“You distracted me,” she said.
Still laughing, Minsk rose, retrieved Tracer’s sword, and handed it to her. “Of course I did.” He turned and winked at Skylark and Grapeon. “I am hoping our friend Rick here will give me an extra helping of bread pudding tomorrow if I help him kick your butt.” He laughed again. “I did warn you not to be so cocky.”
Snatching the weapon out of Minsk’s hand, Tracer returned to an on-guard position and stared at the human. This time she did not take her eyes off him. “Try that again when I am ready and see what happens.”
The human shrugged and raised his weapon, touching blades with her the same as before.
Amir noticed Tracer’s arm start to move. In a maneuver too fast for him to make out completely, the human flicked his wrist. Tracer’s sword flew out of her grasp and landed at the feet of the corporal in the team next to them.
Tracer stared openmouthed at the human. Unlike last time, she seemed more amazed than angry. “How did you do that?”
The human smiled and motioned for the corporal to throw Tracer her sword. When their team leader had it back in her hand, the human grabbed her wrist with one hand while holding his sword against her blade with the other. In a slow and deliberate motion, he twisted his blade, applying pressure in a circular pattern. Although her sword didn’t leave her hand this time, Amir noticed her grip loosen a little. Letting go of her wrist, the human took up his position opposite Tracer and waved his free hand as if encouraging her to try the maneuver herself. With the two blades against each other, Tracer flicked her wrist. The sword remained in the man’s hand. The human grabbed her wrist with his left hand and forced her wrist to move in a circular motion, then returned to his guard position and motioned for her to try again. This time Amir noticed the man’s grip loosen a little as Tracer moved her sword. The human had her try it four more times at increasing speeds. On the fourth attempt, the human’s sword went flying through the air.
“Let me try that,” said Minsk as he borrowed Tracer’s sword and took up a guard position facing the human.
Once the man retrieved his blade, he took up a guard position of his own but did not touch blades like he’d done with Tracer. The human smiled and made a motion for Minsk to attack.
With a smile of his own, Minsk lunged forward. A second later, his sheathed blade was flying through the air. The human touched the tip of his blade to Minsk’s chest and said the touché word again.
Before Minsk could pick up his sword, Grapeon grabbed his shield and drew his sword out of its scabbard.
“Grapeon,” said Tracer with an edge to her voice Amir had never heard her use before. “This is only practice.”
With a devious smile, Grapeon said, “I will not hurt him. It is one thing to try fancy flourishes with a sword when you are not facing a real blade. It is another when the keen edge of the opponent’s steel is waiting for you. I want to show him the difference. I promise not to draw any blood.”
By this time, most of the camp was gathered in a large circle watching Tracer, Grapeon, and the human. Amir noticed Commander Astradis and his monks observing the goings on as well. So were the two mages and the high priestess.
“You have a shield,” said Tracer. “I hardly think that is fair.”
“Then give him a shield,” said Grapeon. “I doubt he knows how to use one anyway.”
Minsk offered his shield to the human.
The man shook his head and pointed at the dark-haired elf’s dagger that was attached to the left side of his belt.
Minsk glanced at Tracer.
“Give it to him,” said Tracer. “I want to see what he thinks he can do against a shield with a dagger.”
Unhooking the dagger from his belt, Minsk secured the blade in its sheath with a strip of leather and tossed it to the human. With the sheathed sword in his right hand and the dagger in the left, the human motioned for Grapeon to attack.
“Oh no,” laughed Grapeon. “I will not fall for that one. You try attacking me and see what happens.” With that, he waved his sword in a manner daring the human to attack.
The human feinted to the left with his sword before sliding on one knee and kicking out with his left leg at the point where Grapeon’s leather shin guard met his knee armor. The elf leaned forward swinging at the human’s head, but the man was no longer there. In a blinding move, the human twisted to the side, kicked Grapeon’s feet out from underneath him, and came up behind the elf, pulling hard on his long hair. The human fell backwards, taking Grapeon with him. By the time they both hit the ground, the human’s legs were wrapped around the elf’s arms, pinning them in place. The human’s sword was against the elf’s neck, and the tip of the man’s dagger was hovering a finger’s width above Grapeon’s eye.
