Opening Moves (The Lion Knight Book 1)

by Aurelius L. Zero

  One of the mercenaries with more bravado than brains decided to challenge Leon’s claim.

  “Our protection? Our protection? HA! I do not fear your little magic tricks boy. There’s twenty of us and only one of you.”

  Shaking his great sword in one hand, the brute of a man continued his jeers and taunts.

  “I am the best swordsman on the continent and no puny magician will best me. Why don’t you come down here and we’ll teach you what we do to little boys who lie to the Iron Wolves and won’t shu-”

  A shard of wood rocketed out of the shadows, scoring a direct hit on the man’s helm and knocking him to the ground.

  Stunned, he simply stared in the direction the shard came from.

  “You talk too much and your blade… it’s crying.”

  Geahart stepped from the darkness and into the dwindling light.

  Shadows dancing over his form, he resembled a dread knight from the legends more than he did the noble warrior he was supposed to be.

  “EH? Who the hell are you, what are you talking abou- no you. YOU! You threw a stick at me! I will gut you for that.”

  The mentally challenged individual roared at Geahart before ungracefully rising to his feet using his sword as a crutch.

  “I will handle this insolent fool.”

  “Hehe, suit yourself. Plenty more where he came from.”

  “Don’t ignore me you bastards! How dare you treat the great Merrick like this! I will-”

  “You will do nothing worm.” Turning a dispassionate gaze at the man Geahart began tearing into him verbally.

  “You dare to call yourself the strongest swordsman on the continent? Don’t make me laugh.”

  Face purpling from rage and the rapidly swelling bruise, Merrick tried to retort but was rapidly shot down. “How dare-”

  “Weaklings like you should know their places. Quit your barking dog, it was entertaining at first but now it’s just plain annoying. And for once, I agree with sword nut over here.”

  “Tch.”

  “Ehhehheh, even from where I’m standing I can clearly see that your sword is covered in dings and scratches. Someone like you a swordsman? Hilarious! You can’t even maintain your blade properly.”

  “Hmmph. You aren’t even fit to lick the boots of the lowest of the low, let alone pass yourself off as one of them.”

  “How dare you mock me! I will crush yooou!”

  The other mercenaries just stood by and watched on in horrified fascination. To them it was akin to watching a slow motion train wreck, they just couldn’t look away or do anything to stop it.

  “I have had enough of this farce.”

  Sprinting towards the berserk man, Geahart drew his blade and slashed in a single motion. A flash of silver and the whistle of air being cut marked the swords passing.

  A resounding crack echoed through the forest clearing.

  Merrick staggered back as his hands shook. His eyes wide and unfocused as he stared at the broken remnants of his great sword.

  Geahart’s blade had struck at one of the many notches on it, and he had struck true.

  The sword had been cleanly cut through near the base, leaving him holding a lump of useless metal.

  Dead weight with an emphasis on dead.

  For the first time fear filled his eyes as he stared into the soulless ones of his opponent.

  All he saw was that a spectre of death was standing before him, here to exact retribution for all the wrongs he had committed.

  “No no, no no no! Stay, stay away from me you monster!”

  A small pain ran through Leon’s heart at the man’s exclamation, threatening to bring up unwanted painful memories of the past.

  He ruthlessly suppressed them though his hands were trembling ever so slightly.

  “Hmmph, your blood isn’t fit to stain my blade.”

  With a flourish, Geahart flipped his sword and held it by the blade pommel facing his cowering opponent.

  Gauntlets tightening around the blade, he swung with every bit of force afforded to him, landing a solid strike on his opponent’s right arm.

  As the blow carried through, the pommel struck against Merrick’s chest as well.

  With a small gasp, the brute fell to the ground, unconscious from the pain even before he struck dirt.

  Shards of bone could be seen sticking out from his arm where the blow had completely shattered everything.

  Without a way to regenerate lost limbs, his arm was a lost cause.

  The sight of another one of their own crumpling to the floor shook the remaining Iron Wolves out of their reverie.

  With a chorus of battle cries, they charged the demon knight and the insane mage, seeking to overcome their opposition through sheer force of numbers alone.

  “Such foolishness. I can be one or one thousand. Numbers mean nothing to me.”

  With a confident boast, Leon launched a bolt of lightning from his fingertips, blasting another hapless mercenary into a tree and shocking him unconscious in the process.

  Gathering almost all of the flux remaining in him for a single spell, Leon weaved another one of his favourite moves.

  Mixing his earlier mirage spell with a lightning one, he created seven floating orbs of lightning encased in an illusion.

  To the rest of the world, seven copies of him had appeared out of thin air and where there was one madman now stood eight. All of them bearing an insane grin.

  With a large wave of his hand, Leon sent the illusion encased lightning balls charging towards the oncoming mob.

  Despite being shaken up by the attacking clones the mercenaries continued to charge to their very painful oblivion.

  The two small forces clashed.

  It was explosive. It was painful. And it was spectacular.

  The instant one of the copies made contact with one of the mercenaries, they would explode into a blinding discharge of electricity.

  Screams and confused shrieks filled the air as the mercenaries were caught off guard. Leon watched on in grim satisfaction as nine of the remaining fifteen crumpled from his onslaught.

