Opening Moves (The Lion Knight Book 1)

by Aurelius L. Zero

  Charla- I take offense to that!

  Leon’s face developed a slight twitch at Allant’s insinuation. His fingers twitched and it took a truly massive amount of willpower not to blast the smug smile of the man’s face.

  Still, who the hell tipped them off? I wasn’t aware we were being spied on. That is… disturbing.

  “I see, than as a gesture of good will, will you not tell me what my uncle intends? I won’t run away again, that will just worry my friends.”

  “You are most wise little miss. Very well I do suppose I can indulge you, and as a sign of good faith we will stop by at Bose on the way back. Your companion, the maid Aria is there, I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you again.”

  Jackpot.

  “And well, your uncle is worried about your future so he’s gone ahead and made some preparations for it. Your fiancé will be arriving in Albion soon, it is his wish that we keep you safe until the wedding can be completed during the Queen’s birthday celebrations.”

  “I see….” Noire lowered her head at Allant’s words, her face shadowed by her bangs, a dark look marred her face. Allant wasn’t able to see it but Leon caught sight of it just fine.

  Negotiations over huh? Heh heh heh, it’s show time!

  Feral smirk replacing his blank expression, Leon began dumping flux into his sagent, awaiting the signal from his liege lord.

  “Well my dear, will you drop the barrier and come with us please?”

  Snapping her head up, amber eyes burning with fury stared into Allant’s cold ones.

  “Not a chance in hell traitor.”

  “Wha-what?”

  “Fiancé? You mean my uncle plans to sell me off to some foreign noble, that way there’s no one left to impede his schemes. I am no one’s tool and if you think holding my friends hostage will deter me, think again.”

  Drawing her rapier and staring defiantly at her would be abductor. Noire levelled the blade against him and slid into a combat stance.

  No hesitation, no fear only a resolve of iron.

  “WHAT? But you said you wouldn’t run from us. Are you intending to go back on your word?”

  “I said I wouldn’t run, and I won’t. I will never find peace if I choose to run, so I will fight. Even if the odds are against me, I won’t back down anymore. Enough people have suffered under my uncle and I will not stand by and watch any longer. If you want me, come get me!”

  “Well said milady. Sir Geahart and I are sworn to Lady Noire’s service. If you want her you’re going to go through us.”

  SCREEEEEEEEE

  Noire’s ever faithful companion added his take to the matter.

  “You… you….”

  Allant’s face purpled with rage at the defiance he was being shown. Smile disappearing in a heartbeat, a truly ugly mug replaced it, his handsome features greatly distorted. And as quickly as it came it disappeared.

  Giving a tired sigh, he shrugged his shoulders, wrung his hands and shook his head in a ‘what can you do’ fashion.

  “Oh, well, let it not be said I didn’t try to be civil. I wasn’t lying about your friends or your uncle’s intentions. If you will not see reason, then I must bring you in by force. Shame really. Take the girl, dispose of the rest.”

  “S-sir, the… the knight is s-strong.”

  Denzel managed to spit out in between coughs. Already weakened from blood loss, he was rapidly approaching unconsciousness, only his sense of duty led him to speak up despite the pain.

  “Hmm? You’re still alive are you? The worthless false knight and the charlatan will not impede us, and as for you… many thanks for reminding me. Men, harvest these worthless sheep, their bounties will make an excellent bonus for the job.”

  Before the first round of protests could rise from the condemned men, the first of the black clad mercenaries had already drawn his blade and run of them through the chest.

  Sword erupting from his back, the man let out a gurgle and slid to the floor, his hauberk stained scarlet from the pooling crimson.

  “N-no!”

  “BASTARD! YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS!”

  And with that the melee was on. The battered men of the Iron Wolves did their best to resist the crushing tide of Allant’s men, but all they did was delay the inevitable.

  Tired and wounded as they were, they were no match for the fresh troops and one by one they fell, never to rise again.

  This is unsustainable, I’m getting tired and Noire won’t be able to hold the barrier forever.

  The puppeteer was in a bind, having expended most of his reserves earlier, he didn’t have much left for an extended engagement.

  At the rate things were sliding downhill, defeat was imminent. Bereft of any other option, he decided to take a gamble.

  “Oi, the men being slaughtered right now, you lead them do you not?”

  Engulfing one of the newcomers in a blazing conflagration, he directed his words to the fallen Denzel.

  “Y-yes I-I do. Wh-why?”

  “Your boss has betrayed you all, get your men to side with us or we all die here, your choice.”

  “F-f-fine! T-to all who answer to-to me, a-aid the girl. Allant has be-betrayed us all.”

  “““““SIR!”””””

  “Milady, can you open up the barrier to let them in? I am aware that this is a risky gamble but we don’t have a lot of options at the moment.”

  “Yes I can, bring in the wounded as well, I can patch them up slightly so they don’t bleed out.”

  “Understood.”

  What followed was fifteen minutes of an uncoordinated mess as the surviving men from the first wave hastily retreated behind Noire’s shield. Allant’s men continuously harassed them while the man himself stood at the back presiding over all with a smug smile.

  Geahart Valor and Leon did their best to shut down the black clad enforcers’ efforts wherever they could.

