by Aaron Hodges
When he did, Gabriel leapt at him with a roar. Eric stood his ground, fighting to hold his own as Gabriel unleashed a string of blows. His arm shook with each clash. He began to retreat, ducking and dodging, while making the occasional attack of his own. Several times Gabriel’s blade snuck through, biting at Eric’s flesh. Within minutes his arms and body stung from the kiss of Gabriel’s sword.
Gabriel kept on, seeming to gain strength with every blow. Swearing, Eric fought on, his strength waning rapidly. His boots grew heavier, his weary legs unable to move with the same speed as earlier. He struggled to keep his blade moving, to jump from the path of Gabriel’s blows. He all but gave up counterattacking.
His foes grin widened with each swing. It seemed adrenaline now more than countered whatever fatigue he felt from his time adrift.
At least, even exhausted, Eric still moved faster than his opponent. He found himself studying Gabriel’s movements, watching for the first clench of muscle or flicker in his eyes to reveal his next attack. Gabriel’s bulk made him slow and his inexperience provided more than enough warning for Eric to avoid most of his blows.
Not all of them though, Eric winced as Gabriel’s blade bounced from his own and smashed against his elbow. Arm numb, Eric backed away.
Sensing blood, Gabriel pressed the attack.
Eric swore, feet carrying him to safety as Gabriel’s blade glanced from his shoulder. He lashed out to cover his retreat.
Gabriel knocked the blow aside, contempt on his face. “Not so tough without your magic, are you?” he mocked.
“Least I’m not a bumbling buffoon like you,” Eric snapped back, pain driving his anger.
Gabriel only grinned, and struck again. Eric raised his sword but Gabriel knocked it aside, his shoulder driving into Eric’s chest. The force of the collision knocked the wind from his lungs, sending Eric tumbling across the ground. The sword spun from his grip, landing a few feet from where he lay.
Gabriel laughed and raised his sword over Eric’s head.
Dimly, Eric heard Caelin shouting something. His ears rung, making Caelin’s voice seem distant and frail. He summoned the last of his strength and threw himself from the path of Gabriel’s blade. A soft thud came from behind him as mud sprayed the air.
Gabriel wrenched his blade free of the earth and came after him. Eric gasped for breath, unable to summon the strength to move. The sword appeared overhead, already descending towards his head.
Eric raised an arm over his face in a feeble attempt to protect himself.
Metal shrieked on metal as another blade blocked the blow.
“Enough,” Enala growled. “If you want a real contest, you’ll fight me.”
*************
Enala studied Gabriel and Eric as they fought, wincing each time the heavy blades found flesh. Gabriel’s bulk clearly gave him the edge, but both would have some nasty bruises come tomorrow. She herself was used to the harsh sting of practice blades; her parents had taught her from a young age how to fight. It was a pleasant change to see someone else suffering.
The two young men appeared almost equally incompetent, but she could see Gabriel slowly gaining the advantage. His strength and reach drove Eric backwards, and despite his speed, Enala could see Eric beginning to fade.
She could also see the rage masked behind Gabriel’s eyes, that he would not stop should Eric fall. Moving away from Inken, she walked to the bundle of blades beside Caelin. Retrieving one, she crossed the field to where the fight was drawing to an end.
As Eric fell she leapt forward, her sword flicking out to catch Gabriel’s blow. Her own anger caught light in her chest, rising from the depths of her pain. With everything they faced, how could these two still be fighting one another? A dark tide was sweeping towards them, and their only chance of survival was to stand together.
“Enough,” she growled. “If you want a real contest, you’ll fight me,” it was all she could do to hold back her rage.
“What are you doing?” Gabriel snapped. “You know what he did!”
“I do – you don’t. You don’t have the whole story, so enough of this nonsense. If you had listened to anyone, you would know what truly happened. These people helped me, saved me. Some of them gave their lives for me. And the fight is not done yet. So if you want a piece of Eric, you’ll have to go through me.”
