The Jackal Of Nar: Tyrants & Kings 1

by John Marco

  Gayle grinned. ‘I’ll bet there are people in there you care about, eh? People you wouldn’t want to see harmed?’

  Richius wouldn’t reply.

  ‘Where’s Voris? I expected to see him here, protecting you.’

  ‘He’s dead,’ said Richius. ‘Like your horsemen. What’s your proposition?’

  The insult erased Gayle’s smile. ‘Simple. You and me. Here and now.’

  Richius laughed. ‘Oh, yes. That’s a wonderful idea. Very generous of you, Baron. I’m sure your friends behind you won’t help you at all.’

  Blackwood Gayle began to answer, then saw a small group of warriors rushing out of the castle. ‘Ah, here come your own friends. Pretty meager, I’d say.’

  The warriors swarmed into the courtyard with their jiiktars raised. Richius put up a hand to halt them and they obeyed, stopping just short of Blackwood Gayle.

  ‘Call them off,’ ordered Gayle. He made no move to reach for his own weapon. ‘You’ll be sorry if you don’t.’

  ‘They don’t understand a word I say,’ said Richius wickedly. ‘They may cut your throat by accident.’

  Gayle’s face was stone. ‘If they do, then every one of these Shadow Angels will ride down on your little castle. Those are the orders I’ve given. Kill me, and all of you die.’ He laughed. ‘These Angels are such fanatics, you know.’

  Richius ordered the warriors back. Dyana came racing out of the castle.

  ‘Richius,’ she cried, running up to him. She glared at Blackwood Gayle. ‘What is happening? Who is this?’

  I’m glad you don’t remember, thought Richius as he pulled her arm away. Gayle leered at her menacingly.

  ‘I am Blackwood Gayle, Baron of Talistan. And who are you, woman? The whore Vantran came to save?’

  Richius scowled.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ crooned the baron. ‘I’ve heard that story. Biagio told me himself. And guess who told him? Who do you think betrayed you, Vantran?’

  ‘Baron...’

  Gayle laughed. ‘You don’t know, do you? It was the old man! Your dear Jojustin. Pity, don’t you think? You can’t trust anyone these days.’

  It was the news Richius had dreaded, and it ate at him. But it was also part of Gayle’s tactics. ‘Get inside, Dyana,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ said Dyana. ‘I will not leave you!’

  ‘Go!’ shouted Richius, grabbing her arm and pushing her roughly toward the gate. ‘And tell your husband not to come out here.’

  ‘Have her bring you a weapon,’ thundered Gayle. ‘We have a score to settle, you and I.’

  Dyana hovered by the gate, waiting for Richius’ order. He held up a hand to stop her as he faced Gayle.

  ‘A duel?’ he asked. ‘Why would I fight you?’

  ‘I’m getting impatient,’ rumbled Gayle. ‘Your time is running out. Tick tock, tick tock . . .’

  ‘Dyana, bring my sword,’ Richius called. ‘And tell everyone to stay inside. Everyone, do you hear?’

  She didn’t answer but sped into the castle. The warriors kept their eyes trained on Gayle.

  ‘Now,’ said Richius, ‘answer my question. Why should I fight you?’

  ‘I’m giving you a choice, Vantran. Fight me, or everyone in this castle dies, including that lovely thing that just left.’ Gayle licked his lips. ‘Lovely. Just like your wife.’

  Richius leapt forward, balling his fingers into a fist and driving it into Gayle’s astounded face. Gayle stumbled backward, too slow to avoid the attack, and the fist collided with his mask, driving it into his flesh. The mask buckled and Gayle howled, felled by the blow. The Shadow Angels began to move, but Gayle ordered them back.

  ‘No!’ he cried. He put his hand to his bloodied face and rose to his feet, hissing. ‘No one will have you but me, Jackal. You’re mine!’

  ‘Then come and get me, you murdering bastard. I’m ready for you!’

  Gayle laughed and took off his mask, flinging it over his shoulder to reveal his hideous visage. Blood dripped down his forehead into his blind eye. ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘I want to do this right. Man to man, Aramoorian to Talistanian, once and for all!’

  ‘And what assurance do you give me, monster? I’m fighting for the lives in this castle. How do I know you won’t deceive me?’

  Gayle raised a hand to the soldiers behind him. ‘Lieutenant,’ he called. A single Shadow Angel trotted out of the lineup. ‘This pup and I are going to duel. If I am killed, you will turn around and ride back to the Empire without harming anyone inside this castle. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, Baron,’ answered the soldier.