  Sliver flashed as Geahart cleaved a bloody path through the ranks of murderers and lightning and fire blasts lit up the area. The valiant cries of a bird determined to pay their foes back in full with interest compounded in blood rang out in the background.

  Despite their courageous efforts, many a man failed to make it behind the relative safety of the shield, and bodies from both sides piled up around the room.

  Being betrayed in such a manner by men they had called comrades left a great deal of the surviving mercenaries in a state of shock.

  Only their commander managed to keep them on their feet. Against Orders not to strain himself from Noire he continuously belted out orders to the men, rallying their defences against the onslaught.

  Noire let out a tired sigh at her patient’s adamant refusal to rest. Her hands glowed blue as she channelled flux into her healing spell.

  Denzel’s wounds were by far the most serious of any of the remaining mercenaries.

  His leg and arm were in bad shape and Noire had to expend most of her concentration to heal them.

  There were others who had come in with even more grievous wounds, sadly, they were beyond her ability to help and had already expired.

  Wiping the sweat of her brow with one blood covered arm, she continued her ministrations, doing her best to ignore her inability to ease the suffering of some and the sound of bodies collapsing.

  With her attention focused on her healing spell, her ability to hold up the barrier was reaching its limit, already holes were appearing in it and a hail of bullets would come flying though periodically.

  As yet another volley breached her shield, one of the Iron Wolves standing guard near her was hit in the face.

  A frown of consternation came over her face as the man crumpled. Noire lifted her rapier and pointed it in the direction of the man who’d fired the shot.

  Narrowing her eyes in concentration, she channelled a sizeable amount of flux into the blade and willed the world to bend to her ideal.

  For an instant, nothing happened. Then a blast of pure flux energy shot from the blade,
punching through the man’s rifle and piercing the shoulder behind it. With a flick of her wrist, the energy blade severed the man’s arm and dissipated.

  Screaming obscenities, the man keeled over clutching the stump where his right arm used to be.

  “Th-that was most impressive milady. But how did you-”

  “I am a mage good squire. I don’t need a sagent for my spells, with enough imagination and willpower, you’d be surprised by what I can do.”

  “Heh…” Pausing to light up one of Allant’s guards with a lightning bolt, Leon snarled as his target, Allant himself had simply grabbed one of his men to use as a human shield.

  “Well… on days like this I really wished I was a mage. The ability to freely modify spells on the fly would really come in handy.”

  “It does have its downsides squire. The risk of accidentally burning through all your life force is a very, very real threat.”

  “Hmmm I see… in any case milady, please don’t push yourself that far, Sir Geahart and I are here so you don’t have to. Still... that was impressive.”

  “I dislike fighting squire, doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t when I have to.”

  Resuming her efforts to patch up the wounded, Noire was busy fighting down the rising bile in her throat. The violence happening all around her went against her very nature.

  As a person who abhorred conflict, being a participant and a root cause of it made her sick to the stomach.

  Once Denzel’s condition was no longer in the red, she gave a shaky sigh of relief before moving on to the next man in need of aid.

  No longer burdened by all-consuming pain, the former vice-commander of the Iron Wolves rose to his feet, pistol in hand and pure unbridled fury burning in his eyes.

  Freeing his arm from his sling, he noted that it had been mostly healed. The wound was still raw and his arm stung something fierce but its use was restored to him.

  “Allant you bastard, it’s payback time.” He muttered under his breath as he relieved one of the fallen of their sidearm.

  Checking both to ensure they were in working order, his mouth set in a grim line, he stepped out of the circle of wounded, guns pointed to the enemy.

  “You exploited my men.”

  ‘Crack!’

  “You sold us out.”

  ‘Crack!’

  “You destroyed everything the Iron Wolves stood for.”

  ‘Crack!’

  “You killed MY men!”

  ‘Crack!’

  “And now… now you will die for it.”

  Punctuating each sentence with a pull of the trigger, Denzel unloaded a blistering barrage on the black clad soldiers. Unaware of the sudden appearance of a new threat, they never saw it coming.

  Smoking holes appeared right between the eyes of five of them and they keeled over on the spot.

  A vindictive smile graced his features as he saw Allant’s eyes widen in surprise before the man started blustering in impotent rage.

  His shots had the added benefit of removing the men keeping Geahart pinned down.

  No longer fettered by a large volume of fire, the puppet was able to wreck its personal brand of chaos on the battlefield.

  Longsword in hand furiously cleaving at anyone in range and leaping about in a manner reminiscent of a beast, the puppet gave the uninitiated a quick lesson on why it was to be feared.

  Any flux bolt that came close would be cut down in a single swing. Any weapon that menaced him would be cleanly sliced through, leaving only a stump.

  By Noire’s side, a sense of pride suffused Leon at seeing the results of his auto-intercept system.

  Such a performance would be beyond even Libra’s ability. Even if he wasn’t in control at the moment, just being able to give his masterpiece a way to act like that was an enormous boost to his pride.

  Once more executing a flurry of strikes only possible as a result of his inhuman nature and sensors, Geahart had disabled most of the opposition standing between him and Allant.

