by Thomas Rath
Teek didn’t wait for another invitation as he pressed forward with his knife, his eyes like pinwheels of fire, as he let his fury completely take over his senses. Brak was quickly put on the defensive as he brought up his dagger, twisting away and then falling back just barely avoiding having his guts spilled out. Teek was a demon of rage and speed as his knife cut, parried, jabbed and then cut again.
Sweat broke out on Brak’s face and his eyes filled with fear at the realization that Teek was not the hopeless little boy he’d originally met and tormented. Turning Teek’s blade away as it cut into his ribs saved his life for a brief moment but he quickly realized that it was only a matter of seconds before Teek would land a solid hit and it would all be over.
Turning quickly, Brak showed the true coward that he was. Dropping his knife he tried to run away and escape the boy turned demon leaving him for Zadok’s minions to deal with, but Teek was too fast. “Wait!” Brak screamed in terror just as Teek’s blade punctured his side cutting deep into his lung and then pricking his heart.
Brak crumpled to the ground as Teek pulled out his dagger and landed on top of him. Brak tried to scream for mercy but his throat was suddenly full of blood letting out a slight gurgling as Teek, without hesitation brought his knife down one final time burying it into his chest. Brak’s body went slack, the horror of impending death permanently frozen on his face as his life quickly bled out of his perforated black heart.
Teek pulled his dagger preparing to stab again but caught the empty look in Brak’s eyes and with great effort restrained himself. Standing up, blood sticky wet on his hand, he stumbled over to the nearest wall and let himself slide down to the floor. Soon the fire that blindly raged through him subsided with his labored breaths and he was able to once again gain control of himself and survey the damage he’d done. Looking at Brak and seeing the pitiful creature he’d become, Teek turned to the side and threw up while great tears poured out of his soft brown eyes. He had never killed a person before and the thought that he had with such ease sickened him. He tried to remind himself that Brak would have done worse to him, but it still didn’t fill the void and emptiness he suddenly felt at ending another’s life. It wasn’t fair. All he’d ever wanted was…adventure. How many times had he heard the stories old Twee told about the adventures he’d had? And how many times had he wished that he could have some of his own? But in the stories, the killing had seemed so sterile and clean. No one got blood on them, or watched a person beg for their life before it was snuffed out.
He threw up again, emptying his stomach, and then the rage began to grow again; threatening to take over as it had with the roc, the dragon, and now Brak. He had not started this war. Neither had he hunted Brak down to kill him. It had been self-defense. He had not come looking for murder. The conflicting thoughts battled within his skull and he knew he could not fully justify either now. He allowed the anger to take hold knowing that the fight was not over and he would need it to carry on and fulfill his part. When it was all done he could mourn his choices or mourn the person he’d been forced to become. But right now, he needed the darkness that suddenly had become a part of him to guide his knife clutched hand and kill anything…or anyone that threatened him or his friends.
Forcing his legs to rise beneath him, he stood up, wiping the vomit from his mouth and smearing blood on his face as he turned down the hall and grabbed his pack and blow gun before going in search of the stairs that would take him up to Tchee. The battle had begun, and he was not about to turn aside now.
* * *
Jack led Dor and Erl as they climbed higher through one of the northeastern wings of the castle. Though the sounds of battle could still be heard in the distance, the group had yet to encounter any opposition. They did, however, pass scattered groups of dead as they ascended; a jumble of orcs, goblins and men mixed together leaving grim testimony of the battles that had been fought in the castle heights. Jack did not waste time with the fallen though, pushing them forward feeling certain that a bridge connected the tower they were currently in with one that stood more to the north. It was on this bridge that Jack felt Dor would have the greatest chance at finding a dragon for his heart arrow.
“It should be just up ahead,” Jack encouraged as he led them down another hallway that was somewhat indistinct from the many others they’d already passed through. Erl suddenly let out a low growl, his hackles rising along his back, his teeth revealed under his curtain of curling jowls.
Dor drew a sword, still preferring to fight with one blade while Jack and Erl took positions on either side of the hall in anticipation of an attack. The guttural sounds of anxious assailants echoed down the hallway as a group of orcs suddenly broke from an opening in the eastern wall not fifty paces from where they stood. Erl leapt to the front with one great bound ripping into the neck of the first fighter, taking him to the ground while, in a rush, Jack and Dor covered his flanks and met the enemy in battle.
Dor blocked the grisly axe his foe swung down and then grabbed his arm with his free ha•nd. Not to be outdone by the healers, he quickly made connection with the water in the orc’s body and called it out with a thought, leaving his enemy a desiccated shell while wetting the ground and himself in his fluids.
Jack gut another with his sword, the grim look on his face a mask of death incarnate as he advanced on the next one easily blocking its haphazard swing and then dispatching it to join its fallen comrades on the bloodied carpet. The remaining three turned tail and ran but not before Erl hamstrung one and then pounced on another biting into its neck and shoulder ending its life while taking it down to the floor. Dor ran the first one through and then hesitated in chasing the last when Jack placed a hand on his arm. “We’re here.”
