Silverstone

by C E Johnson

  The half-deads aren’t attacking, Xena marveled as they ran. The other shades, goblins, and were-creatures had paused in their assault to gaze in awe at the majesty of the conflict. Emily quickly realized the half-deads lived for these duals. They called them blade trials. Horns continued to ring out in the night as more half-deads were called to witness the battle. Anna, Isabelle, and Elizabeth were ignored for the time being. They were together on a small rise. The drums droned on with their deep rumble marking time as the combatants sliced and struck. Overhand, underhand, slash, parry, sang the song in time to the instruments around them. Laughter began to drift from the gathered creatures as Wuldur began to get the upper hand.

  “I’m here!” Emily called to Luke as she pushed her way forward daring to enter the circle of half-deads watching the battle. She wasn’t going to watch him die and do nothing.

  “You will not intrude on their fight!” A female vampire snarled as her voice rolled out a deadly challenge to Emily above the annoyed mutterings of the half-deads watching the battle. It was Kirbee. Her golden hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. She was young, unnaturally deadly, and beautiful all at once.

  “Kirbee, leave them both to me!” Wuldur thundered. He suffered a slice to his forearm from Luke’s blade as he was momentarily distracted, but he quickly refocused.

  “She’s mine,” Kirbee retorted. Her face was tightly drawn with anger. She defiantly ignored Wuldur. The snow crunched loudly under her boots as she stepped confidently toward Emily and a new arena was created by the half-deads.

  They’re boxing me in, Xena growled, I won’t be able to help you. The Doberman stood still as a dark statue as an entire pack of were-creatures surrounded her. They weren’t attacking her, but they were making sure she wouldn’t attempt to engage Kirbee from behind while Kirbee was focused on the impending contest. Emily saw a similar cluster not far from Xena, and she realized Rune was also boxed in, unable to give Luke assistance.

  “Throw me my sword,” Emily called to Elizabeth who was watching with fear plain on her face. Elizabeth had her bow in her hand with an arrow nocked, aimed at Kirbee. No, Emily mouthed to her. She didn’t want Elizabeth to stop the challenge because otherwise they would all be instantly overrun. The half-deads appeared to respect these blade trials with something akin to worship. Elizabeth’s back was against Isabelle and Anna’s backs. They had taken up a defensive position with Lia and Soane close by.

  “Are you sure, Em?” Elizabeth shouted in question. Her delicate features were smeared with blood. “We can fight to the end,” she cried out. The surrounding half-deads roared with laughter slapping each other on the backs with many nearly falling into the snow.

  Emily peered around her at the growing number of the strong and tenacious creatures. There was no way out of this fight. “Throw it to me, Little Bit,” she called back hoping to put steel in her words. Elizabeth gave a brave nod. Setting down her bow, she jumped off the little hill she was on. Darting into a nearby tent, she emerged with Emily’s weapon. Emily’s sword was also obtained by Dr. D. He had explained to her that it was made by Ono Yoshimitsu, the greatest of the modern Japanese sword smiths. The sword was a slender blade with a golden hilt and a gentle taper. Elizabeth brought it to Emily.

  “Good luck,” Elizabeth said with a sob. Blinking back tears, she threw her arms around Emily’s neck. She didn’t attempt to hide the trembling fear that was shaking her body.

  Emily’s strong right hand curled in a vise around the hilt of her sword and she whispered to Elizabeth as she disengaged from her, “If Luke and I lose, attempt to run into the swamps and try to escape in the chaos. Lia will guide you.” Elizabeth gave Emily a small nod. After Emily kissed her cheek gently, Elizabeth backed away and ran back to her position with soft footsteps flying over snow. She only stopped moving when she was back in her poised battle posture with Anna and Isabelle.

  “To the death!” Kirbee called out, bristling with anticipation. The half-deads roared their approval. Emily automatically fell into her fencing stance. Kirbee advanced and two began to trade blows testing skill levels and preferences. Steam rose from Emily’s breath as she settled into the deadly rhythm.