“Get out of my way, Enala. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Enala laughed and swiped out with her sword. The blade rapped across Gabriel’s knuckles. He swore and dropped his weapon.
“Pick it up, and show me what you’re made of.”
Gabriel growled and swept up his blade. He made a few weak swings, clearly expecting the blows to knock the sword from Enala’s hands. Enala swept them aside with contempt, and then slashed out with her own weapon. Gabriel yelped as it connected with his elbow. The sword slipped from his numb fingers.
“Pick it up,” she nodded to the blade.
Five minutes later Gabriel sat on his knees, gasping for breath and cradling his right arm. Purple marks spotted his skin where bruises had already begun to swell. His sword lay discarded on the ground nearby. He looked up at Enala, hurt in his eyes.
Enala stared down, anger still boiling within. It raged against her restraint, screaming for her to teach Gabriel a lesson. He had almost killed Eric, almost struck him down while he lay unarmed and helpless. What good would that have done any of them? Inexperienced or not, Eric was the only Magicker their little company had left.
She grated her teeth, fingers clenched around the pommel of her sword. The blade trembled in her hand. Pressure swelled in her chest, her frustration bubbling within.
Then she took a deep breath, and it vanished.
Enala stood, panting softly. She felt a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, but otherwise she showed little sign of exertion. Despite Gabriel’s strength and her small size, the blacksmith had not been hard to tame. Gabriel might be brave, but his skill with a sword left a lot to be desired.
Turning, Enala walked back to where Caelin and Inken stood watching and tossed her blade back onto the pile.
“Who trained you to fight like that?” Caelin asked.
Enala shrugged. “My parents. They taught me how to fight when I was young,” she glanced at them. “Perhaps they knew more about all this than they let on.”
“Maybe,” Caelin eyed her closely. “We have a few days here in Lon before the ship can set sail. If you’re interested, I’m sure Inken or myself would be happy to have you as a sparring partner. Gods knows those two aren’t up to it,” he nodded to where Eric and Gabriel still sat nursing their bruises.
Eric laughed as he stood. “Agreed. Gabriel was bad enough,” he held out his hand. “Thank you.”
Enala shook her head. “No, thank you,” she looked around. “Thank you all. I had no idea what you went through to find me. If not for you, I don’t think I would be alive right now. That Balistor, he would have found me, one way or another. I am sorry for how I’ve acted,” she stepped up and hugged Eric.
“You’re welcome,” Eric smiled back as they drew apart.
They turned at the sound of Gabriel climbing to his feet. Enala’s heart sank as he stared at her, his face twisted with emotion. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Spinning on his heel, he stalked from the field.
Enala glanced at the others. “I’ll talk to him.”
Six
Gabriel looked up as the door to his room opened. Before he could object, Enala slipped into the dormitory, eyes downcast. She clenched her fists, sucked in a breath, and then crossed to sit on the bunk opposite him.
Neither of them spoke. They sat quietly in the dark, the silence stretching out into an unbearable tension. Gabriel gritted his teeth, the bruises to his body and pride feeding his anger. He made to speak, and then thought better of it. With a stubborn grunt, he rolled over on the bed, turning his back to Enala.
“I�
�m sorry,” he heard her whisper. “I lost my temper. There is so much happening here, Gabriel. So much to take in,” her voice cracked.
Hearing the sorrow, the loneliness in her voice, Gabriel took a breath and turned back to her. “You betrayed me.”
Anger flashed in Enala’s eyes, burning away the tears. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and shook her head. “No, I was not betraying you. I was stopping you from doing something stupid, something you would regret.”
Gabriel sat up on the bed, staring hard at Enala. “I would not regret killing him,” he struggled to contain his anger. “It is all that has kept me going since I left Oaksville.”
“Yes,” Enala replied. “Hate is a strong force. But it is also an evil one – it has already driven you to make awful choices, to commit murder. Or do I need to remind you what you told me last night?”
