by Steven Drake
“You dare to lecture me, to mock my feelings, to insult the honor of our kingdom? I would give Mirisa everything she could ever want. I would make her a queen, and set her above all others, like a goddess amongst mortals. Instead, my brother whispers his madness to her, poisons her mind against me.” Zandrek spat at Zitane’s feet. “This is all your doing. You have found this mercenary to fight your battles for you. I will no longer play your games, brother.” Zandrek sheathed his sword. The elf woman glared at him with undisguised disgust, but she was not yet ready to turn against him outright. At best, she would refuse to participate. The battle would be only slightly less bloody. Darien had to act quickly, had to rouse Zandrek’s anger.
“Are you really such a coward? Your brother would have held his head high while you ran him through, and you would refuse a challenge that would spare many lives? Your father seems to have chosen his heir rather poorly. Your brother would make a far better king.” Zandrek turned, his face contorted in fury, his eyes burned with rage. Darien grinned at the blond-haired elf. He knew at once he had succeeded.
The next move caught Darien off guard, and nearly ended him. He felt a sudden and powerful surge of magic from Zandrek, realizing in an instant why Miri had never been able to beat her brother sparring. He was using augmentation. The glittering mail armor must have suppressed his aura, or he had been given abilities through darker means. Zandrek drew his blades quick as a flicker of light, then in a single motion, launched himself in an attack. The elf covered the distance between them so suddenly that there was barely time to react.
Darien had been caught unprepared for the sudden speed of this attack, and just barely managed to block the first slice aimed at his ear. The second blow, a thrusting strike from Zandrek’s off hand, was aimed at his stomach. Darien moved sideways just quickly enough to avoid a fatal blow, but the thrust tore a gash in the flesh of his left side and sent a streamer of blood out behind him. Darien heard Miri scream, but was too focused on his opponent to pay her any attention. That had been too close. Darien leapt back several yards, expecting a follow up, but none came.
Rather than press the attack, Zandrek smirked. “Not so confident now, are you.” The fool is actually stopping to gloat, Darien thought. He might have had me if he’d pressed his advantage, instead he has to satisfy his vanity. I wasn’t expecting to face another mage. He’s good, too. He’s been taught well, but he has no idea what he’s up against. A Shade would never stop to gloat.
“On the contrary, fool. You revealed your strength at the beginning of the battle, and then wasted your best chance at victory so you could boast. I won’t be caught off guard a second time.” Zandrek’s face hardened as Darien drew another, slightly shorter sword from his other hip. Fighting Zandrek with the same style would make the show that much more believable.
Zandrek charged again, but this time Darien was prepared. Without the element of surprise, the elf prince had no chance. Assuming a defensive posture, Darien parried both Zandrek’s dual attacks. Unlike his sister, who balanced offense and defense, Zandrek seemed to favor quick, furious repeated attacks, probably a consequence of overconfidence, the ultimate result of too many easy victories against non-magical opponents. Darien kept his posture defensive as he studied his opponent. The elf prince possessed some talent. He was fast, sharp, and every move was executed with sufficient force. His form was nearly perfect. Darien could understand why Zandrek was so respected as a fighter. His greatest advantage was speed. He moved faster than Rana, faster than many Shades. However, fast and skilled though he was, his fighting style betrayed his lack of practical experience. The elf prince made his moves too predictable, too precise, too perfect. He followed well established forms, and repeated the same attack sequences from the same positions with almost no deviation. Zandrek lacked the creativity of his sister, and the resourcefulness that comes from real experience, life or death combat.
Darien moved gracefully, blocking one blow, parrying the next, saving his energy, economizing his motion. After being caught unprepared once, the former Shade opted for a cautious approach. He felt confident this elf prince probably had no other tricks, but wanted to leave nothing to chance. As time passed, Zandrek started to slow. The elf prince left more openings as he fought more frantically. Zandrek’s anger and frustration started to show. Darien thought about ending the battle, but then got a better idea.
