowess in that department is as skilled and impressive as your talents with a real sword.”
Again she laughed and Edwin had to do the counting thing he’d been taught to fight back the anger. She was teasing him, and if there was one thing he hated, it was being teased. Especially by a woman.
“Then what do you mean? Why is it you elves have to speak so cryptically all the time? I would prefer plain speaking.”
“You are right. We do. We are so long lived that sometimes we lack urgency. We should have learnt more from man, then maybe we would not have tired so. Let me be plain. You have become strong in mind and body but you still have a weakness. One weakness in particular. Your sister, Griselda. All of what we have done will come to nothing if we do not address this weakness and you are unable to overcome it. We can fight on the battlefield, and sweep hordes before us, but the final victory will be down to you, Edwin. You are a man and a hero. Our days have passed. We will buy you the time so you can face Morden and defeat him. But you will not be able to do that if you cannot come to terms with your sister. He will use her against you.”
“Why would he bring her to battle?”
“He will do whatever it takes to win. If he can use her to break you, he will. There is nothing he will not sacrifice, no person he would not sacrifice, if he thinks it will further his goal. He’s a Dark Lord.”
“All right, I get it. He’s a Dark Lord. You’re telling me he’ll use her against me. I don’t know what you expect me to do. She’s my sister. She’s the only family I have ever had. Maybe I’m not the right hero. Tell me, what can I do?”
Namu made no immediate reply. He tried to read what was going on behind those delicate eyes and could not. The pale, smooth skin of her face made no expression. She could have been carved from the same wood the chair he was sitting in was made from. He knew she was right. Morden would use Griselda against him. Even though Morden could not know exactly what had become of him, he would surely be ready for any circumstance. He had already shown great patience in the years he had prepared. There was no way he would be taken by surprise by the long-thought-dead hero returning at the eleventh hour to save the day. For a Dark Lord, Morden was clever.
“You have to let her go, Edwin.”
Let her go? What was this elf talking about? Griselda was his sister. Nothing could change that; it was a tie that could not be severed. “She’s my sister. She’ll always be of my blood. How can I possibly let her go?”
“I’m obviously not being clear enough. She must be dead to you, even if she lives. Morden will make threats against her, some worse than death, and you will be tempted to sacrifice everything for her. You must not do this. There is far too much at stake.”
“But I would sacrifice everything for her. Even myself.”
Namu sighed. It was something elves did a lot. ‘It’s snowing outside, sigh’. ‘I’m so tired of my life, sigh’. ‘There’s a Dark Lord threatening the world, sigh’. They spent an inordinate amount of time moping around, bemoaning their lives, as though being flawless and immortal was such a burden. Life was so hard for them. Edwin didn’t understand how they managed to get up in the morning, given the day ahead promised nothing but tedium. Except for the promise of facing off against a Dark Lord. Now that did seem to pique their interest. Their listlessness and lethargy had given way to impressive energy once they had been told why they had been woken from their deep sleep. It didn’t stop the sighing though. No. They still took every opportunity they could to let loose a sigh, as though to reaffirm how terrible they thought their lives were.
“Well, I would,” said Edwin. “There is nothing more important in life than those close to you. Those you love. I would sacrifice everything if I could save her.”
“And damn the rest of the world?”
“Exactly.”
“You don’t think the needs of the many outweigh those of the few?”
“No.”
Namu looked at him sidelong with a hint of a frown line on an otherwise flawless brow. “You would let the world slide into ruin as long as you were happy? Isn’t that selfish?”
Edwin didn’t understand why she was going on about this. He didn’t care about the rest of the world if Griselda, his sister, the one person he loved above all else, was lost to him. It wasn’t selfish of him to do everything he could to keep her from harm. It was no different from how everyone else was every day of their lives when it came to family. Everyone put their family first before all else. Even if the world did fall under the dominion of a Dark Lord, it would still not be worse than losing his sister.
“You should be glad I will do anything for her, as it means I will not rest until I have freed her from Morden.”
“Promise me you will not trust Morden in anything he may say or do. All his promises are empty. He will offer you everything you want only to betray you at the first opportunity. If it comes to him holding Griselda’s life in his hands, then she is already dead. If you submit to him, to gain her release, it will result in both your deaths. You must know that.”
Edwin’s bewilderment was deepening. Did this elf think he was an idiot? “Don’t trust the Dark Lord. Got it.”
“Good. Now, one last thing, and you might find this odd. Morden is not the only one who can play mind games. You should do everything you can to confuse and bewilder him, or even anger him so he may make a rash move. A Dark Lord is human too … maybe not human, but still vulnerable. In your confrontation, it will be as much what is said as what is done. Half the battle, if not all of it, happens in the bad mouthing before the
fight.”
Much as it pained Edwin, she was right. He had been driven mad by the revelation of the incestuous relationship between himself and Griselda. In their next meeting, if he could get under Morden’s skin, then perhaps that would give him the edge he needed to win the fight. He needed something good though. He didn’t think telling him how evil he was, or calling him names, was going to have the desired effect. He needed something personal. Then it came to him.
“I did kill his mother. Would that be the kind of thing to mention?”
“You what?”
“Killed his mother. With a butter knife. She screamed a lot.”
Namu was looking at him strangely, mouth open, eyes wide.
“She had to die. She had brought evil into the world. A good person couldn’t do that. A sheep cannot beget a wolf. It was justice.”
“You killed his mother,” Namu shrugged. “I didn’t even know Dark Lords had mothers. I suppose you can learn a new thing every day.”