Gabriel saw again the dying guard in Chole, choking in his own blood. He looked away, unable to face the fire in Enala’s eyes. “No, you don’t need to remind me,” he took a breath and looked back. “But Eric is no innocent. He killed my family, you know this!”
“Do I? Do you? Have you given even a moment to consider everything may not have been as it seemed in Oaksville?”
“You mean that it was an accident?” he shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”
“Don’t, or won’t?” Enala asked.
Gabriel bared his teeth. “Both!” he snapped, and made to stand.
Enala was on her feet first. She shoved him backwards onto the bed, landing on top of him and pinning him flat. “You will listen to what I have to say!” she grated through clenched teeth. “Then you can go or stay, it is up to you.”
Looking into her crystal blue eyes, Gabriel almost thought he saw their colour change, tainted red by the fire of her rage. He swallowed and nodded.
Enala’s expressions softened. She released him and retreated to her bunk. “I hope you will stay though, Gabriel,” she sucked in a mouthful of air and blew out. “I need you.”
Warmth flooded Gabriel’s chest, filling him with an urge to go to her, to hold her tight. He pushed it down, determined to keep the anger in his voice. “Speak.”
Hurt spread across Enala’s face and her eyes hardened. “Very well then,” slowly, she began to repeat Eric’s story, of the first emergence of his wild magic.
Gabriel listened in shock as Enala explained Eric had lost his own parents that first night, and had then spent almost two years in self-imposed banishment, haunting the backroads of rural Plorsea. He struggled to block out Enala’s words as she spoke of Eric’s decision to begin a new life in the town of Oaksville, and her account of the slavers who had accosted him within an hour of entering the town.
He knew what was coming next, and try as he might, he heard the truth in Enala’s words.
By the time Enala finished, Gabriel was quietly sobbing to himself, torn again by the loss of his parents, his fiancée’s death.
Could it all have been an accident? He questioned himself. Could this all have been for nothing?
“Are you okay?” Enala whispered, reaching out a comforting hand.
“Leave me!” Gabriel batted away her arm. “Get out, leave me!”
Enala drew back, her eyes watering. She gave a curt nod and stood. Making her way to the door, she turned back at the last minute. “I’m sorry, Gabriel,” she murmured.
Then she was gone.
*************
Enala twirled the practice blade in her hands, taking measure of its weight. It was heavier than the weapon she’d used over the last couple of days, and much heavier than the real sword Caelin had presented her with earlier.
She smiled; its weight would be perfect for building a little more strength and speed into her strikes. Across from her, Inken grinned back.
The older woman moved to position herself in the centre of the practice field. Enala squared off against her, as she had for the last two days. So far they had kept to light sparring, but even then Enala had been hard pressed to hold her own. Inken’s reputation as a bounty hunter was obviously hard earned. She provided a much better challenge than Gabriel, and today Inken promised there would be no holding back. It would provide a good distraction from Gabriel’s continued absence.
“Try not to hurt each other too much,” Caelin joked from nearby.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Enala replied.
Inken laughed. “Confident aren’t we?” she motioned Enala forward. “Show me what you’ve got then.”
Enala shifted her feet and leapt, swinging her blade low at Inken’s elbow. Inken stepped back, bringing her own sword down to counter. Enala dodged to the side, reversing her swing to catch Inken’s blade on her own. Steel rung as the two separated.
Inken brushed hair from her face. “Very good.”
Without warning Inken struck out, her practice blade sweeping towards Enala’s head. Heart pounding, Enala blocked high, wincing at the force of the blow. Then Inken’s foot swept up to strike her in the chest. The kick sent Enala crashing to the ground.
Enala gasped but refused to stay down. She rolled backwards, coming to her feet in a single movement before Inken could follow up her attack.
“Dirty move,” Enala commented.
“No such thing in a fight to the death,” Inken replied.
They clashed again, blades ringing as they circled one another. Enala soon realised the truth of Inken’s words. The bounty hunter treated her blade as just one tool in her arsenal– she was just as likely to lash out with hand or foot as she was her sword. This was a new brand of combat for Enala. Her parents had taught her to fight, but they had never taught her to fight dirty.