No one laughed. In fact, the camp was dead silent as everyone stared at the outcome of the fight. Amir was as speechless as the elves.
The high priestess was the first to speak. “I think that is what our friend Rick calls a touché.”
Tracer was the next to find her voice. “Well, if touché means he kicked Grapeon’s butt, then I would say that was definitely one big touché.”
The camp broke out in laughter. Even Amir chuckled.
The human released his grip on Grapeon.
Once they were both on their feet, Grapeon glanced around at the laughing elves. He nodded his head and looked at the human. “All right. Touché it is.” He laughed a little half-heartedly, but it was a laugh nonetheless. “Next time though, I will attack you. Then we will see who ends up with a sword at his throat.”
Commander Astradis strode forward and waved one of his monks, the youngest and least experienced of the five Kreorian guards, to the center of the circle. “Meshan,” said the commander. “See what you can do against him.”
Amir had been sitting on his boulder the whole time, watching the show. He rose now to get a better view. The fame of the Kreorian guards and their skills at unarmed combat had spread even to the halls of the Ecarian giants.
Meshanahl gave his commander a bow and walked toward the human. Bowing again, the young monk said, “Shall we?”
The human eyed the monk before glancing at Commander Astradis. The human spread his arms a little as if asking a question.
The commander nodded at Meshanahl and then at the human.
Amir noticed the human glance at the high priestess.
She gave the barest nod of her head.
Shrugging his shoulders, the human did something with his thumbs as he gave his wrists a flip. The sheaths flew off both weapons, leaving the keen edges of the sword and dagger gleaming in the fading light of the setting sun.
“Commander Astradis,” said High Priestess Mia in a voice higher pitched than normal. “Are you sure? I do not want this to get out of hand.”
“It will be all right,” said Commander Astradis. “Meshan will not hurt him, and unless this Rick of ours is skilled beyond any human I have ever met, he will not be able to touch Meshan.”
The high priestess seemed to relax a little on the outside, but Amir noticed her knuckles turn white where she gripped her staff.
Without further ado, Meshanahl and the human circled each other once, twice, then a third time. They came together in a blur of arms and legs. After two heartbeats, they separated. Meshanahl gave the human a slight bow as the human lowered his weapons.
“Why are they stopping?” said Grapeon. “I thought they were going to fight.”
Close enough to overhear, Commander Astradis said, “The fight is over. The human stopped his dagger just short of Meshan’s neck. Meshan stopped his punch shy of the human’s temple.”
“What do you mean, it is over?” said Tracer. “They just started.”
Commander Astradis did not smile, but his eyes glinted. “If their combat had been real, they would both be dead.”
High Priestess Mia stepped forward. “Are you saying it was a draw?”
The commander nodded. “Yes. It was a draw, if y
ou call both opponents dying a draw.”
At the commander’s words, Amir eyed the human closer, trying to imagine him in black armor. No. This human can fight, but he is not the one who murdered Glory. I would sense it.
The camp was silent for a dozen heartbeats as the elves seemed to digest the monk commander’s words.
Finally, the high priestess spoke. “Sergeant Thornbriar, I believe we have had enough entertainment for tonight. We have another long day tomorrow. Perhaps we should all get some sleep.”
“Of course, High Priestess,” said the sergeant, then he turned to crowd. “You heard her. Unless you want to pull a double guard shift tonight, I would advise you to get to your bedrolls now while you have the chance.”
Amir returned to the rock where he’d been sitting and started gathering his things as the other elves made their way back to their respective parts of the camp. Once most of the elves had cleared out, the high priestess looked at Tracer.