  A further three were taken out by some of the leftover traps he set earlier.

  Hiding his exhaustion from his enemies, he directed his puppet to engage the remaining three.

  Geahart leapt in front of his opponents and struck with a blinding flurry of sword strikes with barely a sound.

  The hopeful faces of the Iron Wolves fell rapidly as their initial hopes of crushing the blue clad warrior by overwhelming him with attacks from three different people were shattered completely.

  Dull clangs echoed around the place as Geahart attacked and parried with unerring accuracy.

  No matter what the mercenaries tried they could do absolutely nothing to stop the blade demon from making fools out of them.

  Dancing between the strikes of his inferiors, Geahart was completely untouchable, not a single hit managed to scratch him.

  A frown began to grow on his face as the conflict wore on for a few minutes.

  “Is this the best you’ve got? I grow tired of this foolishness.”

  Deciding to end the battle in that instant, Geahart spun on the balls of his feet, striking in a full circle. Three yelps came from the mercenaries as they backed off in terror.

  All three had been disarmed in a single move. Hands empty, they stared at Geahart in apprehension, very aware of the fact that they were completely defenceless now against an armed opponent who clearly outclassed them.

  “Me-mercy good sir. We, we were just following orders.”

  “Ye-yeah, we weren’t going to hurt nobody. Honest!”

  “I-it was our captain. He’s the one who wants to capture the girl, we don’t even know who she is.”

  “Hmmph. Have you no honour? You would sell out your own commander for this? I should kill you where you stand for that.”

  A small gasp came from Noire as she heard that comment. Turning to her, Leon spoke in an undertone too low to be heard by the
mercenaries.

  “Relax milady, this is all part of the act, we need to strike fear in them, this way they won’t try anything like this again. Hopefully.”

  “I, I see. Very well then good squire do continue.”

  “Mercy milord mercy!” The three men were now on their knees begging for their lives, tears streaming down their faces.

  “Tch, insufferable insects. No matter, I happen to be in a rather forgiving mood today. Your comrades are still alive take them and go. If you ever stand against us again, I will not show mercy twice.”

  “Thank you milord. Thank you. We won’t bother you again. Thank you.”

  As the men rushed to recover their fallen, the trio left the clearing, heading for the forest edge with Valor still in the sky shadowing them.

  Once out of sight, Leon let out a sigh and staggered slightly with Noire reacting in time and supporting him, preventing him from keeling over.

  “Good squire, are you okay?”

  Her concerned voice drew Leon out of his thoughts.

  “I am fine milady, sorry for worrying you. Using so much magic takes its toll on me after a while. I will be fine after some rest back at the inn.”

  “O-okay then, if you’re sure…”

  The still worried Noire followed slightly behind Leon, ready to catch him in case he threatened to fall over again.

  Fortunately for them, they managed to exit the Umbra Forest without any further incident.

  Emerging out into the sunlight, Leon and Noire both heaved a sigh of relief, more than a little glad to be out of the shadows and in the embrace of the sun once again.

  SCREEEEEEEEE

  “Valor says the town of Albri is just another hour’s journey from this point. We’re nearly there.”

  Noire was ecstatic at Valor’s news, the prospect of a good meal and rest away from any threats washing away her tenseness from her stay in the forest.

  Despite her upbeat mood, she still kept an eye on Leon, more than a little worried about his sudden weakness.

  Leon’s face was still too pale in Noire’s opinion.

  If he can just hold on a bit more, Squire Leon will be able to get some rest. I hope he’s alright.

  Sir Geahart hasn’t said anything so maybe this is normal. But still… I can’t just not worry like that. I’ll watch him for now, if he needs help I’ll give it to him.

  With her resolve set, Noire never once let her eyes roam from Leon’s back. Choosing not to say anything just yet, she allowed the party to continue their journey in silence.

  A squire with the ability to use magic of the likes I’ve never seen before, even during my time at the academy.

  And… there’s something about him… have I met him before?

  He feels so familiar to me.

  It’s like a half-forgotten dream, it’s there but I can’t seem to grasp it.

  Just who are you really Leon, and why do I feel this way?

  -*-

  Finally crossing another hill, they were greeted with an endless expanse of golden wheat fields and the very welcome sight of Albri’s walls.

  “Ahhhh! Is that?”

  “Yes milady, that is Albri, our place of residence for the next few days at least.”

  Leon gave a small smile as he saw Noire acting like a young girl seeing the world for the first time instead of a noble cursed by political intrigue, a large smile lighting up her face and bright laughter leaving her lips.

  Like I thought, a smile suits her best, I will ensure that she will be able to smile for a long time yet… even if it kills me.

  Well Lady Noire, welcome to Albri. It may have been my puppet who said it but the vow holds true nonetheless.

  As your sword and shield I will protect you from all who would do you harm and strike down your enemies.

  And then you won’t have to cry again. I swear it.

  Chapter 3: A New Mission

  “You have failed me.”

  A voice brimming with barely contained anger caused the battle hardened men surrounding the speaker to tremble in fear. None more so then the ten souls clasped in chains before him.