Fortunately for her, Enala was a quick learner. After half an hour she began to adjust to Inken’s sudden attacks, learning how to avoid the fists and feet lashing at her. Finally, when she thought she might have a grasp of Inken’s unorthodox style, she launched a counter of her own.
Ducking beneath Inken’s swing, Enala lashed out with her foot, driving the bounty hunter backwards. Bringing up her sword, she feinted low. Inken’s blade leapt to meet it, but Enala pulled back and spun on her heel, reversing her swords cut. The blow bounced off Inken’s shoulder.
Inken cursed, pulling back, but Enala did not cease her attack. She pressed on, her sword slashing in a series of brutal swipes. Several times her weapon came within a hairs breath of contact, but Inken was no longer playing around. Lines of concentration were etched across her face, her eyes coolly studying Enala’s every movement. The air rang with the clash of metal.
Then Inken calmly swiped her blade aside and lurched forwards. Caught off-guard by the sudden counter, Enala walked straight into Inken’s head-butt.
Pain lanced from her nose, forcing her back a step. She stumbled, tripping over her own feet and toppling to the ground.
Enala gasped, tasting blood on her tongue. Rage surged through her, a burning in her chest that screamed for vengeance. It built inside her, heat spreading through her limbs until all she could see was red. Fists clenched, a low growl echoed from her throat. The sword hilt felt hot on her hand. The tension grew, building until it seemed she must explode.
“Okay, I think that’s enough for today,” Caelin interrupted, stepping between them.
Enala blinked, and the heat vanished. She looked up as Inken offered her a hand.
“Sorry about that, Enala. I got a little carried away.”
Enala nodded, wiping her arm across her face. Blood ran from her nose. Wincing, she took Inken’s hand.
Michael joined them and handed her a towel. “Here, this will help with the blood,” he leaned in for a closer inspection, reaching up with gentle fingers to test it. “Doesn’t look like she broke it. Just a little nose bleed. Keep your head down and don’t worry about messing up the towel. It should stop shortly.”
“Thank you, Michael,” she glanced across at Eric. “Let that be a lesson to you, Eric. Never mess with your girlfriend.”
Eric grinned back. “Don’t worry, I figured that one out pretty quickly. Just last week she shot a Red Dragon through both eyes.”
Enala blinked, unsure whether Eric was joking. Then again, after the fight she’d just had, she wouldn’t put anything past the bounty hunter. The woman was tough.
“Eric,” they all swung round at Gabriel’s voice. Enala’s heart sank. She had hardly seen him for two days, since she had tried to explain what Inken had told her. What he wanted now, she could only guess.
“Eric,” Gabriel said again. “Could we speak? In private?”
Eric looked from Inken to Enala, and then back to Gabriel. He frowned, uncertainty on his face, and then nodded. Gabriel waved a hand at the dormitory and the two moved off towards the building.
“To be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” Caelin muttered.
*************
Gabriel’s heart thudded in his chest as he led Eric across the field. His mouth felt dry, his tongue parched even though he’d just drunk water. His knees shook and a sick feeling twisted his stomach. He could hear Eric behind him, sense the young man’s nerves as he followed Gabriel into the dormitory.
Closing his eyes, Gabriel struggled to summon his courage. Who knew an apology could be so hard?
He hadn’t wanted to listen, hadn’t wanted to believe what Eric had told him. But he could not ignore Enala, not after everything they’d been through. It had been her courage, her innocence that freed him from the demon’s grip. If not for her, who knew what monster he would have become.
Even if she was too late, he thought. He looked at his hands, remembering the blood of the innocent man he had killed. Who am I to judge, I am no better.
He looked up at Eric, standing across the room from him. This was the one he had hunted all this time, had sworn vengeance on. Even now, a part of him wanted to lash out, to drive a sword through Eric’s chest and watch the life drain from his eyes. As he had watched his fiancée’s life drain away.
But he could not, not now.
