Gathering of the Titans: The Tol Chronicles Book 2 (21 page)

Jadean Zov was the Doen-ya, or Spiritual Leader, of the Academy of Fence and Defence, (AFD), on the southeast side of Goblinopolis, within sight of the immense grain fields and fruit orchards that occupy tens of thousands of hectares south of the city. She held the rarified title of Randora, which in Elvish translates roughly to “Chaos Warrior:” the first to do so in several generations. She was technically a Heterelf—a full elf, but with the blood of at least one other race strongly detectable in her genome—but the only outward manifestation of that was a slightly more muscular build and a little shorter stature. Elves are very secretive about their genetic makeup; this added to the fact that Jadean was a martial arts uber-master meant that no one ever pried into what she was unwilling to divulge freely—at least, no one who knew anything about elves and their culture. Any who did pry were soundly rebuffed in a manner that made it quite clear they would not be wise to inquire further.

Jadean had grown up in the fencing community; fencing was in her blood. Her father Sir Aqriz Zov was for a time the world’s champion freestyle kumite fencer, after having first distinguished himself in the army by almost single-handedly repelling a localized orc invasion with a bill-guisarme and poignard. He was the only elf ever raised to the rank of Knight of the Crimson, in fact.

Tol had watched a number of Jadean’s matches, and those of her students, over the years. He was greatly in awe of her consummate skill with any blade at all. Jadean always made the weapon seem an extension of her body, wielding a sword with the same ease and comfort as simply waving her hand. Tol was fond of saying Jadean could take out a squadron of commandoes with a spatula.

So, after spending a full day with Selpla and giving her the gifts he bought her as well as a little more, it was at the Academy of Fence and Defence that Tol found himself on the second morning after returning to his native city. “Tol?” Jadean said, smiling as he walked in the door. “I haven’t laid eyes on you in years. Oh, it’s
Sir
Tol now, isn’t it? Very impressive.”

Tol waved his hand dismissively. “Not in comparison with anything you’ve accomplished. Anyway, I didn’t come to talk about me.”

Jadean offered him a seat and some herbal infusion.

“So, why did you come?”

Tol leaned back and considered his words.

“I came to offer you a…proposition, of sorts.”

Jadean laughed and batted her eyes at him.

“I’m flattered, to say the least.”

Tol’s own eyes got wide and he blushed a lovely blue-green.

“No…I mean…a
business
proposition. Really, more of a challenge.”

Still chuckling, she took a sip of her infusion.

“What manner of challenge?”

“A sword fight. To the death. With an…unusual opponent.”

Jadean’s face took on a more serious cast.

“I don’t fight outrance, only plaisance. Society frowns on the first; they call it murder. But you of course are aware of that. So, why ask?”

“Killing this opponent will not be murder, or in fact any crime at all, under edict.”

“Is he a fugitive, then, or perhaps a convicted killer himself?”

“No. He’s simply not alive and so cannot be murdered, per se.”

Jadean raised her eyebrows. “Not alive? How am I to kill something that is not alive to begin with?”

“Have you ever heard the term
Duellomortu
?”

Jadean smirked at him. “You cannot be serious. Duellomortu is a fictitious magical construct employed as a thought experiment in higher-level martial philosophy teachings. It does not literally exist.”

“I can promise you this one does. Experienced it myself, and saw it off an elf in Asga Teslu.”

“Who told this thing you encountered was indeed Duellomortu?”

“A transcendent archmage by the name of Oloi. Same guy who helped me nab Pyfox.”

She looked thoughtful.

“I believe we have met. An archmage is about the only authority I would trust to be able to categorize a manifestation of that nature correctly.” Jadean stood up and sighed.

“If Duellomortu it is, then I have no choice but to accept the challenge. To do otherwise would bring shame upon myself and my scholabellum. I will want to train first. How long do I have?”

“Every day we delay brings more hardship to the people and businesses who depend on the Limited carriage to and from the Western cities. This thing is infesting one of the coaches that provide a link between the engine and passenger or freight buggies.”

“Then, I will begin now.”

