Revelation (Seeds of Humanity: The Cobalt Heresy) (38 page)

My herald grinned wryly as he turned to face the swashbuckler. “My Lord suggests that your Lord return to his usual post beneath his Master’s robes before he loses more than his dwindling dignity,” Pi’Vari said, his voice as smooth as silk.

Kaven’s face turned red instantly and the swashbuckler’s hand went to his overly-stylized basket hilt. “My Lord’s honor demands that such words be retracted, lest his fury be unleashed,” he growled.

Pi’Vari blinked twice and then stared at the man before erupting into loud, mocking laughter, complete with tears streaming down his cheeks after only a few seconds. When he had apparently recovered control of himself, he met the swashbuckler’s eyes. “Your Lord’s fury?” he asked incredulously. “My Lord would like nothing better than to see the form your Lord’s ‘fury’ might take inside the cages!”

The swashbuckler sneered. “And who will I have the pleasure of butchering like a suckling pig?” he demanded.

Pi’Vari looked around with a confused expression before his eyes suddenly found Dancer’s small form beside me, causing my herald to jump as he pretended to have just been startled by the sight of the little man. “Ah,” he said, wiping nonexistent sweat from his brow, “there he is.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Allow me to introduce my Lord’s Champion, and indeed, the Primus Champion of House Wiegraf!” I could tell he wasn’t thrilled about depending on Dancer to do the job, but Pi’Vari was in too deep by now and he had to sell the whole thing, which to his credit he did. “He is Dancer, Master of Giants, Slayer of Dragons, and Splitter of the Sky!”

Now it was the swashbuckler’s turn to laugh uncontrollably, but Dancer held his poker face throughout.

“This?” the herald-cum-Champion asked in disbelief. “You would hide behind children with primitive pig-stickers?” The swashbuckler turned to his Lord, Kaven Urkalia, who nodded without a moment’s hesitation. A savage grin spread across the swashbuckler’s face as he turned to fix his gaze on me, “My Lord accepts!”

The trip to the Magisterial offices was a quick one in their hovercraft, and in less than ten minutes we had checked in with the offices and lodged the appropriate paperwork. A few minutes after that, we were gathered around the entrance to a fifty foot tall pyramidal cage made of jagged iron bars set inside a man-made cavern a block away from the Great Tower.

Dancer removed his bearskin cloak, and the other man took off his cape, along with a bag’s worth of jewelry and other adornments. The Magister overseeing the affair read off the docket as both Dancer and his opponent continued readying themselves for battle.

“This dispute has been recorded in the Imperial Record by myself, Magister Carlovi Beturin. The principals in this dispute are present: one Apprentice Kaven ‘Cerulean’ Urkalia,” he said with a look to the blonde-haired mage, who confirmed with a nod, “and one Journeyman Jezran ‘Cobalt’ Wiegraf. The particulars of this dispute’s origin have been omitted by the mutual agreement of all involved parties.” We nodded together and he continued.

“The Champions for these respective Lords of the Veldyrian Realms are: Trayvin, assigned to House Urkalia’s escort staff,” the Magister said, taking a moment to watch the swashbuckler display his grace and speed with his chosen weapon in a series of slashes and feints made in the empty air as he warmed up for the showdown.

The Magister looked down at his paper and then at Dancer, who was doing standing splits up against a nearby stone wall. The Magister shook his head piteously before continuing, “And Dancer, Interim Champion Primus of House Wiegraf.”

The Magister turned to Kaven Urkalia. “As the acceptant of this challenge, you are given the choice of selecting terms. You may either specify the conditions for victory, which may be: Points, Blood, or Defeat, the latter of which conditions may include death, critical dismemberment, or submission,” he said before holding a pause, “or you may alternately choose the compensation to be provided from the loser to the victor, should you cede your right to dictate the terms of the trial.”

Kaven grinned and replied, “I choose to specify Defeat as the victory condition.”

The Magister nodded and turned to me. “And you must now select compensation to be provided by the loser to the victory,” he said officially.

I really didn’t know about this part. All I knew was that Dancer had to fight the guy, and that this would forestall any further challenges from Kaven Urkalia and his House for another year. I thought hard for a moment before an idea flashed into my mind. Without thinking about it for more than a second, I blurted, “Winner gets the loser’s Champion.”

