The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade

by Jason Psilopoulos

  "What are you doing?" Uther asked in a whisper. Marcus patted him on the shoulder.

  "Trusting the boy." Uther heard it. He understood it. But it still felt wrong. He wasn't the person for this. "Just believe. Courage comes to those who act," Marcus added. Uther nodded. He wasn't sure what it was he was believing in, but he could see that Marcus knew something. He closed his eyes and turned.

  "Let's get this over with," Zeriff said impatiently. Uther took a step forward, and Mordred matched his movement. He stepped again, and the same result followed. Uther concentrated on what he was doing. He looked into the faceless visage that was Mordred Landoro, and tried to focus. He looked at Jennifer, her face stretched in pain and hysteria. Her tears were soaking down her face, smearing her makeup and diminishing her carefully prepared beauty. Uther watched her for a long moment, focusing himself.

  Mordred was several paces away from Uther. Still, the boy could feel the power coming from the mask. It was potent and vile. Mordred could've snuffed out his life with a glance if he dared. But Uther could feel something else as well. Something he didn't expect. The power within the mask felt almost sad. Uther smiled weakly at Mordred, and straightened his face.

  "What are you smirking at? The blade, boy." Uther shook his head.

  "The girl first." Mordred's body language betrayed his thoughts. Uther could see him mulling it over. He looked at Jennifer, who was watching him closely.

  "Go." Mordred said, shoving Jennifer toward Uther. She tripped. Uther caught her in mid-stride, his hand snagging her arm. He felt his heart skip as she looked into his eyes. She seemed almost embarrassed to have stumbled. Uther stared with concern for a beat. "Enough stalling! Give me the Falseblade!" Uther set Jennifer on her feet, motioning her toward Marcus. Jennifer began walking toward the paladin, her pace remaining slow.

  What is he doing? Marcus asked himself. Uther wasn't coming back. He was just standing there, holding the blade. Jennifer was drawing closer and closer. If Mordred wanted that weapon, he could crush Uther in one blow. The two were ten paces away. Marcus could never get there in time.

  "Stop!" Mordred called to Jennifer. She came to a halt, a fear on her face that Marcus had never seen. She tried to move her feet, but like Rebekah a year ago, Jennifer was frozen in place. Mordred’s power of control was still very much in effect. "Give[Jason Psi1] me the blade, Un'Hok Tol." Uther glared back at Mordred, meeting his gaze.

  "No," he said simply. Everyone's eyes were on Uther now. Mordred began to raise his silver blade. Donavan pulled the bolt back on his rifle. A dozen rifle bolts clicked into place in that second. Marcus had his own blade at the ready. He didn't know what was happening. Either Uther had lost his mind, or Mordred had taken it instead.

  "Uther!" Marcus called out. Uther set the weight of the blade in one hand and held his other at his side. He was as calm and quiet as Marcus had ever seen him. The entire of the room was enraptured, trying to figure out what was happening.

  "What're you doing? He’s gonna kill her! Give him the sword!" Gerard called from the far end of the stage, his nerves about to snap. Drew did his best to keep Gerard back and away from the scene. He was fighting with everything he had just to keep him in place. Uther continued to glare at Mordred. Mordred's focus was entirely on Uther. He persisted in raising his blade.

  "You're dead you little half-man." Uther just shook his head.

  "That is not Jennifer!" Uther called out. His claws extended and he dove at Mordred. Marcus smirked as he charged ahead.

  Chapter 30

  Prophecy

  "Open fire!" Donavan commanded, letting fly a round from his rifle. One of the Absolutes toppled where he stood, the bullet ripping through the shoulder of the armor. All around the Holodrome, the same drama was playing out. Donavan's men were opening fire and felling the Absolutes as quickly as they possibly could.

  "Captain!" one of his lieutenants cried out over the tactical net.

  "What?" Donavan barked, lining up a second shot.

  "These guys aren't staying down!" Donavan didn't think that too unusual.

  "They're Dreads. What did you expect?" The security officer didn’t sound sold on the explanation.

  “No sir. They are NOT staying down.” Donavan looked up from his sniper scope and saw what his officer was referring to. All around the Holodrome, the Absolutes were falling to hits that would’ve killed anything living. And just as quickly, they were rising. Donavan put a bullet through the helmet of one of them, watching as the Absolute twisted and tumbled down and off the stage into the orchestra pit. Within a few seconds, he was leaping up again, as though nothing had happened at all.