“Give our friend Rick some weapons, Corporal,” Mia said. “He might be useful if we meet up with those orcs tomorrow.” She started to turn away but turned back after a couple of steps. “Oh, and have him pull his share of guard duty from now on.” She smiled. “That is, as long as it does not interfere with his cooking.”
Tracer returned the elf’s smile. “I will most definitely make sure it does not keep him from cooking, High Priestess. I think the rest of my team would mutiny on me if they didn’t get a hot breakfast in the morning.”
Amir’s stomach rumbled in agreement.
Chapter 18 – Guard Duty
___________________________________
Just before midnight, Richard sensed a life form approach his position as he lay under his blanket next to the boulder. He’d been forced to use the thin blanket as a barrier against a cold breeze coming down from the mountains. Opening his eyes, he saw a bulky outline against the stars. The night was dark since the moon was no longer up, but he didn’t need to see clearly to recognize the frequency of the life form with his passive scan. It was the big male, Amir.
Richard sighed and sat up as the big man drew close. Amir stopped close enough for Richard to see what he was wearing. The brute was dressed in his chainmail and helmet, carrying the extra-large sledge hammer he never seemed to be without in his right hand and his shield in his left. A longsword was strapped to his side. The man pointed at the pile of equipment the elf Minsk had brought over earlier that evening and said a couple of words of gibberish.
“I think he wants you to put the leather armor on,” said Nickelo in Richard’s mind. “Based upon the procedures of the others in camp over the last few days, I calculate it is about time for the guards to change shifts. I would say you have just been promoted from KP to guard duty.”
“Lucky me,” Richard said.
Amir said a word of gibberish in a much harsher tone than he’d used the first time and pointed at the pile of equipment again.
Throwing off his blanket, Richard stood and strapped on the short sword and dagger he’d been given. When Amir pointed his hammer at the armor and shield, Richard shook his head. “No way. That stuff would just slow me down.” He patted the short sword. “I’m fine with this.”
Although it was too dark to see much, Richard could almost feel the big man’s face growing red.
“I do not think he appreciates you not putting on your armor,” said Nickelo. “Maybe you should appease him a little by at least taking the shield. No use stirring up trouble.”
“Fine,” Richard said aloud. “I’ll take the shield, but I’m not putting on that leather armor. It would do me more harm than good.” Bending down, he picked up the shield and stuck his left arm through the straps. “There. Are you happy?”
Amir seemed to stare at Richard for a couple of seconds before mumbling a few words of gibberish. Spinning on his heels, the big man took off at a brisk pace toward the part of the camp where the group’s leaders stayed.
Following a few steps behind, Richard noticed a lone female sitting on a knee-high boulder with a staff across her lap. Although dark, he had no trouble telling who it was. Mia’s Power source glowed brighter than any of the others in the camp.
“Why are we going to her?” Richard asked his battle computer.
Nickelo laughed. “Sometimes you are not very observant, Wizard Scout. Our friend Amir here is closer to a human than an elf. I calculate he cannot see any better at night than you can. When he was awakened for guard duty last night, he went to the priestess before taking his post. I calculate she cast a night-vision spell of some sort on him.”
“Makes sense,” Richard said. “Maybe she’ll cast a night-vision spell on me too. I wouldn’t mind being able to see. I hate stumbling around in the dark.”
“At least you have your passive scan, Wizard Scout. You can tell a lot about the terrain near you just by monitoring Power readings. Even the bushes and rocks give off some residual Power.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same as seeing. I can get around without breaking my neck, but I’d hate to be in a fight using just my passive scan to keep track of my enemies.”
“Then I calculate you had better hope the priestess either casts a spell on you or that you do not get into a fight.”
At their approach, Mia stood and said a few words.
Richard had no idea what the elf said, but her tone of voice and the flash of a smile told him she was glad to see them.
“You like her, don’t you?” asked Nickelo
“Yeah, I do. She’s a good leader. I admire her.”
“Sure you do,” laughed Nickelo. “I have monitored the way you have been watching her when she walks around camp. Based upon the increases in your heart and breathing rate, you have been admiring more than her leadership abilities.”
