So far this fight had been nothing but an intimate lesson in pain as Daylen went from losing in one way to losing in another.
He dragged himself to his feet to see Lyrah walking slowly toward him, her breastplate back in place.
He pulled Imperious through the link to his hand.
“There’s no chance you can win,” she said.
“Yeah,” Daylen puffed, “I’m starting to see that.”
“Then stop fighting and die.”
“I…I can’t. Trust me, I want to. I’ve wanted to for years.”
“Then I’ll grant you your wish.”
Daylen hoped so, for there was no way he could see himself winning. Lyrah was just too strong, and he was all out of ideas.
She attacked, and Daylen was grateful that she wasn’t relenting, for given enough time to think and plan, he could always come up with a new idea or strategy to grasp victory from even the most hopeless situations… Time to think.
Damn myself, he thought, realizing exactly what he could do.
Hating himself, Daylen jumped back to get a second’s pause, where he channeled each bond of light to his intelligence, thinking of any possible way to win.
He had not thought to do this before because he had been so focused on those attributes that directly affected combat like speed and mass, but his intelligence was a part of his body as all his other attributes he could enhance, so there was no reason he could see it wouldn’t work.
In an instant everything became clear: new ways he could use his powers sprung in his mind with a succession of inspirational thoughts. He instantly knew how Lyrah could be so strong with only three bonds, and why his resistance was so much greater when combining both mass and fortitude, and there was one use of his powers that would be the most significant of all. It was a strange use, one that he might never have thought of—maybe no one ever had—but now he could see it clearly and just like it was with his intelligence, there should be no reason why it wouldn’t work.
His second was up and Lyrah reached him.
Daylen switched his bonds, bracing himself for the huge headache from channeling light through his intelligence, to channel three bonds into his skill with the sword, and the last to his speed.
Surely enough his head burst with pain but Daylen gritted his teeth and pushed through it, ready to unleash the full force of this different type of bond.
Sword skill effectively plateaued when one became a Grand High Master and any small increase usually took years of additional training, but suddenly Daylen was eight times as skilled as his natural ability with the speed to match.
Daylen was already one of the most skilled swordsmen in the world, but now…he was absolutely incredible.
When a man got to the skill level Daylen had, swordplay was more a matter of reading your opponent and accurately predicting how they would attack. Now, with his skill enhanced so much, he knew every single way Lyrah would attack seemingly before she did.
Lyrah struck at him but Daylen dodged them all without even trying. Lyrah surged her speed to get the drop on him like she had twice before, but he predicted it perfectly and was already out of the way.
This fight had suddenly become more trivial than he could express.
“What!” Lyrah said as her attacks hit nothing but air. “How are you doing this?”
“I wonder if even the great Archknights have figured out what I just have,” Daylen said, dodging Lyrah’s last attacks and spinning around here to place his sword tip on her shoulder.
Lyrah screamed in rage and lashed out with her sword, but she could do nothing. It was as if Daylen had precognition.
“It’s over now, Lyrah. You can’t win.”
“All you’ve done is figure out a way to increase your reflexes more. What are you doing, surging?” she asked, and then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter; once I touch you, you’re dead.”
That wasn’t going to happen.
Daylen moved around Lyrah’s attack with ease and pushed the tip of his sword through the armpit under her armor.
Lyrah screamed in pain and swung, but hit nothing as Daylen put his sword through the gap at the back of her leg and sliced tendons.
She fell to a knee and swung vainly, Daylen stepping out of range. She fell onto her arms, panting.
“I’d never kill you, Lyrah, but stop now before I injure you so much that it’ll take a fall for you to heal with your single bond.”
“Damn you,” she said, weeping. “Damn you.”
Daylen took that moment to channel light and heal his aching head but this time the pain only halved.
Feet tapped on the brick ground to Daylen’s left. He looked to see Ahrek having landed nearby.
Daylen stepped away from Lyrah.
Ahrek walked to her side.
“I’m fine,” she said to him. “I’ll be healed in a minute.”
Lyrah forced herself to her feet.
“You can’t beat me, not even the both of you, not with what I’ve learned.”
Ahrek was glaring at him before eventually letting his head sag. He sighed and then looked to the sky.
His eyes narrowed and his face became concerned as he noticed something.
Daylen turned to face the same direction and see what it was.
There was a sphere of shadow in the distance slowly moving toward the city—and it was exactly where Hamenday Island should have been.
“No,” Daylen whispered.
“The Shade,” Ahrek said, his eyes locked on the approaching horror.
Chapter Forty-Five
Do not fault those soldiers who remained loyal to me, for I treated them well. They did not experience what caused most people to rebel; and remember that most of my men deserted to join the rebels, anyway.
Countless skyships flew in from all nations with numberless rebels and every Archknight in their Order, and they laid siege to Highdawn. What followed was the largest battle in the history of Tellos. It went on for falls with endless engagements, withdrawals, redeployments, feints, flanking, and more engagements. I later learned that it was Rayaten who was commanding the attacking forces, which made sense, for only a master tactician like he could have matched me at every turn.