Pointing to the wall the orcs had just come from, a narrow corridor climbed up a small flight of stairs to a heavy oak door that stood opened to the outside. Dor and Erl followed as Jack led them up the stone stairway and out to a large platform that narrowed and then stretched northward across a great divide to a huge tower on the other side. Not waiting for his companions, Jack raced out onto the bridge taking in the spectacular view while Dor strung his bow and retrieved his heart arrow. This was exactly the spot he needed to find and kill his prey. And since they had just met a pack of the enemy, it was almost certain that one of the dragons was using this very spot to drop members of Zadok’s army. All he needed to do now was wait for another to return.
Scanning the sky overhead, Dor stepped toward the bridge looking east in the direction of Zadok’s army and the tiny black dots that made up each individual enemy. Drawing his sights closer to the castle he watched in awe as the ground started to bulge and then grow into what must have been a massive creature that suddenly started sweeping its great arms and wiping away those that got in its path. He smiled, knowing that Thane was at work here and a sliver of hope rose in his chest that they might, after all they had been through and suffered, come out the victors after all.
Erl’s growl and Jack’s yell brought his attention back around to the bridge as Jack suddenly rushed toward the opposite tower, his sword raised as if prepared to do battle. As he turned to watch his friend racing away, he just caught the slight movement in the air to his left warning him of the approaching dragon as it closed in on his position on the bridge. Turning to face it, he knew he didn’t have time to take a shot and instead dove back to the platform as the dragon let out its terrible breath onto the stone where he’d been standing only seconds before. Erl rushed forward as if he meant to attack the dragon, or at least pass over onto the bridge and chase after Jack but he slid to a stop just as the rock where the dragon’s breath had touched suddenly melted away like butter in a hot skillet.
Erl whined helplessly as he backed away and paced along the platform watching Jack cross to the other tower alone and cut off by the great gap in the bridge.
Dor regained his footing and quickly stood, his arrow ready now as he watched the dragon make a quick bank to the north a
nd disappear behind the huge tower where Jack now stood. He thought he could see another person facing his friend, but the distance was too great to be certain and he couldn’t lend his concentration to be positive as he was convinced the dragon would certainly circle back around from the west for another attack.
Erl was beside himself, still pacing and whining when the dragon reappeared in the sky just where Dor knew he would be. Dor stepped out onto the remaining bridge, facing the great serpent that tucked in its great wings and gained speed closing the gap between them. Dor pulled back the arrow, taking careful aim while praying that the dragon preferred to eat him rather then blow him into nothing with its caustic breath.
The sound of steel meeting steel echoing off the far tower grated at his concentration while Erl’s constant whining threatened it as well. He could not afford to miss. The dragon grew quickly, only slim moments away as it continued to gain speed. Opening its mouth, Dor’s heart sank as he realized it was drawing air to spit its decaying breath out again. He felt himself suddenly calm as death’s presence settled his nerves into the still he’d grown accustomed to when it hovered about him with its promised finality. The sounds that had threatened to ruin his concentration only moments before were now erased with the slow beating of his heart. His mark became sure and focused as he pulled back on the string. The dragon took a deep breath in and paused only briefly. Dor knew that it was going dissolve him into nothing leaving only his memory as proof that he’d actually once existed, but he held his ground.
And at that very moment he released the string. The arrow shot forward and he watched as the first streams of decaying breath were gathering at the back of the dragon’s throat as the heart arrow sliced through the the dragon’s soft pallet and up into its brain. Its head was snapped back with incredible force sending a tiny amount of decaying breath into the air as the dragon flipped over, its massive weight and body colliding against the side of the castle tower before it dropped in a tumbling mass down into the fighting army below. A great boom sounded as it hit the ground crushing a multitude of combatants and sending dust and debris into the air all around its lifeless corpse.
Dor stood frozen where he was, death’s presence having gone and with it the calm he’d felt as he’d face down the dragon. Erl’s whine and the ringing of steel brought him out of his daze as he turned to see why Erl was so upset. Following the wolg’s gaze, he looked back over the ruined bridge where he saw Jack more clearly now, locked in combat with a man dressed all in black.
* * *
Jack didn’t hesitate as the man in black calmly walked forward, his sword at the ready. Though he’d not seen the man before, something was so familiar about him as to give Jack pause at first. But his resolve was not lessened any as it became obvious that the man was an enemy and had come prepared to fight.
Jack had spotted him almost immediately upon reaching the middle of the bridge and had originally thought him one of the commanders from the city. But as he approached his goatee covered chin curled up with his wicked smile as he pulled his sword in ready. Knowing a challenge when he saw one, Jack did the same though sorry that he couldn’t at least find out who he was first and why he’d chosen to fight against his own. What sort of promises had Zadok made to win him over?
“And you must be Jack, the great and fearsome king,” the man spat at him as he closed the distance between them.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” Jack responded, “since it’s obvious that my reputation precedes me while yours is yet to be spoken.”
The man sneered at the obvious insult but did not let it fluster him. “Today you will learn of my reputation, old man, when you beg for me to finish your life more quickly.”
Jack raised his sword in ready. “And whose name should I use when I am supposed to do this begging you speak of?”
“You may call me Resdin,” he said with a mocking bow.