She walked gracefully, fluidly over to a raised platform covered with a thin mat and sat cross-legged upon it. Fifteen seconds later she was absolutely motionless. She didn’t even seem to be breathing. Tol was beginning to get worried when suddenly her eyes opened. She stood, and reached for two swords from a rack of over a dozen. Her entire body snapped
en garde
like a gigantic work of origami. She took three measured breaths, and then worked her way through an ever more complex series of katas until she and the blades were whirling, diving, undulating, and spinning almost faster than the eye could follow.

As the final movement of the ultimate kata, called ‘flashing razor,’ she turned a complete somersault while executing two entirely separate sub-katas, one with each arm, and before touching down on the mat slashed with incredible speed and precision at four thick cords suspended vertically in a large frame. Each of the cords had a thin red line encircling it at a different spot along its length. While she was cooling down on the mat, Tol examined them. Each was sliced very neatly exactly on the line: not the tiniest bit above or below.

“I will execute that master kata sequence three more times and then I will be ready.”

Tol summoned his express carriage and they left the next morning. Tol and Wijjy had decided it was better to uncouple the possessed coach and leave it on a siding at the edge of the desert to minimize the chance that anyone would wander near and be injured and/or traumatized.

During their journey Tol summoned Oloi once more, to have him brief Jadean on how the challenge was issued and what to expect.

“You’ll be facing a creature which has imprinted upon it the basic rules of fencing, but no native skill. It will absorb and match whatever skill you exhibit, as it was originally created partially for use as a training device. You cannot kill it literally, but if you defeat it according to its internal rules it will dissipate. It will,” Oloi added, looking at her pointedly, “Most likely represent the greatest challenge of your life and if you die, you will take its place.”

Jadean nodded. “A challenge skirted is a life diminished. I am ready.”

When they reached the siding, they disembarked the Crimson Express and had it back away a hundred meters from the haunted coach.

“I don’t know exactly how this is going to go,” Tol said, “But I don’t want anyone else hurt or any unnecessary damage done.”

He and Jadean approached the coach cautiously. Oloi, who had been forced to return to The Slice, had given them detailed instructions on how to issue the challenge. Jadean stood in the aisle of the coach, head bowed, saber in one hand and colichemarde in the other. She looked up.

“Challenge is hereby issued to that which waits in this place. I bring lawful weapons and am prepared to do combat in the lawful style.”

There was dead silence for a few long moments, then from what sounded like a great distance there came a shrill noise that got louder and lower in pitch as it approached them. At last it seemed to be emanating from the air directly in front of Jadean.

“Llllllawful challlllenge hassss been offered annnd accepted,” it hissed,“Therrrre must beeee noooo othersss.”

It stopped. Jadean looked at Tol. “I think it’s talking about you.”

Tol rolled his eyes. “Fine; I’ll wait outside.” He walked over and set his pen on a window ledge before exiting.

Once Tol was gone, the voice resumed. The hissing was gone. What remained was a broken voice, guttural and dead. A spectral figure with rapier and buckler wavered in the air a scarce meter before Jade’s face.

“Are you prepared to begin? This combat is outrance,” it rasped.

“I am aware of outrance and ready to begin.”

“Then, combat is joined.”

With that the Duellomortu slashed viciously at her saber arm and before she could even react threw a solid punch toward her face with its buckler. She parried the slash and ducked out of the punch.

“That was not a lawful attack,” she said.

The apparition laughed. “
I
decide what is lawful here. I judge that attack within the rules, as is
this
one.”

Before it finished speaking the Duellomortu rolled right with blinding speed and came out of the spin with rapier point facing backward so that it preceded him, driving it hard at her throat. She brought the colichemarde up to parry near the hilt of the rapier, sliding along it until at the tip she twisted suddenly downward, hooking the single heavy quillion over the rapier blade and neatly snapping it in half. The upper portion was flung several meters and skittered along the floor of the coach. The specter laughed as his rapier blade magically regrew.

“I would wager,” Jadean said as she launched a complex cross- thrusting lunge, “That my blades, once broken, would not be so quick to repair themselves.”