  “Kill her!” Isabelle shouted angrily from her position with Anna and Elizabeth. They were completely ignored for the time being as all the half-deads and magicians were focused on the two sword battles. This was art. A competition of ferocity, power, and intensity arose amidst the falling ash. The surrounding half-deads gaped in amazement because above all else, the use of skill and swords was majesty to the undead. They were now in church, and the sermon was steel.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Emily could see a change in Luke’s battle. There was a panicked desperation forming in Luke’s eyes that she had never seen in one of his battles. Wuldur was going through an offensive series of moves, and Luke’s energy was obviously waning. Wuldur’s sword was unreal, his strength without equal. Emily feared their battle would be over soon.

  “Don’t you dare watch their battle!” Kirbee thundered as she fairly danced over the ground, redoubling her attacks. Emily could see hundreds of assimilations in her movements. Steel crashed into steel time and again as the snow churned and swirled about their position. “Focus on me or you will die without giving me any challenge at all!” Emily quickly realized Kirbee was right. The vampire was more skilled than she could imagine. She put a renewed emphasis on focusing every fiber of her being on Kirbee, but she could tell the vampire was playing with her. There was something both elegant and deadly about the vampire as she moved forward and back before Emily, darting and prowling like a beast alive. Emily knew magic didn’t work well on half-deads, and she didn’t want to diminish her concentration as she fought so she didn’t attempt any magic. Thrust, block, cut, lunge, parry, the moves rang out in Emily’s mind as her ki anticipated strategies and movements and suggested attacks. Her hand began to grow stiff, and small cuts were streaming blood as Kirbee showed unbelievable skill. The snow beneath them was soon stained red as it drank their blood and froze it into crimson crystals. Hack, strike, above, below, Emily continued to fight at a faster and faster pace until her breath was hammering in and out of her chest. She found a growing grudging respect for Kirbee and she could tell Kirbee felt the same way about her. Somehow, they were learning facets of each other’s personalities more rapidly than engaging in scores of conversations as they fought. Swordplay was life. Why does one of us have to die? Emily wondered. She twisted and turned feeling a hole developing in the center of her heart as she realized she didn’t really want this contest to end. Was this Shadoe’s teachings becoming infused in her being?

  Luke doesn’t have much longer, Xena whispered with just enough despair to catch Emily’s attention and distract her.

  Slash. Kirbee scored a savage cut on her arm, and pain lanced up her neck causing her to wince as the deadly blade sheared through her leather armor.

  She’s good, Emily worried to Xena, her voice a faint whisper. I don’t think I can beat her. She’s assimilated too many souls. Tremors of fear and desperation shook her as she fought harder and harder. Knots of aching pain were everywhere within her. All of her muscles were protesting her demands in agony. Sweat and blood ran in rivulets down her face as a faint, satisfied smile formed on Kirbee’s lips. The surrounding half-deads, eyes glittering with anger and hate, inched closer. They began banging swords on shields in time with the drums, and the beat was powerful and hypnotic. Sensing her advantage, Kirbee seized upon it and she became a whirlwind moving with increasing strength and speed. Emily fought stubbornly, but her skill was slipping away, and her body was becoming numb. Cheers burst from the onlookers as Emily backed up a step, barely absorbing the shock of a savage blow which jarred her mind and her teeth. Fear swirled in her mind stronger than the falling snow.

  Use your gymnastic moves, Xena urged. She won’t have encountered them. Now. Before it’s too late!

  Emily realized Xena was right. It was now or never. She do
dged a low slice by Kirbee before using the final remnants of her energy to launch herself into a flip in the air. She descended from her newfound height in what felt like slow motion. Unbelievably, she was able to twist just enough to bring her boot down on the volar surface of Kirbee’s arm. As the sole of her boot connected with skin, she kicked especially hard on Kirbee’s wrist. The action brought a scream of pain from the vampire, and her sword flew from her grasp. Emily’s own sword moved as quick as lightning until the blade tip was positioned just over Kirbee’s throat. Although the steel had become as heavy a weight as gold in her hand, she held it firmly.

  Kill her! Xena growled.

  No! Emily choked out through her mind-link. I know I should end her rapidly and help Luke, but I don’t want to kill her, Z. Her thoughts were chaotic as she debated what to do.

  Then bargain with Wuldur, Xena urged loudly.