  "What's the plan Sir?" Donavan knocked down a few more, running along the catwalk to a better position.

  "Mister Nichols. Patch me into Marcus Kasidyne's comm frequency." Eddie did as he was requested.

  "Two seconds," he relayed. Eddie was sitting at his station on the Triumphant, coordinating the attack and filtering through the comm chatter. His hands danced across the plexi-glass console, manipulating his controls with expert precision. "You're on Captain."

  "Marcus. These guys don't die or something?" Marcus whipped his blade around and punched, sending an Absolute flying into the third row.

  "They aren't alive Donavan. Their just suits of armor. You're gonna need a different tactic." Marcus cut the comm, returning to his attack. Donavan moved to another position on the catwalk, readying another shot. He felt a fist smash into his ribs. His entire body felt it as he staggered sideways. Donavan grabbed the railing, intent on not falling this time. He looked up, and watched the catwalk starting to dance as heavy footfalls threatened to collapse it.

  "You've impugned me for the last time, little man. No one commands the messiah of the Draykons!" Zeriff reached out for his prey, only to get a burst of semi-automatic fire from Donavan's rifle. The bullets bounced harmlessly away, snapping one of the cables holding up the catwalk.

  "This is where you end Captain. That is MY COMMAND!"

  Uther knew better than to stay around Mordred. His feet carried him quickly up into the seats, disappearing into the crush of people who stampeded toward an exit. People pushed and shoved, trying to get into the upper levels and out of danger. Uther looked back, and saw Mordred on the stage, still reeling from the sudden attack. He had taken Mordred completely by surprise. But he knew he wouldn't be able to do that twice.

  The room was alive with frenzy. Uther watched in that second as Marcus tore into the fray, slashing and diving, throwing Absolutes in a dozen different directions. He was fast and powerful. Uther couldn't see how Cole Remec even stood a chance in fair combat.

  Cole was on the other side of the stage, swinging his oversized zweihander in wide arcs, practically bludgeoning anyone who came near. He was strong, but lacking in speed. His face was set with gleeful determination. Cole lived for this. He swung out with his blade, sending an Absolute screaming into the tenth row. Cole's plodding swordsmanship was effective, and Uther could see why he was so talented. The Absolutes couldn't get near him, even if he was so slow.

  "I see you BOY!" Mordred took two steps in Uther's direction, and lunged, seeming to fly at him. His black cloaks billowed behind him like the wings of a gargoyle. Uther pounced toward the far end of the row as Mordred landed, caving in the seating with a horrifying crash. People and chairs scattered from the force of the impact. Uther stowed the Falseblade in his belt and perched himself on the railing between the sections. Mordred rose from his self-made crater and seethed.

  "You will not have this weapon." Uther said it with all the force his voice could muster. Mordred's flaming eye intensified. Uther could feel him invading his mind, trying to reach inside and force him to his knees. Uther shook him off, diving further away.

  "You do not have the power to resist me for long." Mordred barreled at him again. Uther juked sideways toward the stage. He sprung off the balls of his feet, flipping once and landing in a near horizontal position. Mordred walked down th
e row almost casually.

  “But I can resist you. There will be no force laden upon me. You have no sway here,” Uther said, his voice deep and menacing.

  “You are weak. I will break you!” He started toward Uther at a threatening angle. The boy poised himself to move.

  "I may be weak, but you still will not get this blade!" Uther pulled it from his belt and held it outward. Mordred shifted his weight to dive again, but the blade was suddenly gone. "I have fast friends." Mordred looked up, seeing Jack rushing for the other end of the stage, Falseblade in hand.

  "Come back here!" Mordred began after him.

  "I could use a weapon here!" Ian called out, wrestling with an Absolute who seemed intent on driving a blade through his neck. His daggers had been snatched from his belt in the first three seconds.

  “I have nothing!” Ichiro blurted as he pummeled an absolute with fists that Ian could barely see.

  “Then retreat the stage!” Hikaru ordered. “Protect the civilians!” Hikaru turned and hooked his blades along the armor's midsection, pulling and flinging the phantom armor away toward the middle of the room.

  "I have blades in my cuirass," he offered. Ian reached over and grabbed a pair of short swords from Hikaru's belt and twirled them in his hands. “Are those sufficient?”