  ‘Repeat it for me.’

  ‘If you are killed we will ride back to the Empire. We will harm no one inside this castle.’

  ‘They’re Shadow Angels, Vantran,’ said Gayle. ‘They follow orders to the letter. You know that.’

  Richius was stupefied. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘What’s the point of all this, Gayle? You have the men to take the castle. Why not just do it? You’re a bloody bastard, I’m sure you’d enjoy it.’

  ‘Indeed I would. But then I might not get the chance to fight you myself, and I do so want that. It’s part of my sad tale, you see. My men are all dead. You killed them. And now the Narens are calling me a coward. They think you’ve beaten me, Vantran. But you never could beat me. I was always your better. Now I’m going to prove it.’

  ‘That’s a big boast. And if I lose?’

  ‘Fight well,’ advised Gayle. ‘Your friends are depending on you. If you lose they will die, quite horribly I assure you. Particularly that pretty one.’

  Richius swallowed his ire. ‘I’ll fight you. But only if you leave this castle alone, even if I lose.’

  ‘No chance,’ said Gayle. ‘I want your best, Vantran. You need something more than your own wretched life to fight for. The lives in the castle for your best duel, those are my terms. Consider your situation. I think my offer is quite generous.’

  Dyana came through the gate then, bearing Jessicane. She had taken it out of its scabbard so that the old blade glimmered in the sunlight. She handed it to Richius.

  ‘What will you do?’ she asked.

  ‘I will fight him,’ said Richius softly.

  ‘No,’ she gasped, clutching his hand. ‘Richius, you are still weak. He is too big. He will kill you.’

  ‘He will kill us all if I don’t fight him,’ said Richius. Gayle was waiting impatiently, tapping a foot on the grass. Richius ignored him and walked Dyana toward the door. ‘Get inside,’ he said. ‘Order the warriors inside, too. Close the gate and get ready for a fight. And whatever you do, don’t let Gayle see Tharn.’

  ‘No,’ begged Dyana. She would not let go of his hand. ‘Do not do this. Run inside. We can fight them.’

  ‘We can’t win, Dyana. There are too many. Do as I say. Take Shani and hide somewhere in the castle.’ He put his arms around her. ‘I love you,’ he whispered.

  ‘And I you. Live for me.’

  ‘Hurry up, Vantran,’ said Gayle. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘Dyana, get inside. Order the others in for me. Tell them it’s what I want.’

  Quickly Dyana told the warriors to follow her inside. Each flashed Richius a pleading look, but Richius waved them to go. They surrounded Dyana and escorted her through the gates. Richius waited until the iron gate closed before turning his attention back to Gayle, holding out his broadsword for the baron to see.

  ‘Do you know this sword?’ he asked. ‘You should. It killed your uncle. And now it’s going to kill you.’

  An insane fire burned in Gayle’s lone eye. ‘I hope your father taught you well, whelp,’ he said, and drew his own sword, a long, thin blade with a serrated edge and jewel-encrusted hilt. With his other hand he unclasped his cape and let it fall to the ground. ‘I was always better than you, Vantran. Always.’

  Richius hefted Jessicane in two hands and stepped forward. ‘Prove it, murderer.’

  They began to circle each other, Gayle dancing gleefully in a wi
de arc while Richius kept his steps short and light. He knew the baron’s bulk could easily exhaust him, and without any armor it would take only a single blow to bring him down. But Gayle wore only leather himself, and Jessicane’s toothy edge could easily bite through it.

  As they squared off, Richius’ eyes kept darting back distractedly to the castle. The gate remained closed, but concerned faces stared down at him from the dingy windows. He forced them out of his mind and concentrated on Gayle, who was closing the gap between them.

  ‘Your wife was a tasty bit,’ he taunted. ‘She called for you when I killed her.’

  Richius felt his legs turn to water. A trick, he told himself. Don’t listen. But Sabrina’s image flared in his memory, clouding his mind. He fought to suppress it, struggling not to hear her distant screams. He glimpsed Dyana’s worried face pressed against a windowpane. She would be next if he didn’t win.

  Gayle screamed and charged forward, thrusting with his sword. Richius skidded aside, batting the blade away. Jessicane rang out as the two swords collided, driving Richius to a knee. Gayle howled and hammered down again and again, raining blows on Richius, who kept his blade extended like a metal roof against the vicious onslaught.