* * *
Lyrah looked to Daylen and then back at the moving shadow. She bared her teeth in frustration and finally screamed in anger, her sword and armor flashing back inside her body.
“I can’t stay,” she said softly to Ahrek. “If the Dawnists are willing to use the Shade, then they’ve just become an even greater threat. My brothers need help.”
“Go,” Ahrek said, not even bothering to lower his voice. “I’ll see to the Conqueror.”
“How? He’s doing something with his powers that make him untouchable. It’s like he can predict the future.”
“I’ll figure something out. This must end.”
“Fine,” Lyrah said. “His powers can’t last much longer. Just be careful.”
Lyrah walked a distance, shooting Daylen one last glare of hatred before reluctantly leaping away.
Daylen and Ahrek stood alone, facing each other. “I’ve beaten you already, Ahrek, and that was before I learned this new trick. You can’t kill me.”
“Yes, it’s clear your powers are greater.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
Ahrek summoned a single sword from his powers and pointed it at Daylen. “Dayless the Conqueror, I challenge you to a legal duel. No powers, one sword each, and to the death.”
Yes. That was the right answer, poetic even. A true and fair fight between two Grand High Masters. The Light would have to accept that, even if Daylen didn’t use his powers to heal.
It would be a proper duel to the death.
Daylen slowly nodded. “You’re wise, Ahrek. I could think of no better way to settle things between us. I accept.”
Ahrek took his sword stance.
Daylen pulled off his gauntlet and dropped it to the ground. He raised Imperious
, ready to fight.
They circled one another, gauging and planning.
Ahrek’s eyes were firm and unwavering, hatred and determination on his face.
They attacked—two of the greatest swordsmen in the world in a fight to the death.
Their swords chimed as they clashed, parrying, thrusting, striking, seeking leverage in the bind, throwing feints and counters. Daylen had to bring every technique he knew to bear, and Ahrek was clearly doing the same.
The intensity of this fight was a step higher than their first duel. That time seemed so long ago, but in truth it was only several falls past. So much had changed.
Daylen feinted and struck; Ahrek pulled back, countered and thrust.
Why had the Light sent Ahrek to him? Was it really to see Daylen killed? If so, why hadn’t it let him die when he had thrown himself from the world?
Ahrek blocked with a riposte, pushed, leaned into a low duck to lunge and struck at Daylen’s legs. Daylen jumped and flipped over Ahrek, spinning his sword down mid jump, but Ahrek rolled to the side and brought his sword back for another attack.
There was more between them than revenge and hatred, for even after everything that had transpired that fall, Daylen still saw Ahrek as his friend.
Daylen attacked and swung his sword around for a series of aggressive forward thrusts, parrying Ahrek’s counters at the same time. Ahrek parried each one with perfect precision before eventually pulling off a counter that halted Daylen’s advance.
If he was to die now, what had it all been for? What did the Light really want from him? To see him suffer from a prolonged life, or to die at the hands of those he had wronged?
Counter and riposte, riposte and counter—back and forth they danced the deadliest dance in the world.
Ahrek performed a perfect series of interchanging attacks which Daylen deflected and countered with his own.
Ahrek defended himself with true mastery and risked a very aggressive advance with three deadly strikes followed by a thrust. Daylen deflected the first three strikes, losing ground each time, and attempted to counter the last attack with a dodge and thrust of his own.
And then it was over.
Ahrek had predicted the counter and was able to sidestep Daylen’s blade moving in, preforming the exact maneuver Daylen had attempted. The blades flew past each other and ended pointing in opposite directions, Imperious having been thrust under Ahrek’s sword arm striking nothing but air, Ahrek’s blade finding its mark, running Daylen through to the hilt.
Daylen fell to his knees with a gasp.
Had Daylen been too tired from his constant fighting that fall? Was his heart just not in it? Or was Ahrek simply the better swordsman?
It didn’t matter. Ahrek had won.
The Bringer pulled his sword out and stepped back. Daylen held a hand over his stomach, but it did little to stop the flow of blood.
His bonds instinctively tried to heal the wound, but he stopped them.
“You did it,” he said groggily. “Well done,” he added, and then fell onto his back.
Ahrek walked to stand over Daylen. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long. Even when I thought you dead, I regretted that I hadn’t done it with my own hands.”
“And now you have,” Daylen said softly as blood pooled under him. “Enjoy it.”
Ahrek pulled his sword back to finish it, but then Daylen spoke, interrupting him. “You know, we’re the same you and I.”
Ahrek paused. “I’m nothing like you!” he said, enraged.
Daylen laughed bitterly. Even at the end, he couldn’t resist aggravating the man. “Really? Because looking at you right now, I see myself as I had been right before I killed the old Queen. Both of our families were murdered by those in power, and we both did everything we could to destroy them for it,” Daylen continued with a twisted smile, “eventually leading a rebellion that would overthrow that government.”
“But after that, you became a monster,” Ahrek snarled, “and I embraced a life of service to atone for those I killed.”
“A much better choice, true—but look at you now! Tell me, after you thought I was dead, did it really change anything? Did it make you happy?”