  “I sent the twenty of you after one girl.” Face morphing into a vicious snarl, the speaker continued to berate the men.

  “And you return empty handed. Beaten by a lowly mage and a wannabe knight.”

  “Si-sir that was becau-”

  “SILENCE!” The sound of striking flesh resounded through the room. With a swing of an armoured arm, the poor soul was sent flying by the mighty blow to his cheek.

  “Impertinent fool! I care not for your excuses.”

  Polished silver armour reflected what little light there was in the room. A knight stood with his arm still stretched out from his backhand.

  He was of average height and sported a face that would be considered by many to be dashing. With blond hair that reached his shoulders and piercing blue eyes, there was no doubt that some amount of noble blood ran through his veins.

  There was however, nothing noble about his current disposition.

  Face warped by terrible rage and eyes burning with hate, the men surrounding him were equal parts sorry for those in chains and glad that they weren’t the target of his wrath.

  “You lot are a disgrace to the Iron Wolves. I am commander now, and I will not end up like that fool Fareux. Maybe I should send you to that overweight idiot to explain your failure.”

  Faces paling in horror, the condemned men began babbling, each begging for mercy.

  All present knew of their employer’s penchant for cruel and unusual executions for anyone who failed him.

  A cruel smirk slid across the knight’s face at the sorry sight before him.

  “We are wolves, we prey on the weak and you have disappointed me greatly. Running in terror from weaklings, you are no wolves. Fortunately for you, turning you over like that serves no purpose.”

  A chorus of relieved sighs met his proclamation. The chained men clearly believing that they were being given a second chance.

  That hope was quickly dashed as they saw the grin on their captain’s face grow wider.

  Malice was saturating the air around him and his heart filled with dark glee as he saw the men’s hope rise only to be shattered.

  Inflicting pain on others as was his god given right put a smile on his face like nothing else.

  “Weren’t you idiots listening? You are sheep. And we, are the Iron Wolves. Wolves do no consort with sheep. We eat them.”

  Eyes lighting up with an evil glint the knight began to circle his prey, relishing in their crestfallen expressions.

  Turning to one of his men, he asked a simple but devastating question. “These sheep. They have bounties on their heads do they not?”

  “Yes sir”

  “Excellent. Dispose of them.”

  Turning his back on the damned he marched towards the door.

  “One of you turn them in at the nearest bounty station. No sense in wasting good money.”

  Savouring the cries and pleas for mercy, he stayed just long enough for the sound of steel and blood spraying to silence the cries before walking out the door. A sadistic smile present every step of the way.

  Out in the corridor, he was joined by his lieutenant.

  “Sir Allant, was it a good idea to execute the men like that? Morale among the men is low enough as it is. At this rate we might have more deserters plaguing us.”

  “Ay, you worry too much Denzel. The Iron wolves have over four hundred men, the loss of twenty means nothing. Besides with the money from their bounties I’ll be able to buy meself some of that legendary Aulstein wine from the empire. I hear one bottle is going for around ten grand right now.”

  “I… I see. Sir what about food for the men? They are beginning to complain about being fed the same combat rations for weeks at a time. And what about the wounded who are still in the medical wing?”

  “Those ingrates are complaining about food again? Hmmph, they should be grateful I’m was
ting money feeding them instead of having them catch their own meal. Whatever, the combat rations stay. They’ll eat that slop as punishment for their continuous failures. Now the wounded, what about them again?”

  “Of the twenty men who made contact with the enemy”

  “Enemy? That's giving them far too much credit don’t you think? It’s just one boy with a few parlour tricks and a fool playing with swords. They’re minor annoyances at best.”

  “As you say sir, of the twenty, the ten men who made it back intact have just been dealt with. Of the other ten, seven were claimed by the Umbra forest on their way out. The remaining three were badly wounded and are in the medical centre receiving treatment at the moment.”

  Allant stopped in his tracks at that. Face contorting in anger once more, his earlier mirth had vanished as quickly as it had come. Turning to face Denzel, he began speaking in a low tone.

  “What, do you mean, they are receiving treatment?”

  “Uh sir? They were wounded so the medics are patching them up?”

  “I see, okay then.” Scowl vanishing behind a smile out of the blue. All his earlier hostility had disappeared. Denzel was wary at this, sudden shifts in demeanour never meant anything good.

  “Denzel. I want you to head to the medical centre now and inform them that treatment is to be stopped immediately?

  “SIR?”

  “We will not be wasting precious medicine on failures. Go check if any of them have bounties worth cashing. If they do then they get the same treatment of the earlier buffoons. And if they don’t… well just throw them by the roadside. If they live, they live, if they die, well they were worthless to begin with. Water of a dead duck’s back.”

  “I… I…” Struck dumb by the callousness of his commander, Denzel was momentarily at a loss for words. Eventually he managed to acknowledge the order with resignation.

  “Your will be done sir.”

  Turning on his heel, he walked away, unable to stomach being in the presence of such a monster any further.

  It was too late for the ten men earlier but there was still time to save the remaining three. And by the lord he would do everything is his power to save their lives. Biting back a curse, Denzel set off to save his men.