Forging Divinity (22 page)

“Hrm. I think it’s a good idea to make this match happen, so if you have a way to enable that, it’s probably good. Tell him you’ll help. I’ll come with you, though, and back you up in case he tries anything.”

The younger sorcerer nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Lydia. You’re the best.”

She chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’ve been itching to meet him. Have you heard anything about who he’ll be fighting?”

The sorcerer laughed. “More like ‘who haven’t I heard he’ll be fighting’. The rumors are running wild. Korin Matthews, Sophia Beaumont, Edrick Case, Velas Jaldin, maybe even Landen of the Twin Edges.”

Lydia nodded, trying to keep her face neutral. It was easier than forcing a smile.
Those are almost all Queensguard,
Lydia realized.
And some of the best. I think I’ve heard of all of them before – and Velas and Landen are both champion duelists. I’ve seen Landen fight before, at least. Maybe I can give Taelien some advice if he ends up being the opponent.

“That’s quite a list,” Lydia mused. “I wonder who they’ll end up picking.”

“Rumor has it that Edon will select the champion personally,” Veruden told her.

Lydia blinked at that. “Edon is going to be there?”

“That’s the word,” Veruden grinned. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

Lydia nodded, taking a fork of potatoes and chewing fiercely, thinking.
They won’t need to have a sorcerer in the stands to interfere,
Lydia realized.
Edon could just do it himself.

I need to be ready to counter that. But how? If I put a protection spell on Taelien before the match, it’ll work on anything – not just Edon’s interference. And they’d certainly detect it, and trace the spell back to me. That’s no good.

“How’s your hand healing?” Lydia asked absently.

Veruden winced. “Healing seems to have slowed down. Guess that ointment wasn’t quite the cure-all Sethridge told me it would be.”

Lydia nodded. “You have my sympathies. And my thanks, too – if you wouldn’t have gotten that burn, I probably would have tinkered with the sword and burned myself.”

“Better me than you, then,” he smiled. “But if I took a burn for you, you can treat me to a better meal than this sometime.”

“Deal.” Lydia grinned.

Lydia stood with Veruden near the rear entrance to the arena, both of them wearing their formal robes. She saw Taelien approaching in innocuous peasant garb, but she initially ignored him. Veruden seemed to notice Taelien a few moments later, waving with his bandaged hand.

“That’s him,” Veruden said.

The sorceress nodded to him, resting a hand on her saber as Taelien approached, trying to look overtly suspicious.

“Thank you for meeting me here,” Taelien said, reaching out with his left hand to clasp Veruden’s own uninjured hand. Veruden clasped Taelien’s hand at the wrist, smiling like he was seeing an old friend.

“Good to see you again,” Veruden said, releasing his grip on Taelien’s arm after a brief trust-testing squeeze.

“And who is this lovely creature?” Taelien asked, turning toward Lydia.

The sorceress barely resisted rolling her eyes. “Lydia Scryer,” she replied, extending a hand.

When he knelt and kissed her hand, she did roll her eyes.

Gods, what a show off.

“It is my earnest pleasure to meet you, miss Scryer,” he said.

“Good to meet you. Ready to fight?”

He stood up and nodded. “Naturally.” He turned his head toward Veruden. “Have you made the preparations I asked for? I don’t feel like walking in here just to get arrested again.”

She glanced back and forth between the two men, and then back toward Veruden.

“Don’t worry, I’ve cleared the halls up to the armory. We’ll get you geared up, and then watch you from the stands.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Didn’t bring the sword?”

Taelien quirked a brow. “I thought you still had my sword?”

Not bad, Taelien. Not bad.

Veruden frowned. “I’m not sure on that, honestly. Maybe one of the older sorcerers has it.”

Lydia shrugged. “I’m sure you can ask after the match is concluded.”

“Yes,” Taelien replied. “Of course.”

Veruden led the way into the back entrance, and true to his word, the halls were empty of guards. They passed several rooms before stopping at an unlabeled door on the right side of a long hall, which Veruden unlocked with a key. The door was directly across from another hallway. Lydia glanced down the hall, noting an open doorway at the end of it – the entrance to the arena itself.

“There should be everything you could need in here,” he said, opening the door.

“Any idea on who he’s fighting yet?” Lydia asked, hoping for any last-minute insight.

“What, and spoil the fun?” Veruden said, chuckling. “No, I haven’t heard anything. You can bet on the Queensguard, though.”

Lydia stepped in the room, holding the door open as she quickly scanned it enemies. There were no other people inside – no visible ones, at least.

“I need to go tell Edon that he’s here,” Veruden said. “Uh, Lydia, can you watch him for me?”

“Of course, I won’t let him escape,” Lydia replied with a grin.

“The match is set to start in half an hour. Someone will come get you when it’s time. Good luck.”

Veruden raised a hand to his right shoulder, giving Taelien some kind of unfamiliar salute, and then turned to leave.

So far, so good.

Lydia closed the door to the armory as Taelien stepped inside. “Dominion of Knowledge, illuminate the hidden!”

She scanned the room a second time, but nothing had changed. She breathed a sigh of relief, reaching into the pouch at her left side and retrieving a small glass mirror, which she placed on the left side of the room behind a rack of spears.

Retrieving a piece of parchment and a quill, she hastily scribbled a note and pressed it against the surface of the mirror.

At the armory. Clear so far.

She ran a finger across the mirror, following Jonan’s instructions to send the message, and then removed the piece of parchment.