  That’s it, he thought. Tire yourself.

  Blackwood Gayle backed off and Richius sprang, both hands driving his sword at the baron’s belly. But Gayle was agile and expected the counter. He twisted and let Richius skid by, then swung his weapon. The flat of the blade smashed against Richius’ unprotected back, setting the acid-chewed skin afire with pain. Richius gasped and stumbled away. Gayle simply laughed.

  ‘You are weak,’ the baron chortled. ‘No match at all. As I suspected.’

  A little prayer sprang into Richius’ mind. He was panicking. Unbearable pain squeezed his breath into short bursts. Fevered drops of sweat blossomed on his forehead. In the windows he saw Dyana’s mouth moving, urging him on desperately. Najjir was beside her, her eyes wide. Mercifully, Tharn was nowhere to be seen. If Gayle knew he was here...

  ‘Come along now, boy,’ jeered the baron. ‘Your lesson isn’t over yet.’

  Richius lifted his sword again and readied for another bout. He needed an advantage over Gayle, but didn’t have one. Already Jessicane had become like lead in his grasp. And Gayle was barely winded.

  Gayle charged unexpectedly forward and they clashed again. His sword swung up toward Richius’ head. Richius swiped the blade aside and drove his knee into Gayle’s hip. The baron’s own knees buckled for an instant and he tumbled into the dirt, rolling away from Richius’ attack. A handful of dirt sprang into Richius’ eyes, forcing him to back away while Gayle regained his footing. The two duelists moved apart and righted themselves. Gayle was gasping at last, dizzied by the attack. Richius blinked away the motes of dirt. The flesh of his back still tingled. He shouted and came at Gayle again, pressing him back with a ferocious series of blows. Gayle parried each of them expertly. Sparks flew from the clashing blades. Exhausted, Richius backed away, readying for the baron’s counter. But Gayle was breathing too hard to attack.

  ‘You’re tiring, Baron,’ hissed Richius. ‘You’re getting sloppy.’

  Gayle spat a wad of saliva at Richius and wiped a hand over his sweaty face. Blood dripped into his eye, blinding him. Richius saw the chance and sprang forward, growling like a wildcat and flinging himself at Gayle. The Talistanian brought up his defense an instant too late. Jessicane glanced off his blade and across his rib cage, cutting open the leather armor and tasting the tender skin beneath. Gayle swore and thrust at Richius, driving him back. Blood sluiced from his side. He doubled over for a moment, then came at Richius again, screaming and unleashing a berserker barrage.

  Jessicane blocked the blows, but the attack went on and on. Fatigue tightened the muscles in Richius’ arm. The flesh of his back roared with pain. He was panting, fighting off the tide of metal by instinct alone. He glimpsed the gate of the castle moving upward and an animal panic shot through him.

  ‘No!’ he cried. His eyes swept back to the castle and caught the image of a cloaked man emerging from the shadows.

  It was all Gayle needed.

  The thundering pain of a kneed groin ripped Richius in half. Gayle’s sword pommel slammed into his temple. The world winked out of view. A nauseating sensation overcame him, and when his eyes opened he was staring at the sky. The looming figure of Blackwood Gayle blotted out the sun. Quickly he tried to snatch up his sword, but Gayle’s boot came down on his fingers. Richius cried out in anguish, and all his thoughts were suddenly of Dyana.

  We are dead, he thought.

  ‘You have lost,’ echoed Gayle. He brought the point of his sword to Richius’ throat and pressed a foot down on his chest. The baron was wheezing and laughing at the same time, favoring his bleeding side as he pushed the air from Richius’ lungs. ‘I am the best,’ he declared triumphantly. ‘The best.’

  Richius fought to remain conscious. He saw Tharn step out from the darkness of the gateway. A trio of warriors was with him, each with a bow in hand and a jiiktar on his back. Richius cursed. What did it matter now? Gayle had beaten him. The castle was finished anyway. He gritted his teeth and awaited the final blow.

  ‘Do it,’ he spat into Gayle’s face. ‘Kill me.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ sang Gayle. He leaned a little closer. ‘Not yet. I want you to see what I’m going to do.’

  ‘You are a butcher!’

  Gayle seemed to love the insults. ‘Yes, yes,’ he agreed. ‘And so much worse, as you shall see. Who should I take first, Jackal? Your pretty little bitch?’

