by J. F. Holmes
“You can certainly try, but I will honor the ways if Lord Tavan does. If he cheats, then you must step aside. The same goes for Major Kincaid, if he breaks the rules, then Kavor will be obligated to step in.” He said calmly, but … there was a slight tremor in his voice. There was no frigging way that he had the power to take on an Elf mage. I mean, crap, his magic was little more than a trick, being able to see things.
In reply she bowed her head in acknowledgement, stepping back. “Let’s get on with it,” I stated flatly.
Tavan looked at my gear and laughed. “You … are no Legionnaire! You aren’t even worthy to polish their armor.”
“I read someplace that they handed you your ass. Gaius Julius Caesar left some notes and some other things.” I placed my left hand on the hilt of the gladius and felt a bolt of lightning shoot up through my arm. It begged me to draw it, to conquer, to kill.
Tavan spit on the ground at my feet and said, “We have come so much farther than you can dream, human.” If he recognized the blade, he said nothing, but I thought I sensed fear in his eyes. Lord knows I had seen it enough and felt it enough myself. Death was standing between us with his scythe, getting ready to choose.
He stepped forward and bowed, stating in a bit of a ritual chant, “I am Lord Tarn Tavan, ruler of the House Tavor. Right hand of the Winter King, one of the Five Thousand who made the long trek from this world to exile. I have fought for more than two thousand years against human, dwarf and orc, demons and dragons. My sword is Pain Bringer, forged from metal from the sky, and has slain thousands. Your soul will be my slave.”
Well than. I guess forms had to be obeyed. “I am David McLellan Kincaid, leader of a cohort of Delta, the elite military of the people of America. I am a commoner in a land of commoners who threw off nobility, and I have slain the lords and masters of evil. My sword was once carried by one who drove you from this land and it is named Agheu Glas, Grey Death. My shield is my faith in my country and my people.”
His son stepped forward and said, “Father, let me kill him, please! There is no honor in fighting this scum.” There was a pleading note in his voice and he glared at me.
I looked at the kid and smiled, then said to Tavan. “Send me the boy and he’ll join his sister in Hell. Maybe I’ll make him beg first, like she did.”
With a look of fury on his face Tavan moved like a striking cobra, the saber whipping out in a cross draw from the scabbard, similar to a Samurai. Instead of trying to back away and draw my own, I pivoted the shield around like Father Mike had shown me, ducking my head and shoving forward. His blade met the center boss with a CLANG and I hit him hard enough with the full weight to stagger him. If I had my sword out I could have hacked off his head.
Tavan stepped back, blade held level at me, a mad look in his eye as I retreated and drew the gladius. I glared at him over the top of the shield and he flicked his left arm. A glowing round circle appeared and formed a small buckler attached to his forearm. It solidified into a shiny metal disk that caught the rays of the sun.
“Marit,” called Father Mike, “the shield is a violation!”
“It is the way of our people and is better than carrying all the weight. It is no more magical than your champions’ shield.” She said it flatly, marking it as final and I guess Mike wasn’t going to argue the point.
I ignored them, watching Tavan’s’ shoulders over the top of my shield. He could do whatever he wanted with his hands, feet and eyes, whatever feints, but to actually make a strike at me that would be effective he would have to put his whole weight into it. His shoulders would telegraph it, like a Running Back changing direction mid field. My blade was hidden behind the shield, ready to come out the side or over the top, and we circled each other. More like he danced around me and I pivoted the shield to keep it between us. When he managed to catch the full light of the sun on his shield it flashed before my eyes, mirror bright. I ducked my head down and turned it to the side to feel his blade scrape across the Kevlar covering my neck. Crap he was fast and he darted away before I could bring the gladius into play.
We measured each other up for a bit then came together at a rush. My sword skittered across his shield and his blade danced, lighting fast, darting around the scotum and hacking at the outside of my thigh. To his surprise the Kevlar shrugged off the blade, though the force of the blow numbed my leg and he barely caught my return stroke on the basket hilt. His eyes narrowed as he thought of how next to attack me, taking in my moves so far, how I had kept the shield in front at all times, stabbing over the top or around the side.