Magister Carlovi Beturin nodded and recorded our terms on the paper. Kaven looked a little surprised at my terms, but he recovered quickly.

“Affix your seals and signatures to this form, and the challenge will commence,” the Magister instructed. I moved to comply and saw a large, black-skinned figure sitting alone in the common area of the arena’s amphitheater. I recognized him immediately as Arch Magos Euripides Crenshaw, who according to rumor had never failed to attend the ‘trials’ which took place in the arena. His skin was darker than any I’d ever seen back home, but it wasn’t the unnatural, glossy shade of Sundered, like Baeld or Gaeld.

I returned my focus to the task at hand, and after we had both affixed our signatures the Magister motioned for Trayvin and Dancer to enter the cage. “Gentlemen, you hereby take up arms in defense of your Lords’ honor,” he said in a voice that filled the entire underground chamber, which normally held thousands of spectators, but the impromptu nature of the duel had failed to attract more than a few dozen people ringside. “Once inside the cage, there are no rules of engagement. You are permitted to enter with weapons and whatever armor you deem fit, as this contest is a fully sanctioned battle, the outcome of which may well be your deaths,” he said pointedly. “Your Lords and allies may not assist you with mundane or magical intervention of any form, either before or during the contest. There are no other restrictions on your conduct once inside the cage.”

With that, the Magister turned to Kaven and myself. “You may now give last-minute instructions to your Champions but be advised that once the cage is closed they will no longer be able to hear your instructions, as the field prevents them from seeing or hearing anything that happens outside of the duel.” He cleared his throat before perfunctorily adding, “You will, of course, be able to observe everything which happens within the cage.”

He moved to unlock the cage door, and I went over to where Dancer was finishing the same stretching routine I had seen a hundred times.

“Dancer,” I said quietly, “if you think you can’t take him, it’s ok to try those new steps.” I looked over at Trayvin, who was cracking his neck and bouncing on the balls of his feet as the Urkalia Apprentice gave him some last-minute instructions. “But I would like you to avoid killing him if you can,” I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. “If you can get him to surrender, that’s best. But if things are too close,” I warned, “you just kill him and I’ll deal with the fallout.”

Dancer’s eyes were locked on his opponent, but he glanced up at me. “No kill,” he confirmed, “quit best.”

I nodded. “Unless he’s too good, then you just kill him,” I repeated.

Dancer nodded curtly and I heard the iron cage door open. We turned and proceeded to the doorway and the Magister raised his voice again. “By entering this cage, you confirm that you understand the nature of the duel,” he said for the nearly nonexistent audience, and I saw Arch Magos Euripides lean forward in his seat in order to appraise Dancer more closely, “and that this is a duel which may well result in one, or both, of your deaths.”

Trayvin snickered. “I understand,” he said confidently.

Dancer shrugged. “Yes,” he said simply.

Magister Carlovi Beturin nodded and ushered the two men into the cage. “Proceed to the two circles. When you are both in the ready position, the door will close and the duel begins,” he instructed.

Dancer and Trayvin moved to the meter-wide circles near the center of the cage and the Magister prepared to close the door. When both men were in their respective positions, the Magister closed the door with a bang and the duel began.

Trayvin was bouncing on the balls of his feet with his sword held lightly in his left hand, while Dancer circled slowly to the swashbuckler’s left.

I had never fenced in my life, but Trayvin’s combination of height, length, and apparent agility looked like it could pose serious problems to my Champion if Dancer didn’t figure out a way to use the terrain to his advantage.

Trayvin’s blade lashed out with blinding speed, and it was all Dancer could do to avoid getting run through as he spun sideways. It quickly became clear that he hadn’t avoided the blow entirely when a thin line of red opened up across his back.

The swordsman sneered and Dancer continued his circling motion after a moment’s pause. Kaven Urkalia looked on with a smug expression, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d made a mistake by allowing this challenge to happen.

Dancer lunged with his spear, but without his usual grace for some reason and he stumbled almost immediately. Trayvin easily sidestepped the awkward attack and stabbed down into Dancer’s shoulder, opening a nasty gash which oozed bright red blood immediately.