“Just can it, Nick. She’s a good leader; that’s all. I’ll admit she’s pleasing to the eye, but most of the elves are. So what?”
“So nothing, Wizard Scout. I was just making an observation.”
Richard was about to tell his battle computer what he could do with his observations when he sensed the priestess drawing Power from her reserve. She said a word of gibberish that he heard but quickly forgot. The Power converted to magic and reached out to touch Amir. The area around the big man’s eyes glowed a soft red.
“See,” said Nickelo. “I told you she cast a night-vision spell on him before he went on guard last night.”
“Whatever,” Richard said.
The elf turned to Ricard and pointed at his cloth tunic and then at Amir’s chainmail. She said a word of gibberish that was an obvious question.
Richard shook his head and touched his tunic with his right hand as he raised his shield with his left. “Trust me. This is all I need. I don’t think chainmail would do me much good.”
The priestess said something to Amir. After the big man snorted and said a couple of words of gibberish, the elf shrugged her shoulders and looked back at Richard. He sensed her drawing Power from her reserve. When she said a word that he heard and quickly forgot, the Power changed to magic. As the line of magic reached out toward Richard’s head, something inside him stirred. He sensed Power from deep inside himself shoot out and knock the line of magic aside.
The elf priestess gasped and took a step back, raising her staff as if expecting Richard to attack. She needn’t have bothered. He was just as shocked as her.
“What the hell just happened?” Richard asked his battle computer.
“Hmmm. Good question, Wizard Scout. As far as I can tell, you drew Power from one of your reserves and used it to prevent the elf’s spell from reaching you. The Power did not come from the reserve you use to heal yourself. It came from one of the other two reserves.”
“The links to those reserves are disconnected,” Richard said. “How can that be?”
“I have insufficient data to make a full analysis,” said Nickelo. “If I had to guess, which I calculate I do poorly, I would say you have some kind of innate ability tha
t resists Power, or in this case, magic. Apparently your other two reserves are not as disconnected as we originally thought. Too bad you cannot draw Power from them on your own.”
“Yeah, too bad.”
The elf was pointing at Richard and saying words of gibberish loud enough that the elves Richard knew as Derander and Freestrod got out of their bedrolls and came over. The three elves talked for a full minute, pointing at Richard several times in the process.
The elf Freestrod drew Power from his reserve and cast a spell. A thin line of magic tentatively made its way toward Richard. Before it reached him, a corresponding line of Power shot out from Richard and knocked the line of magic aside.
“That’s very interesting,” said Nickelo in their shared space. “The Power came from your second reserve. I calculate your body automatically attempts to resist energy from affecting you.”
“Are you saying I’m immune to magic?” Richard asked, then quickly thought about the advantages and disadvantages in that.
“Not hardly, Wizard Scout. I calculate you can resist lower-level spells or uses of Power, but your innate ability does not seem strong enough to resist more powerful spells. I believe you would need to use your Power to form a defensive shield of some type to do that.”
“Just how do I do that?”
“With the current disconnects to your Power reserves?” asked Nickelo. “I calculate you cannot. I calculate you will have to be satisfied with your Power automatically resisting lower-level spells. Too bad. My algorithms indicate that means you will be immune to most beneficial spells but still be susceptible to more powerful attack spells.”
“Yeah,” Richard said. “I’ve got a feeling that’s the story of my life.”
“I calculate you are correct.”
The three elves and Amir conferred for a couple more minutes. Mia, Derander, and Freestrod all tried casting spells on Richard. The spells increased in intensity with each casting. Finally, a spell from Mia overpowered his innate defenses as a series of miniature lightning bolts knocked him to the ground. Mia rushed over and knelt beside him muttering words Richard knew were not part of a spell. The flecks of silver in her eyes glinted in the starlight, and he heard concern in her voice.
Wizard Gigantic (Intergalactic Wizard Scout Chronicles Book 9) Page 18