Again I watched his shoulders, expecting a dance right or left to come around the shield again. Instead he smiled and drew the sword straight back over his shoulder, pointed directly at me. I watched for a wide swing or an overhead strike, intending to use the edge of my blade to meet his arm. Instead he drove it straight forward. I heard him mutter something, some kind of spell just the blade hit my shield and drove straight through it. The point slid into my stomach just beneath the edge of the vest then whipped back out, three inches of red on the end, and he danced away again. That cheating bastard was all I thought, though I could hear Father Mike shout in dismay.
“How long should I play with you, Kincaid?” he mocked. “Maybe after this I will sacrifice your woman to the spirit of my daughter. Send my son to have her fed to the Yrch.”
“Nunquam loqui stercore,” I replied and surged forward. It caught him off guard while he tried to puzzle out the words and my blade flashed out. It was almost as if it were pulling my arm towards him, a fierce scream of joy sounding in my mind. The point drove into his eye with all my weight behind it and I whipped the heavy blade sideway and up, hammering it back down on the mail that covered his neck. Rings of steel shattered and there was a dull chopping sound. Tavan staggered away, hitting at me with his shield and shoving me. “FUCK YES!” I screamed, then fell to my knees, dropping the sword from suddenly weak hands.
“Permission to fire!” I heard Shannon scream over my earpiece and I shook my head no, knowing that she could see me through her scope. That female elf would slaughter her. Instead I stood up, placing my hand over the gaping wound in my stomach, and staggered over to Tavan. He sat on the ground, hand clasped to his neck, dark blood running through his fingers. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kavor run towards me then a bright flash of light as Marit pointed a finger at him. The Elf froze in mid step, haloed in a white fire.
Sitting down next to Tavan, I felt the pain starting to spread like fire through my gut and I put my arm around his shoulders. He leaned into me, choking, and I said to him, “I lied, she died well, a warrior’s death. Your daughter will be waiting for you.”
With his last strength he grabbed my hand and squeezed, and I held it as the blackness overtook us both.
Epilogue
The first thing I saw when I awoke was Tor’s ugly face looming over me. “Are ye about done lying around, Major?” he asked me. The dwarf looked, if possible, years older, with even more grey in his beard.
“Water!” I managed to croak, and he gave me a sip, nothing more. My insides felt like they had been through a blender.
“Where … are … we?” I managed to ask.
“North Shore University Hospital,” said Father Mike from the other side of the bed. “Private room. You’re recovering from major surgery, missing a section of your intestines from what I understand. The Elves think you’re dead.”
“How …” I croaked again.
Tor slapped his knee or something. “They brought you to me on a boat, all kinds of things putting blood in as fast as it could go out. I used what’s left of me magic to keep you alive until the doctors here could do their jobs.”
“Thanks,” I managed, then, “More water.”
“Nah, lad, not till the doctors say so.”
“Shannon?” I asked.
A warm hand took mine and her voice said, kind of shaky, “I told you, don’t get killed.”
“No
promises …” and then the world faded out again.
When I woke it was dark, and I heard someone sobbing next to me. There was a silent TV glaring up on the wall, and I turned my head slightly to see Shannon’s face, tears streaming down. “What?” I managed, and she turned the sound on. I heard the voice of the President in mid-sentence.
“... to spare our people and our country further death and destruction, in my capacity as Commander in Chief, I have declared a ceasefire for all armed forces of the United States. Furthermore, I have directed the Secretary of State to open negotiations with the Council of Lords to determine our future as we move from this disastrous war to healing and peace.”
She shut it off. “We surrendered, David. It’s over.”
Despite the pain, I pulled her into my arms. Her tears felt hot and salty as they fell on my face and her skin burned. “No,” I whispered, “it’s just started.” Next to me on the bed my sword sang its song of power and glory.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Volume 2 of the Fae Wars, The Fall, will be available this summer. Please join our fan group, The Command Post, to stay up on developments. This story will follow the fighting retreat of the US Military through the Appalachians.
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