  ‘You will take no one, monster,’ declared a ringing voice. Tharn stepped into the courtyard with his trio of bowmen, walking without a cane, as straight and upright as any man. His shoulders were squared and his tufted hair stood in hackles from his scalp, and as he spoke he bared his teeth like a wolf. The voice bespoke nothing of infirmity, but rang in the yard with the might of a trumpet and the defiance of a battered flag. Astonished, Gayle turned toward the castle.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘I am Tharn,’ proclaimed the cunning-man. ‘I am Storm Maker.’

  The sword in Gayle’s grip slackened. ‘You?’ he roared. ‘You!’

  ‘Back away, savage,’ commanded Tharn. The veins on his face twisted like snakes. He brought up a glowing fist and his broken body seemed to grow, nourished by the glamour he called down from heaven. Behind the castle, the sky deepened to a violent gray. ‘Away,’ he ordered. ‘Today you are undone!’

  ‘Do not thwart me, sorcerer!’ bellowed Gayle. An electrified cloud rose over the castle like a demon’s hand. Gayle drove down hard on Richius with his boot. ‘I will kill him!’

  Tharn twitched a finger and his bowmen loosed their arrows. The shafts slammed into the baron’s neck, piercing his windpipe. Richius twisted out from under the man, grabbing his sword, barely able to hold it and staggering to his feet. The Shadow Angels snapped their reins. Gayle gurgled an order and watched in horror as Richius brought Jessicane down. His skull cracked, and Blackwood Gayle of Talistan dropped in a heap to the ground.

  ‘Inside!’ Tharn commanded. Richius turned to see the cunning-man with his arms outstretched, a monstrous, black aura sparking around him. His crimson eyes pulsed with fire. He was a thing of hell, a devil, mad and possessed of some unholy force. The warriors of Castle Dring came screaming out of the gate, storming toward the Shadow Angels. Richius stumbled forward, dropping Jessicane and struggling toward the gate. His crushed hand drooped uselessly at his wrist and the pain through his body made every step an agony. Behind him the Shadow Angels drew their swords to meet the handful of warriors. He could see Dyana rushing out to help him.

  ‘No!’ he moaned. ‘Go back.’

  But Dyana dashed out into the yard and grabbed his arm, wrapping it around her neck and dragging him under the gate. The sky outside darkened. Richius turned to glimpse the crazed figure of Tharn raising his hands, and the astonished fac
es of Shadow Angels as they eyed the raging thing growing over the castle. Tharn’s robes blew wildly against his body. A roaring boom detonated in the heavens, shaking the walls of the keep and sending chunks of stone tumbling down from the towers. Dyana fell and put her hands to her ears. Richius dropped down over her as shards of rock shook from the cracked ceiling. Dyana tried to rise but he held her down.

  ‘Stay!’ he ordered, shielding her from the rocky rain. Out in the yard, the Shadow Angels fought against the stiffening wind. Branches blew back from tree trunks and snapped away. The horses reared as their masters urged them onward. A purple mist twisted around their hooves. And Tharn endured it all like a mountain, tall and wrathful and remorseless.

  ‘Die!’ he shouted.

  Another vicious hammerblow detonated in the heavens, an earthshaking boom that toppled a handful of horses. Richius felt a viselike pressure squeezing his head. Beneath him, Dyana screamed. In the yard, more horses tottered and collapsed, throwing off their riders as they snorted blood and cried in pain. Richius cried out, too. The terrible pressure made his eardrums pop with a sharp snap. He crawled toward the gate, shaking and stretching out his broken hand.

  ‘Tharn!’ he called. ‘Stop!’

  Tharn ignored him. The Drol was almost invisible now, cloaked in the lavender mist. Through the haze, Richius could see the writhing figures of the Shadow Angels as they clutched at their heads, trying to keep their skulls from splitting. The enormous pressure of the air grew to a terrible crescendo. The mist rose with the tortured cries of the men. Richius felt himself losing consciousness, drifting away even as he dragged himself toward Tharn.

  ‘Stop,’ he groaned. He clawed at the dirt, crushed by the furious noise. Tharn was gone, swallowed up in the purple storm. Richius put his cheek to the ground and covered his head with his arms, burying himself in the grass. The pressure bore down on him, suffocating him, until he could stand no more. He was going to die. Dyana, too. But not Shani. Shani would live. Richius closed his eyes and let the pain come, calmed by the serene image of his beautiful daughter . . .