If he could somehow show Zandrek was using magic, it would damage the prince in the eyes of his magic fearing soldiers, many of whom had shown signs of displeasure with their captain. Darien started to back away with each block. He moved just slightly more slowly, blocked each blow later, and exaggerated his breathing. Zandrek quickly took the bait, mistaking the feints for signs of fatigue. The elf prince pushed forward ever more aggressively, while Darien continued leading him on, backing more swiftly away, toward a nearby stand of pine trees. Darien finally backed straight into a medium sized tree, perhaps six inches thick at the base, not large, but large enough to make his point. Now he just needed Zandrek to make the proper strike.
Darien staggered to his left just beside the tree trunk, but kept his swords in position to block a blow to his right or an overhead strike, while stealthily placing his back foot against the pine tree. Zandrek predictably followed through, and grinned a wicked smile as he aimed a horizontal slash meant to rip Darien in half. Darien pivoted off the tree trunk however, and launched himself in the air several yards, clearing both the elf prince and his strike. Darien landed on his feet behind Zandrek and turned just in time to see Zandrek’s blade slice cleanly through the tree trunk
The elf prince paused momentarily in bewilderment, and Darien aimed a kick squarely in the elf’s back. The blow connected and Zandrek slammed into the now severed trunk of the tree, which began to fall away from him. Just as the tree started to topple, Darien rammed one of his swords through Zandrek’s shoulder just beneath the collarbone and into the tree trunk. The falling tree pulled the elf prince forward, and he fell over the stump, howling in agony. The tree fell, and settled on the ground, with the elf prince pinned on top of it, unable to move without injuring himself further.
Darien smiled as he realized that the plan had succeeded brilliantly. He turned back to speak to Zitane, but instead saw an overjoyed Miri running at him. Before he had time to protest, or even register what was happening, Miri threw her arms around him and squeezed. She looked up with a mixture of joy and relief, tears glistening in her eyes.
“Darien, thank goodness. You were injured, I thought you would die.” Miri’s hand quickly ran down to the wound he had sustained. She pushed her hand inside his shirt, found the torn flesh, and immediately loosed her magic. “It’s not bad. I’ll be able to mend it quickly. Just hold still.”
Darien stared over Miri’s head to see Garok’s broad, toothy grin. What is he smiling about? Then the embarrassment of being treated in full view of everyone suddenly struck him. Everyone was staring at the scene, many with smirks that suggested they believed he and Miri really were engaged, including the stern commander. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Darien actually had to stop himself from turning red out of embarrassment. The shallow slash wound barely constituted a scrape compared to many of his past injuries, and indeed, he had hardly noticed it. “Miri, I’m fine really. There’s no need for that.” She looked up and frowned, and Darien immediately realized he should not have said that. “But thank you. It already feels much better.” Fortunately, that seemed to stay her wrath.
While Miri continued her ministrations, the stern elf commander walked over, and addressed them.
“Congratulations, stranger. I suppose it’s time I formally introduce myself. I am Elira Valtar, Captain of the Order of the Falling Leaves.” Miri released Darien, and stood beside him. Darien extended a hand and Elira took it and shook firmly. “I will come straight to the point. I have watched many duels, and I have fought in several battles, but I’ve never seen anything like what I just witness
ed. I’ve trained with Zandrek many years, and I’ve never seen him move that fast, and to cut down a tree with a sword, in a single strike. Explain this.”
“It is a type of magic, called augmentation,” Darien explained. The woman frowned, but didn’t seem entirely surprised. “Zandrek was using it to enhance his speed and strength. The blade he was using probably had an enchantment as well. An ordinary blade, wielded by an ordinary swordsman, would not be capable of that.”
“So, it is magic.” Elira shook her head. “I suppose you were using it as well.”
“I come from the lands far to the east, beyond the forest and across the desert. Where I come from, magic is fairly common in elves, and I confess to being surprised to find an entire kingdom of elves with no magic whatsoever.” Darien turned and sighed. “Your prince has learned it from someone, and I believe I have an idea who, but I will not speak of that openly.” Elira nodded her agreement. “My concern at this moment is your soldiers. They will follow your orders?”