The Duellomortu laughed again. “Mortal warriors wield mortal weapons.”

“So, by ‘lawful,’ you really mean ‘whatever gives you an unfair advantage,’” Jadean observed.

“It may seem unfair to you, but I was created without any skills. I must absorb and incorporate them into my makeup on the fly for every bout. That is a tremendous handicap that far outweighs any issues you have with broken blades.”

Jadean thought about this. “Granted. I will cease to question you.”

“Especially when I have opened you up like a fileted toothfish,” it cried, launching a rapid combination of thrusts and slashes, which Jadean deftly dodged, albeit barely. She leapt completely over a sweeping cut and brought both her blades out in a crossing pattern that would have neatly decapitated a living opponent, but had no effect on her shadowy opponent.

“I
know
that made contact,” she said, parrying two more thrusting attacks in rapid succession, “So what sort of rules are we playing under here?”

“The rules were set down by the master. He did not like his challenges trivial. You must land multiple killing blows on me to win. I, of course, need kill you only once. I even pointed out to him once that his rules were unfair. He responded that life was unfair and he wanted to simulate life.”

“Noble of him, I’m sure. What became of him?”

“I killed him, of course. He was distracted by a vile creature who looked a lot like you.”

“Oh ho! You were
jealous
, then.”

“I know not this word, jealous.”

“I think you do.” She accompanied this with a flurry of off-hand swipes followed by a vicious rising thrust that changed direction at the last possible second and impaled the specter beneath the right arm and into the chest. Or would have, on a living creature.

“That’s two,” she said, grimly, executing a standing backflip to avoid the phantom’s counter-attack.

“Yes. Two. What fun! Now, the only thing more entertaining than an apparently immortal opponent is...”

“Two of them!” answered a duplicate specter behind her.

True martial arts masters have two levels of defensive capability: the
kuori
, or outer shell, and the
ydin
, or core. The
ydin
is rarely accessed, as it comes into play only in life or death situations, in which people at Jadean’s level rarely find themselves due to their superior skills. With the appearance of the second sword-specter, however, Jadean snapped into
ydin
.

In the core there is nothing but you and your opponents; all else fades. There is no sound, no speech, no background. Only you and the foe exist, in high-definition, ultra-clarity. Each movement is in slow-motion, each reaction exquisitely choreographed by brain strata unreachable under any but the most extreme circumstances. In this state Jadean was quite simply an unstoppable killing machine.

She leapt high into the air and in one blinding, blurred cascade of motion as she descended slashed both opponents hard across the face, feinted immediately to draw them offside, cut them both across the midriff, feinted once more as she touched down, and finally continued into a crouch and sprang forward, impaling each with a different weapon. Both opponents abruptly vanished.

She drew back into the en garde position and waited, her breathing tightly controlled. Every muscle in her body was on high alert but relaxed, ready for whatever it was called upon to do. Nothing happened for a few pregnant moments, and then the specter reappeared, more solid than before.

It stood in front of Jadean and slowly slid rapier into scabbard. It bowed formally and said, “Most impressive, Mistress. I hereby declare the malediction lifted.”

With that, rather than fading away, it dissipated like smoke from a dying fire. In a few seconds there was nothing left. Sensing that the threat was past, Jadean finally dropped her guard. She stuck her head out of the coach.

“All clear. You can come back in now.”

Tol returned. “So, is it over?”

“I believe it is. The apparition declared the curse lifted,” replied Jadean, exhaling fully for the first time since the battle began.

Tol smiled. “I knew you were the right person for the job.” He walked over to the ledge and picked up his pen. “Petey, here, probably has some amazing footage for us. Am I right?”

“You are absolutely correct, Sir Tol-u-ol. Would you care to see it?”

“Yes, Petey, that would be most appreciated.”

A tight, rapidly scanning beam of light emanated from the pen to form a small cube of high-resolution video in the air before their faces. In it was a three-dimensional depiction of the battle, complete with surround-sound audio.

“That’s one heck of a pen you got there,” observed Jadean as they watched the spectacle. “I’m guessing you didn’t buy it from some mail-order catalog.”