“Then I will be certain they chisel it upon your gravestone.”
Resdin lunged forward with incredible speed that might have caught any other man off guard, but Jack had dealt with creatures more sinister than this boy had ever dreamed of. Blocking the thrust easily, he reversed his motion, catching Resdin’s shirt and leaving a nice gashed in it across the chest. Stepping back, Resdin surveyed the damage that had only occurred to the linen leaving his skin unmarked. “You’ll need to dig deeper old man if you expect to do more than ruin my clothing.”
Jack didn’t rise to the baiting but instead moved slowly forward with easy thrusts and jabs feeling out the boy’s strengths and weaknesses without committing himself too far or using up too much energy. He would not be drawn into an all out brawl knowing that their differences in age would then most certainly put the fight in Resdin’s favor.
Resdin moved forward and back with athletic ease as if taunting his opponent. Sometimes he left gapping holes in his defenses inviting Jack in so that he could quickly block and then score a hit, but Jack was not so easily baited or fooled. Resdin felt his ire grow at the insolence this old man dare show him in battle. Boring quickly to the juvenile clanging of swords that seemed to be his opponent’s only ability, Resdin began to press his advantage trading caution for a quick end so as to be free to satiate his lust for blood on the levels below.
Jack matched the increase in tempo and daring, turning away Resdin’s attacks while mounting an offensive of his own. As the battle became increasingly more intense, Jack could not shake the feeling that he knew his opponent from somewhere, that they had a connection some how. It did not thrill him to be fighting someone of his own race in such a battle as they had found themselves. It was one thing to kill off trolls and orcs and others of the evil races, but his heart was heavy thinking that he would be forced to end the life of a young man who might have a spark of good left in him.
Resdin feigned a jab to Jack’s chest and then crossed his arm around cutting for his midsection. Distracted, Jack barely corrected his defense in time so that Resdin’s blade sliced through his shirt barely nicking his skin. Resdin felt the slight pressure of connecting with flesh and smiled wickedly, feeling certain that the old man must be tiring and that his victory was sealed.
“You grow tired, aged one,” Resdin teased, blocking Jack’s over the top swing and flicking it back before turning to thrust with his own weapon. Jack was forced back a step to avoid being skewered while his mind still wrestled with Resdin’s face in a bout to gain recognition.
“Ah,” he retorted, “the foolishness of youth. They fight when they should talk and they talk when they should fight.” Pretending to stumble, he easily turned away Resdin’s thrust and then countered back with a slash of his own across the young man’s belly. Resdin gasped as he stepped back, placing a hand over the cut that was seeping blood into the tops of his trousers.
Glaring back at Jack, he stepped away, while swinging his sword in a complicated pattern and then steadied himself. “Enough of this child’s play,” he spat. “We end this now.”
Not waiting for Jack’s reply, Resdin pressed forward in a full frontal attack that quickly left both of them with nicks and cuts all along their chests, arms, and legs. Both were soon breathing hard, their attacks becoming slower as the battle continued to wage on without a victor. Sweat beaded and then flew off of their bodies as they continued to press and retreat in a dissonance of steel banging steel.
With each passing moment, Jack felt that the mystery that was Resdin was coming closer to being solved, but his mind still could not wrap around the feeling that cried out in recognition of the man. And he was tiring. Never in his years of battle in the Shadow Mountains had he ever tired in a fight against even three trolls but suddenly he felt his energy diminishing and he feared that soon he would not be quick enough to turn away Resdin’s attacks. With the skill the boy manifested, any little mistake would certainly prove to be his doom. He had to end this now.
Resdin shot forward with a thrust that he intended to turn back using Jack’s blo
ck and then slice him through the middle, but Jack didn’t block him as he’d expected. Stepping to his right, Jack allowed the blade to slice superficially across his left side while he brought his own blade around in a chopping motion into Resdin’s ribs cutting him deep.
It was at that very moment, as they faced each other and Resdin’s eyes widened in utter shock that Jack saw the strange little diamond shaped birthmark on Resdin’s exposed shoulder finally connecting the last puzzle piece. “Cole!” he shouted as he pulled away from his son, drawing out his blade with a sickening smack allowing gouts of blood to pour out from the wound. Both Resdin and Jack dropped their swords as Jack rushed forward to catch his boy as he toppled to the ground, his hand trying desperately to stem the tide of blood.
“Oh, my boy,” Jack cried out. “What have I done?” Smoothing back his dark hair he looked into the shocked face of his long lost son who so obviously favored his mother’s features and for whom he had given up his thrown to waste away his life as a hermit chasing down the memory of his boy. And now, in a twisted game played by the gods his boy was to die at his own hand; the hand that cradled him as a baby; the hand that would forever be stained with his blood.
Resdin stared up at him, the shock at having been beaten by an old man more disturbing to him than the sudden babbling he took on as he sobbed over him. But Resdin was not without life yet. It was not over until the last breath was released. Seeing that his killer was now over occupied with a sudden attempt to save his ebbing life, he didn’t notice as Resdin reached for the dagger at his waist. Drawing it slowly, he pressed it easily between the old man’s ribs as he leaned forward, bathing Resdin with his tears.