Ahrek’s bared his teeth and pulled his sword back to end Daylen, but his sword did not fall.
“That’s what I thought,” Daylen said, looking into Ahrek’s now uncertain eyes. “I’ve been through it too, remember? As good as it will feel to kill me now, you know that soon after you’ll feel as bitter and miserable as before. There’ll be momentary relief, but it won’t last. Your family will still be dead and killing me won’t bring them back. You’ll still hate me as much as you ever did—only now there’ll be nothing for your hate to be inflicted on. I can see how serving others would help, but you can’t tell me you haven’t been carrying a deep and seething hatred for me through all these years.”
Tears came to Ahrek’s eyes as he hissed, “It has been eating me alive! I thought befriending his son would finally see it gone, but it only made my hate resurface, and then I find out who you really are…” He screamed. “I just want it to end! I WANT TO BE RID OF YOU FOREVER!”
“There’s no end,” Daylen said, his head moving sluggishly from side to side. “After eighty-two years of life, I know. I still despise the aristocracy, you know, and would kill them all over again if I could. Who wouldn’t hate those responsible for killing their loved ones? It’s our right.” He nodded, his eyes wide with desire. “Do it. Do what you have to do…and find what little relief there is in it.”
Ahrek was silent for a time, raising his sword to strike only to stop and let it slowly fall several times. He struggled with himself, before turning away to pace back and forth.
Daylen knew his struggle. Ahrek wanted to be free of his pain, but killing him wouldn’t lead to such a release. Ahrek would still kill him, of course, and there was momentary satisfaction in revenge. Daylen knew it; Ahrek deserved it. He needed it.
Daylen gazed at the sky, the faint blurry image of the continent high above, still able to make out Ahrek in his periphery.
Ahrek looked to the sky and sighed. “There is a way to be free of this,” he said with his back to Daylen.
“Really?” Daylen said as he choked on blood. “Well, you would be the first to know.”
Ahrek turned to him. “No… Not the first.”
Daylen’s vision had blurred. “Then what is it?”
Ahrek didn’t answer right away, but his whole frame shook as he wept. Eventually he heaved one last sob and said, “I forgive you.”
Daylen looked to Ahrek in true disbelief. He could not have heard what he just did. Tears came unbidden to his eyes as he tried to make sense of those incredible, impossible words. “Wh… What?”
“Daylen Namaran, Dayless the Conqueror…I forgive you.”
“You… You do?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
More tears came to the Bringer’s eyes as he shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it impossible. I even thought I was lying when I spoke the words, but as I did, it became true. Dayless… I feel no hate for you anymore. I truly do forgive you.”
Such a thing was more amazing than Daylen ever thought possible, and he burst out crying, looking back to the sky in wonder.
Ahrek approached and held out a hand to Daylen.
Daylen hesitantly raised his hand, not sure to trust his own perception of reality.
As their hands grasped, Daylen felt light envelop him. His body seemed to sing in praise as all his pains left. He gasped at the sensation.
Looking to his body, Daylen realized what had happened.
Ahrek had healed him.
The Bringer then pulled Daylen to his feet, where Daylen fell into the man’s arms, crying with more passion, relief, and gratitude then he ever had before.
Chapter Forty-Six
In disbelief, I saw there was no way to win. I was defeated. And so I fled, escaping Highdawn as the rebels took the p
alace.
Amazingly I felt like the fallen hero at that time, the true and just ruler of the empire betrayed by his own people.
I hated them for that, and swore revenge on everyone who dared oppose me.
I would return and kill them all.
* * *
Daylen didn’t know how long he stood there, crying into Ahrek’s chest. After all that Daylen had done, especially to Ahrek, he never, not once, thought he would ever hear those words.
It was amazing, impossible, but it had happened, and all he could do was weep in gratitude and relief. It was like a terrible weight had been lifted from him, and for the first time in twenty years, his guilt was actually lighter.
After a time, his tears eventually dried and Ahrek took him by the shoulders. “The island is getting close. You need to go and see what’s happened.”
Yes, he was right. Daylen would wonder at the miracle that had just transpired for the rest of his life, but for now, there was a city to try and save.
Daylen wiped away his tears. “No, we need to go.”
Ahrek shook his head. “I would, but my channeling ability is exhausted.”
“I don’t have much left, either… No, wait. I can feel them. They’re back at full strength!”
“My healing,” Ahrek said.
“It replenishes power too?”
“It heals the body, and it’s your body’s ability to channel that was exhausted.”
He really has forgiven me, Daylen thought in wonder, the feelings of illation and relief distracting him. “Couldn’t you have just healed yourself first?” Daylen asked pulling his focus back to the present.
“Healing myself doesn’t replenish my channeling ability as it’s that very ability being used to do the healing. It’s like trying to repair something that’s being damaged at the same rate, achieving nothing. But another Bringer could do it.”
Daylen looked about at the empty city. “Yeah, I think we’d have trouble finding one. Black it, your powers would be useful right now.” Daylen turned to the ominous shadow in the sky. “The island will hit the city before I can reach it by jumping. We need a skyship, and a fast one at that.”
Shadow of the Conqueror Page 48