“Yes. I insisted on coming on this expedition. I did not trust Zandrek’s motives, or, frankly, his competence. I do not throw away the lives of my soldiers needlessly. This is just another example of his foolishness. I suppose I should thank you for goading him into this. After seeing that fight, I gather your threats of many casualties were not idle boasts.”
“They were not, nor was what you saw the extent of my ability. I refrained from using my more… conspicuous magic. After all, this was a duel of honor. It would have seemed rather unfair, so I confined myself to matching my opponent’s cheating.”
“I still haven’t heard your name, stranger,” Elira asked.
“My name is Darien, and I have no family name. I am no one important.”
“I doubt that is true,” Elira countered. She then turned and raised her hands. “Soldiers of Catarina. Prince Zandrek has lost honorably in single combat. Make camp no less than a hundred yards outside the city walls, and await further orders.” The soldiers then rode off, some gladly and others reluctantly, but all did leave.
A soft whimpering could be heard coming from the elf prince who was still pinned to the tree, too frightened and pained to move. Pathetic creature, such a waste of magical talent. After his initial strike, he never posed a serious threat. Zandrek was doomed from the moment he stopped to gloat. Zitane walked up, and stared at his brother, pinned to the tree.
“As much trouble as he’s caused us, I still hate seeing my brother this way.”
“What should we do with him?” Darien asked.
“We will have to let him go, eventually,” Zitane replied. “If we keep him prisoner, more will come looking for him. This way, he’s lost, and his standing at court will diminish. Perhaps father will finally see his villainy.”
“I would not count on that, Prince Zitane,” Elira said. “The King has deteriorated much more quickly since you left. He is now a shadow of the man he once was. Whatever Zandrek has been caught up in, I fear the King has been corrupted as well.” Elira shook her head and turned to Darien again. “You said you knew the men he sent to capture Mirisa.”
“This will not be easy for you to hear,” Darien said darkly. “I would prefer a more private setting.”
“Very well. We have much to discuss.” Elira turned once again to Zitane. “Prince Zitane, there are things we must discuss. Much has changed in the years since you left, and not for the better. What I have learned here today only confirms what I already suspected. Catarina is in danger, and someone must stand for our people.”
Zitane shut his eyes and grimaced. “I’ll listen to what you have to say, but when I left, I laid aside all claim to the throne.” Zitane seemed surprisingly reluctant, given his earlier words. The entire plan had been dependent upon Zandrek’s unpopularity, so this should be no surprise. It was only logical that the soldiers would look to the next in line for the throne to avert the disastrous rule of a complete imbecile. There had to be reasons for Zitane’s reluctance, perhaps his own meek character, but then perhaps he could overcome that. “Let’s just deal with the present situation. I won’t kill my brother. Can he be held, or will he be able to use magic to escape?”
“Shackles that suppress magic can be made, but the enchantments are complicated. I don’t have the time, or the materials, but I don’t think we need anything that complicated.” Darien scratched his chin and moved to stand over Zandrek, who froze in fear. “Magic, like any tool, is limited by the skill of the wielder. I suspect his knowledge of magic is limited to what we saw today. If he had other abilities, I think he would have used them. Bind his hands and feet with strong metal chain, the strongest and heaviest you can find. Search him thoroughly. Take his armor, his clothes, everything, so that I can inspect it, and have Kellan leave him in a cell, chained to the wall in at least two places, under guard, never fewer than two men at once. I doubt he is much of a threat in his present condition, but better to be cautious.”
Darien waited for Kellan and some men to return with metal chains. They took his advice literally, as the chain they brought was massive, with steel thick as a man’s finger curled into links half the size of a man’s hand. It looked like something that might serve as an anchor for a river vessel. Darien couldn’t imagine how the people of Exire used it but thought it more than sufficient to keep Zandrek from escaping.