  Bargain? Emily asked. She continued to hold her hand steady while listening to her bondsmate, but she was growing so weary.

  Bargain, Xena repeated. I noticed him watching your fight intently even while battling Luke. Realization dawned in Emily’s mind. There was fear and panic in his eyes when he watched Kirbee taking injuries, Xena added.

  “Stop your fight!” Emily shouted to Wuldur. Luke staggered backwards away from the shade. He was moments from death, but he was still upright. The surrounding half-deads didn’t speak. The world became silence. Wuldur’s silver eyes studied Emily’s sword hovering just over Kirbee’s jugular and he lowered the tip of his own weapon.

  “Name your price,” Wuldur thundered in a voice laden with iron and steel. He drove the tip of his weapon into the ground and folded his muscle-bound arms over his chest. Again, Emily’s eyes were drawn to his weapon. For the first time, she noticed a silverstone embedded in the hilt of his sword. The deadly weapon swayed back and forth ever so slightly in the snow. The stone shimmered brighter than polished metal in the light. It glimmered brilliantly with a faint aura like a sheet of pure silver. The stone was like the glass of a still lake with secrets untold hidden in the infinite depths beneath its pure surface. Emily could feel the power emanating from the magestone, and although the mechanics were beyond her comprehension, she instantly knew it was the fifth stone in her set.

  We must have that stone, Xena whispered urgently while also swiveling her head from the stone to study the assembled half-deads who stood unmoving in the chill air. We also require a dragon-oath from everyone in his army … we may need his forces in the future.

  Wouldn’t it cause conflicts? Emily asked Xena as she eyed the magestone in the hilt hungrily. Can half-deads even make dragon-oaths?

  We will have to deal with all of these questions at a later time, Xena countered. There was a worry in Xena’s voice that Emily hadn’t heard before. Emily realized just how close she had been to dying. How close she still was to dying. They had to play this perfectly.

  “A dragon-oath from you and everyone in your retinue along with the sword at your feet,” Emily said, trying to put equal iron in her own tone.

  “Kill the boy, kill her!” Kirbee growled. “Don’t give up our entire army for me.” She sounded angry, but Emily could sense the amazement, and hope, in her voice.

  Likewise, Emily couldn’t believe the power of their love. Could their devotion change this battle, this war, Emily wondered.

  Both Kirbee and Wuldur are learning the meaning of sacrifice, Xena whispered while listening intently to Kirbee. However, I hear something else hidden deep within Kirbee, Xena added mysteriously. There are plans within plans here.

  “I am beholden to Iscar as a result of a directive from my creator, Samil,” Wuldur began thoughtfully as he addressed Emily. “There may be conflicts that are beyond my comprehension if I give you my dragon-oath.” He glanced again at Emily’s sword-tip which was now vibrating slightly in her trembling hand. “Already my allowing your survival will have effects on me as I was instructed to ensure your demise. I may be cursed by this action.” He glanced at his warriors who were staring at him grumbling quietly. “I’m not even sure what will happen if my troops give you dragon-oaths. We’re half-deads.”

  “Can you just attempt to put my desires first?” Emily asked hopefully after clearing the lump in her throat. The wind swirled with newfound power carrying an icy cold that threatened to freeze her in place. “Perhaps what I want and what Iscar wants can somehow be fused.”

  “We shall see,” Wuldur answered succinctly.

  “Give me your oath,” she repeated firmly. The sweat on her body was beginning to turn to ice, and her arm was throbbing where it had taken the bite of Kirbee’s steel. Wuldur knelt and gave his oath. Emily could feel the crackle of his silver magic fusing with her own. Something mysterious was happening. She wasn’t sure of its strength, but the oath was magically forming into existence. Kirbee was next and then each of his army, including the magicians that were once bound by dragon-oaths under Milo’s command. “Are any other forces searching for me?” she asked when it was done.

  Wuldur nodded. “Doeg and Delores, the red magicians, are marching their forces from Austin. Their army grows as they travel. I’m sure they will confront you in New Orleans.”

  Emily was too tired to think anymore. She ordered Wuldur and his forces away. “Go back to Iscar and Drogor. Serve them and gain knowledge for me. I may need your help in the future.”