Dancer looked furious with himself and regained his composure, but he’d already been struck twice by the taller man. The first wound had probably damaged little more than the little man’s pride, but the second one would definitely have an impact as the fight went on.

The swashbuckler, on the other hand, looked sufficiently pleased with himself as he danced around in long, graceful steps.

Dancer’s grip on his spear tightened and he charged toward the larger man, and thankfully this time his feet didn’t betray him. He stabbed and slashed with the primitive-looking weapon, but the majority of his attacks hit nothing but air as his opponent spun and swayed out of harm’s way, only needing to parry with his slender, elegant blade a few times.

Dancer’s hands were usually quite fast, but he looked slower this time for some reason. It was possible that Co’Zar’I’Us’ mark had made a larger impact on his physical performance than I had suspected.

The onslaught continued as Dancer chased Trayvin all the way around the cage, landing not a single blow in the process but receiving a handful of quick slashes across his torso for his trouble. Eventually he relented and appeared to re-consider his tactics, drawing deep, measured breaths as he did so.

The swashbuckler was smugly bouncing back and forth on his toes, mocking the little man’s inability to land a single blow thus far, and frankly I was getting concerned.

 “Will you not at least make this sporting?” asked Trayvin venomously before suddenly unleashing an onslaught of his own.

He stabbed and whipped the tip of his thin blade back and forth as he drove forward with blinding speed, and it quickly became obvious that he had the intention of corralling Dancer into one of the corners of the cage, where he could land blow after blow until the little man could no longer fight.

Dancer clearly knew this as well and when he was almost out of room to maneuver, he lashed out with his spear and rolled to Trayvin’s left.

The little man’s timing was perfect but Trayvin’s reflexes were just too good as he opened up a large gash along Dancer’s clavicle, missing his exposed neck by only a few inches as the little man rolled past him and back into the center of the cage where he quickly regained his feet.

Trayvin’s sneer only widened until it was a wolfish grin. “There is no shame admitting you cannot win,” he seethed as he stalked toward Dancer with clearly murderous intent.

Dancer was on his feet and backpedaling as quickly as he could as he reversed grip on his weapon. Then, in an utterly inexplicable move, he hurled the spear at the oncoming swashbuckler. Trayvin easily avoided the missile, even though he was also clearly surprised by Dancer’s choice to abandon his only weapon.

My heart sank as I watched Trayvin’s pace slow as he backed Dancer into the corner. There was no way Dancer could win without a weapon of some kind, and without Sky Splitter it was almost impossible to see a path to victory for my little Champion. A flash of movement caught my eye and I glanced to see Euripides Crenshaw leaning forward with anticipation, and something akin to amusement, burning in his visage.

“Surrender,” spat Trayvin, and I returned my focus to the duel, “now that you are unarmed, your only alternative is death.”

Dancer’s eyes snapped side to side in apparent panic, and the swashbuckler shook his head piteously as he deliberately drew his blade back for a killing strike.

At the instant before Trayvin leapt forward with the killing blow, Dancer made a fist with his right hand above his head and snapped it down and back behind his hip. I saw a blur of motion from behind the swashbuckler as his sword plunged toward Dancer’s heart, followed by a short scream passing the man’s lips.

Dancer easily sidestepped the blade and the collapsing body of the swashbuckler, who landed in a heap against the corner of the cage with Sky Splitter protruding from his back. As he fell forward past my Champion, Dancer deftly grabbed the shaft of his mysterious spear and jerked it free with barely any effort, striking the butt against the ground emphatically a few seconds after Trayvin had collapsed in a motionless heap and striking a superior pose near the center of the stage.

I heard applause from the viewing section and I looked to see Arch Magos Euripides smiling savagely as he stood to his feet, applauding for several seconds before leaving the arena while chuckling darkly to himself.

After he had gone, Dancer turned slowly and approached his opponent. He kicked the sword away from the swashbuckler’s hand before resting the tip of his spear against Trayvin’s neck. The look of shock and terror on the man’s face was unmistakable, and Dancer looked down at his fallen foe for a moment with a look of mock pity on his face.

I looked over at Kaven Urkalia, who was suddenly quite pale, and I couldn’t help but feel the man’s pain. Pryzius would not be happy with his failure, but just a few moments earlier, I had been the one contemplating life after the death of my own Champion.