  “As long as their sharp.” In a flurry of motion, Ian tore ahead. Aiko was twenty feet away, back to back with her father, holding one of his long blades. Her perfect wedding dress was slashed and torn from Dread Paladin weaponry, but Aiko herself was intact. Ian and Hikaru met them in the middle of the stage, all now back to back with each other.

  "This is not how I planned to honeymoon," Aiko said lightly. Ian smirked.

  "I thought you wanted to sweat." The Absolutes began to close in, circling like vultures.

  “I believe there is a more pleasurable way for us to perspire,” she said with a smirk. Hikaru growled in disgust.

  “Must we be burdened with your erotic banter?” Hikaru batted aside an attack and leveled an Absolute with his bare hands.

  "I concur,” Tetsuo droned. “As father of the bride I would ask that you continue this conversation elsewhere. Preferably where I cannot hear." Ian and Aiko glanced at each other with smiles in their eyes.

  "You have a better idea Sir?" Ian asked.

  "Over and under," Aiko suggested. Ian nodded, knowing exactly what she was suggesting.

  "On three." Ian laced his hands together and turned. "THREE!" Aiko stepped up and Ian flipped her into the air. He watched as his bride did two somersault and landed feet first on the head of an Absolute, before swinging out her blade and slashing the feet out from beneath the phantom armor.

  “Where did you learn that?” Hikaru asked. Ian shrugged.

  “We needed something to do to keep from . . . perspiring,” Ian said delicately. Hikaru groaned again. “Training was the only other thing she wanted to do. We got good at that move.”

  “I hate you,” Hikaru said forcefully.

  “Live now. Hate him later.,” Tetsuo implored. Aiko kicked off another Absolute, turned and kissed Ian.

  “Come my husband. Let us chase away our demons together.” Ian, Hikaru and Tetsuo rushed ahead, cutting through the wall of false warriors. But Ian couldn’t help smiling.

  “I love you,” he said admiringly. Aiko grinned at him.

  “Let us live to enjoy it then.”

  "Marcus!" Jennifer called out, rushing toward him. Marcus drove a shoulder into his opponent, knocking it into the wall. He turned as Jennifer ran toward him. She reached for him, intent on hugging him around the neck. "Save me!" Marcus turned, grabbing her wrist and flipping her onto her back with a thud. Jennifer looked stunned, but not hurt.

  "I don't know what your deal is lady," Marcus said, holding the tip of his sword in her face, "But I'm getting really tired of this game." Jennifer smiled maliciously.

  "I thought we had a good thing going my dear," she started, kicking out and knocking Marcus back a few steps. Jennifer reared back and flipped onto her feet, pulling a black blade from seemingly nowhere. Marcus dug in his front foot a little, readying himself. "Come on. Play the game. If you'd just let yourself live the fantasy, we could've been married by now." Marcus parried a thrust and began to circle.

  "That's what I need. A knife in my back on my wedding night." Jennifer surged ahead, stalling blades with Marcus. She was amazingly strong for someone so small.

  "Really. A knife?" Jennifer said through gritted teeth. "Tell me I'm not that clichéd." With a flurry of motion, Jennifer shoved Marcus's blade aside and kissed him full on the mouth, before punctuating it with a kick in the stomach. Marcus faltered a bit. He gathered himself, raising his blade and blocking a strike from above. Jennifer started giggling in a voice shriller than Marcus had ever heard.

  “Now a bludgeon in the face. That would be interesting.” Marcus stalled an incoming strike and forced his attacker away.

  "You pose as my ex-fiancé to distract me. You play on old emotions and you try to seduce me. Not original." Marcus mustered his strength, shoving Jennifer away from him and following with a charging stab. The two began a dance of swords, thrusting and parrying, leaping and diving, neither giving nor taking quarter. After a moment, Marcus fell back, readjusting his grip on his blade.

  "Where's Jennifer Burton?" Marcus spat, his voice like ice. The false Jennifer looked pleased.

  "With us. We nabbed her long before she got here. I've been with you the entire time." Marcus ground his teeth sharply. "Didn't you know?"

  "Who are you anyway?" Jennifer smirked, swishing her blade around her. She gave her hair a slight flick, and flashed a picture-perfect smile. Another flurry of sword strikes followed, and Marcus parried them all expertly. Jennifer flourished her blade and her dress, dancing gleefully as she did so.