  Wuldur gave a deep bow and went. Kirbee stayed for a moment. She glanced back at Emily and Emily was proud to see something other than anger and hate in her eyes. Was it respect? Kirbee inclined her head to Emily and then she was also gone.

  Xena, follow them, Emily urged on impulse. Let me hear what they say. Watch them.

  Listening to the conversation of the shade and vampire, Xena stealthily padded through the woods close to Kirbee and Wuldur. Wuldur spoke first, “How did you lose to her? You’re a master with the sword and she’s weak and wounded.”

  Kirbee slid her arms around Wuldur’s neck and pressed herself against him. She gave him a long kiss before pulling her head back gracefully. “As I fought, I debated if I would rather be bound to the dark one, or to this girl.” Kirbee hesitated before completing her thought. “I decided being beholden to Emily might be better for us in the long run.”

  “You lost on purpose?” Wuldur whispered in amazement. “You could have beaten her?”

  “My assimilations spoke to me in a way they never had before,” Kirbee answered him quietly. “Perhaps it’s the elves I’ve killed talking to me. Whatever it was, my evolving self worries about Drogor. I wanted to give us options.”

  After that, they walked out of range of Xena’s hearing. Emily couldn’t understand what it all meant. In a daze, she stumbled to her new sword in the snow. As her hand touched the hilt, she gasped as raw energy flowed into her arm. Closing her eyes, she experienced a series of flashbacks. She could see the moment she had touched each of her treasures. Her magestones flared to life and spoke to her of power and strength. They whispered to her of one last stone, a goldstone. Emily gasped as she could suddenly picture it spinning on a table in front of Iscar. She felt a burning desire within her to have the final stone, stronger than anything she had ever felt before. Involuntarily, she began to move toward the east.

  Let it go, Xena whispered. We will complete the magestone set another day.

  Emily stopped with a sigh. She nodded to her bondsmate. Then her friends were suddenly upon her, hugging her, kissing her. They went to the nearest tent as one, and Emily collapsed onto a bedroll. Isabelle was just as tired as she was, and she dropped onto the covers with Emily, almost asleep when she hit the blankets. Luke, Anna, and Elizabeth were instantly at their sides.

  “You were incredible, Em.” Luke kissed Emily on her cheek. “You saved me. I thought I could beat him, but Wuldur is better than me. He’s an incredible swordsman.”

  Emily gave him a weak smile, still wondering if she had truly won. “I’ll heal your wounds if you heal mine,” she said te
nderly. She exposed the nasty cut on her arm to Luke, and closing his eyes, he whispered the words of his incantation to mend her muscles and fascia. Emily in turn cast her own spell to cure his injuries.

  “I don’t know how you do all that you do,” Elizabeth said in a low voice. She rolled away from them, going to her journal. She began writing notes furiously.

  “Are you writing about our battle?” Emily asked wearily.

  “Someday I’m going to write your story … about your adventures,” Elizabeth said with a pert nod.

  “No one will read it,” Isabelle bantered in a weak teasing voice. “Catherine Elizabeth Johnson, an author. I won’t read it.”

  “I’ll read it, Elizabeth,” Luke promised with an earnest love hanging in the air that was pure and simple.

  “I wonder if anyone will even care about all we’ve done,” Anna began quietly. “I mean, so few people even know what’s going on. The world is in chaos. Morality is lost. So many people live for the minute without an underlying basis to their actions.” She cast her own healing spell to help Luke with Emily’s lacerations.

  “We’re different,” Elizabeth countered, closing her journal. She moved next to Anna and Luke. Casting her own incantation, she helped heal Emily and refresh Isabelle. “We’ve seen the best and the worst of two worlds.” Regarding their group with her crystal blue eyes, she pulled her golden hair back into a ponytail. “I want to keep living by a higher purpose.” She looked at each of them in turn. “I think everyone’s goal should be to get to the afterlight. You remember what Ammolite taught us.”

  “I like that, Little Bit,” Emily murmured. She felt so tired all of a sudden. Milo’s consciousness was like a surging river behind a dam. It wanted to merge with her, but she didn’t really want to accept his gifts. There was an evil in him that scared her.