  Sometime during the madness of combat, Denzel had sidled up to his side, pistols directed towards Allant.

  “My thanks for the assist mercenary, but I had it under control.”

  “Of course, but it was taking too long. I want Allant’s head on a stick, and clearly so do you. Speeding things up seemed like a good idea.”

  “Enemy of my enemy huh?”

  “Indeed. The son of a bitch is a coward, he won’t move until we’ve dealt with his ‘shields’. You take the five on the right, I take the five on the left?”

  “That is acceptable.”

  The words barely out of his mouth before springing into action. Geahart charged the last bastion of enemy resistance, his blade weaving a silver mirage before him. From behind, a hail of fire poured relentlessly from Denzel.

  The ferocity of the assault caused their targets to scatter in hopes of avoiding the brunt of the damage.

  Allant continued screaming incoherently at the men, shoving them forward and retreating further behind them.

  Vaulting over a guard whose legs had been shot out from under him, Geahart punched the terrified target before him in the solar plexus with every bit of strength he had.

  An imprint of his fist was visible on the plate mail as the man went sailing across the room.

  Bringing his sword up to block an overhead smash from an opportunistic fool, he deflected the club with the flat of his blade.

  A shower of sparks exploded from the contact between the weapons. Using his momentum, Geahart spun and chopped downwards with his blade, ‘disarming’ the man.

  With a vicious kick, the azure knight sent his opponent sprawling in an undignified heap. Bending over backwards, he dodged a man flying courtesy of an explosion spell from his master.

  Throwing himself back into the fray, Geahart reached out a grabbed a man by his collar before pulling him in.

  Delivering a series of rapid fire punches to the miserable man’s face, he beat the man unconscious and knocked out most of his teeth in the process… not that there were many there to begin with.

  Throughout the room, the scrimmage was winding down. Most of the combatants had already been incapacitated in one way or another.

  Of the black clad assailants, only four remained on their feet, nervously gripping their weapons with Allant himself standing behind them.

  The mercenaries who were ‘fired’ by their boss did not emerge unscratched either.

  When the tide of battle seemed to oppose them, the men in black had begun executing the wounded still on the ground. Only eight remained alive excluding Denzel.

  “USELESS MISERABLE WEAKLINGS! WHAT DO I PAY YOU FOR? I ASK YOU TO DISPOSE OF ONE BLOODY FALSE KNIGHT AND ONE CHARLATAN AND YOU CAN’T EVEN DO THAT? AND THE SHEEP, THEY’RE ALREADY DEFEATED! WHY ARE YOU LOT FAILING SO HARD!”

  “A-Allant, they’re too strong. A-and Denzel is with them now. We can’t- URK….”

  The last thing the brave soul who dared to speak up saw was a shiny bluish silver hunk of metal sprouting from his chest. Then the cold seeped through his veins and his vision darkened forever.

  Pulling his blade free with a sick squelch, Allant calmly cleaned his longsword on the shirt of the recently passed.

  “I, am not interested in listening to excuses. One false knight, one dirty magician and a few washed up miscreants who desecrated the good name of the Iron Wolves. Is it too much to ask that you all deal with them quickly and then grab the girl? Clearly it is.”

  Sighing in exasperation, the disgraced former knight commander shrugged his shoulders and looked up. “Haaah, good help is so hard to find these days. When I get more recruits I will need to make it mandatory that they can pull their own weight. But for now… if you want something done right…”

  Giving his sword arm a few experimental swings to get used to the weight once more. Allant stared at Geahart and Denzel, all trace of mirth gone from him. Gripping the strangely coloured blade in both hands, he slid into a ready stance.
>
  “…You have to do it yourself. Now, bleed for me. En garde.”

  Bursting forward with surprising swiftness, Allant held his sword like a lance, intending to run Geahart through. Seeing where he was going, Leon had Geahart backpedal at full speed instead of meeting the charge head on.

  Somethings not right with this picture. Even if he is a corrupt bastard, one does not simply become a knight commander without the skills.

  Blindly charging ahead hardly fits the image.

  Leon pondered to himself as he fried the last three men with a full powered chain lightning spell.

  Right hand crackling with lightning and left shrouded in white hot flames, he was more than ready to exact justice on the man.

  Eyes narrowing in confusion at the sight before him, he was about to voice his question but Noire beat him to it.

  “Squire… do my eyes deceive me or are the bullets just vanishing when they get close?”

  “No milady, your eyes are perfectly fine, the bullets are disappearing…. This, is bad.”

  What the hell is going on here? This is madness. None of my shots are even coming close to him.

  Mentally swearing up a storm, Denzel was forced to throw himself to the side as Allant switched targets from the hyper mobile knight to the stationary gunner.

  Biting back a scream of pain as his half healed wounds painfully protested the rough treatment.

  Temporarily unable to stand, he lay on his back and let loose a withering barrage of flux bolts. Only to gnash his teeth in consternation as every round that came close simply winked out of existence.

  They didn’t dissipate as they had against Noire’s barrier, they didn’t run out of power and fade, they weren’t even absorbed by some kind of invisible force.

  One second they were there, the next they had completely vanished. Even the flux trails left by the round disappeared.