  "Let's just say it’s a family affair." Jennifer dove at him again, and Marcus met her head on.

  "You can't keep running Roykirk!" Mordred howled, doing his best to get ahead of Jack as he zigzagged through the crowds of Dreads and civilians. Jack just seemed to be one step ahead every time. Jack cut right, ducking behind an Absolute for cover. He made sure to keep the exit in sight. It would've been dirt simple to get there if Darius wasn't blocking the way.

  "I sure as life can try you bull-headed moron!" Jack made another move, keeping at least four bodies between him and the Sustainer. He wasn't going to allow him any advantage. He remembered what Marcus had told him about the Mask of Sorrows. If he could keep Mordred distracted, he could keep him from becoming a serious threat.

  "Jack! Hand-off!" Ian called. Jack turned and headed toward Ian's position. His feet skid out from under him as he tried to stop himself. Mordred had appeared in his path.

  "You can't escape me, child!" Jack set the blade on the floor and slid it behind him. Before Mordred could react, Mary had scooped it up and was running with it toward the far end of the stage. Jack smiled at Mordred, showing him his empty hands.

  “You gotta be quicker than that, Dirt Bag.” With a growl, Mordred headed after Mary, his attention drawn away again.

  "This fighting is pointless!" Zeriff said with a grunt, grabbing Donavan by the throat. He lifted the captain into the air with one hand, squeezing just enough to cut off Donavan's air supply. "You are the first to fall by my hand in this conflict Captain. I grant you that honor." Donavan kicked and thrashed, trying his best to break Zeriff's iron grip. He gasped out as he punched, to no avail.

  "Your struggling is laughable Captain." Donavan put a hand in his pocket, feeling something. A smile came to his face as he found it. "You dare to smile at me? What could you find so amusing you wretch?" Zeriff loosened his grip, and Donavan looked him dead in the eyes.

  "GOTCHA!" Donavan's hand swept upward, drawing Zeriff's attention. In Donavan's gloved hand was a pistol. Donavan swept his arm around and shot out one of the cables. The catwalk shifted to one side, nearly throwing Zeriff onto his seat. Donavan turned around and fired, snapping ano
ther cable. Zeriff's red skin took a paler shade as Donavan aimed again.

  "No! Don't!" The trigger pulled easily. The bullet flew from the weapon, and Zeriff loosened his grip. Donavan fell to the catwalk and grabbed a loose cable. The bullet ripped the support wire as Zeriff prepared to fly off, bending his knees for a leap. The whipping cable snapped out and caught Zeriff in the face, knocking him out of the air and to the stage below. The floor splintered beneath him, leaving him unconscious in a hole in the stage.

  “You want a command? Stay down!" Donavan managed, climbing the support cable and stepping onto another rafter.

  "I really think you should reconsider Marcus. I mean, I'm not that bad a date. I’ve been accused of being fun. And I’m told I’m good in bed," Jennifer danced about the stage, trying to get Marcus to commit to an action. Marcus remained steady and stalwart. This wasn't Jennifer. She was a Silent Knife. The same who'd impersonated Aiko. He could feel it in his bones.

  "I don't date psychos," Marcus retorted. Jennifer looked crushed.

  "I'm not crazy!" she spat, a rage filling her face. "I love you Marcus! Can't you see that?" Marcus slapped away a sword swipe, smirking a little. It was the same reaction she'd had at Ellen's Landing. An irrational rage. He had his opening.

  "I see a fake woman with a fake personality trying to make a fake love from nothing." Jennifer stopped dancing, her body tensing at the insult. "How could I possibly love someone who isn't real? You mean about as much to me as toast in the morning." Jennifer's face started to contort with fury. She didn't look right, her features warping in her anger. “Actually, toast is a tougher decision. Wheat, white or sourdough.”

  "Do not insult me like this!" Jennifer started stomping her feet like a little child. "I'm warning you!" Marcus shook his head.

  "Why would that matter? You're nobody. Is there a person under that disguise? Too caught away playing a role to be a real person. Too scared to be yourself. Too terrified that no one would want someone so obviously false. That no one would love you for who you are. I can't love a coward like you." Jennifer's features blanked for a second, wavering with her anger. Marcus readied his weapon as the woman that had been his ex-fiancé shifted into someone entirely different. Brown hair was replaced with black. Jade eyes became deepest blue. And the gown was replaced with Dread Paladin armor.