When they were ready, Darien reached down and pulled the sword cleanly from Zandrek, then wiped it on the floor of pine needles and rolled the prince onto his back. The elf prince looked beyond shocked. Completely and utterly defeated were the words that occurred to the Executioner. There would have to be an interrogation, but he guessed that the haughty elf prince would crack fairly easily. He looked halfway to cracking already.
As they led Zandrek away, Zitane pulled Darien aside and spoke in hushed tones. “We need to keep up the ruse that you and Miri are promised to each other. I’ll have someone trustworthy bring her things to your… house, cave, den, whatever you call it.”
“Her things? What?” He turned over to look at Miri, and she turned pink and then stared at the ground.
“Oh that’s right, you wouldn’t know that would you,” Zitane chuckled, entirely too amused. “For our people, being engaged isn’t all that different from being married. Usually people only take the vows after they’ve been living together for several weeks, even months. The official marriage just recognizes the binding.”
“Wait, living together? Then what is the marriage for anyway?”
“The marriage has more to do with the legal union of the two families. There are rules about dowries, names, inheritances. I didn’t really have time to explain the laws and customs of my people. Would you rather have fought them all?” Darien thought for a moment and realized Zitane made a fair point. It would be inconvenient and more than a little uncomfortable, but it was better than the carnage of an actual battle, or having Miri taken by that idiot. “Anyway, it’s just until I can get rid of Elira and the others. Then everything goes back to normal.”
“Yes, you’re right of course. Do whatever is necessary.”
Darien gathered from the tone of the conversation that Zitane didn’t intend for the arrangement to last long. He clearly did not intend to oppose his brother. Would his attitude change when he learned how deeply Zandrek was involved with the Shades? Zandrek’s magic suggested a deeper relationship than simply hiring them as would-be kidnappers. They would not give him power unless it were in exchange for something of significant value, and it would come with a price. Darien felt certain that the Shades were manipulating the elf prince, but the question was how, and why. Much would depend on the interrogation. The next few hours would be strained, for all involved.
Chapter 25: The Interrogation
Mirisa felt numb as she watched the gruff men of Exire chain up the Crown Prince of Catarina. The wound in his shoulder bled slowly, leaking crimson onto his immaculate silver mail and white clothes. As gruesome as it looked, Mirisa knew Zandrek would live, even if
she refused to use her healing gifts. Miri understood that the strike had been aimed precisely to avoid hitting any major arteries or internal organs. Darien could have killed Zandrek, but chose instead to humiliate him. It made sense for Zitane’s plan. Killing the prince would have risked igniting the battle they had been trying to avoid. Still, in some dark corner of her mind, Mirisa knew that Zandrek’s death would have troubled her little.
She hovered a half step behind Darien, watching him. His raven hair twitched in the breeze, but otherwise, he remained completely still, utterly calm, wearing an undisturbed expression to match the cloudless sky. Elira spoke to Zitane in hushed tones but Miri had no interest at that moment. She had so many emotions to express; relief, gratitude, shock, admiration, and more. At the moment though, no words came, so she simply stared quietly and silently. Miri’s eyes strayed to Darien’s hand, hanging at his side. She wanted to reach out, to take his hand and squeeze, not much, just to show some small measure of thanks, but something stopped her, some intangible shadow of fear that lingered at the edge of her conscious mind, a fear of getting too close to a man who worked so hard to push others away. Instead, she bit her lower lip and clasped her hands behind her back.
Lost in her own swirling emotions, Mirisa followed Darien and the others absent-mindedly as Kellan led a still whimpering Zandrek through the city gates to the jail. Kellan and Zitane deposited the prince in the same cell where Norin had been held a few weeks before. Zitane, Kellen, Darien, Elira, and one of her lieutenants gathered around the small desk at the front of the jail. All stood, except for Darien, who leaned lazily against the wall.
“Now that we’re in private,” Elira broke the silence. “Sir Darien, was it? You said you knew something about how Zandrek learned magic.”