“Okay,” she said, turning to Taelien, who was busy testing the weight of a sword on the opposite side of the room. “The guards should be here in just under thirty minutes. We have a brief window to plan.”

“I think our plan is fairly well-established at this point,” Taelien said. “I just need to find a good blade.”

“Everything I’ve heard has indicated you’re going up against someone from the Queensguard, which means they will likely be using a sword, a shield, and plate. You’re probably best off with either a mace and a shield or a reach weapon, like a spear or a glaive,” Lydia advised. She glanced back over at the mirror, seeing a different note showing in the surface now.

Acknowledged. I am in position in the stands
, it read.

That was quick.
She ran a finger across the mirror in the opposite direction, which would remove the frozen image of her note from Jonan’s mirror and switch to showing the room. If they were lucky, Taelien’s opponent would come into this armory next – and then Jonan would be able to see the opponent preparing and warn Lydia in advance.

Not that she could do much if Taelien had already left the armory at that point, but if Jonan observed something suspicious – like poison – Lydia knew she might have to take drastic action to save Taelien’s life.

“I’m no good with a mace and shield,” Taelien confessed. “Your logic is sound, but I think my odds are best with a weapon I am familiar with.”

“You should have brought the Sae’kes, then,” Lydia pointed out.

Taelien shook his head vehemently. “I thought you were the one who didn’t want to risk losing it.”

“Sure, but losing your life could be almost as bad,” Lydia said with a wry grin.

“I’m flattered that you think I’m worth almost as much as a sword,” Taelien said, hefting a different – much longer – sword. It was unadorned, and looked inordinately heavy.

“I think you’re worth at least twice as much as that sword,” Lydia said, pointing at the one he was carrying. “Just perhaps not quite as much as one that was forged through the collaborative effort of seven gods. I think that’s fair.”

Taelien shrugged. “I think you underestimate both me and ‘ol rusty here.” He lowered the sword’s tip to the ground, a smirk crossing his face.

Lydia narrowed her eyes. “You can’t seriously intend to use that thing. It’s huge, unwieldy, and it looks like it’s probably not even made of steel.”

“Iron,” Taelien said, tapping a finger against the pommel. “Good, reliable iron. Heavily used, but unbroken. Someone made good use of this sword once. Seems a shame to let it die on a shelf.”

“Now who’s getting overly sentimental about swords?” Lydia smirked.

But how does he know all that? Is he speaking figuratively, or is his metal dominion bond really potent enough that he can tell all that information just by touching it?

“From a practical standpoint, a lighter sword isn’t going to be able to bust plate. Sure, steel would be superior, but they do not have any heavy steel swords here. I could merge two of them together, but it would be a considerable expenditure of sorcery, and I would be playing my hand early. I would rather my opponents – both in the ring and in the crowd – not have a good idea of my capabilities until after the match begins,” Taelien explained.

Lydia nodded. “That’s a better explanation than I considered, but do you really think you can incapacitate someone in plate with a sword like that?”

“Easily,” Taelien said. “This isn’t my first bout in an arena, you know.”

“You mentioned you had sword experience, and I saw how you handled yourself with Istavan – but you never mentioned anything about fighting in a ring.”

Taelien grinned. “I’m just full of surprises.”

“You should at least put on some armor,” Lydia pointed out, gesturing at stand where well-maintained leather, chain, and plate armor were stocked.

Taelien shook his head. “No, it’ll just slow me down. If I’m fighting against an opponent who is wearing plate and using a shorter weapon than I am, I want to be mobile. I can try to out-distance him.”

“How? You’re still missing about half a leg.” She pointed at his injured leg, and then moved her hands up to her hips to glower at him.

He shook his leg in the air. “Aww, it barely stings at this point. Sure, it’d be bad if someone hit me there, but I don’t intend to get hit.”

“You’re going to be murdered if someone in plate manages to get on top of you, though,” Lydia pointed out. “That’s quite a risk.”

“I know,” Taelien grinned. “Keeps things interesting.”

Lydia sighed. “It’s been nice knowing you. Really.”

“Don’t look so grim,” Taelien put a hand on her shoulder.
He’s awfully affectionate
, she realized.
Maybe it’s a Rethri thing.
“I have this completely under control.”

Nothing to do but to try to believe him at this point.

And possibly try to cheat on his behalf, if necessary.

“We’ve got some time before the match. Do you want to spar a little?” Lydia offered.

“That sounds like fun,” Taelien said, “But I think it’s a little too late for that. I do have another idea, though.”

He walked back to the weapon rack, picking up the next sword down the line in his left hand, lifting it up and down to test the weight.

“Checking the weight of all the weapons so you can know how much effort you have to put into your parries?” Lydia guessed, intrigued.

“Something like that,” Taelien replied. “You’ll see soon enough.”

“You’re going to tease me before you potentially fight to the death?”
“Is there any better time?” Taelien grinned, setting the sword down and picking up the next one.

The Court of the Spear was a colossal coliseum, made in the times of Xixis for teams of slaves to battle to the death. The floor was unforgiving stone, gray tainted with the faded red of blood from days long gone. While the court was still used for trials by combat, such events were rare and sparsely attended.

This crowd packed the stands nearly to overflowing. The rumors of a battle involving a ‘demigod’ had spread to the far reaches of the city, igniting the local imagination in a way that no simple court battle could.

And, of course, it was a rare opportunity to gaze up on Edon himself – the God of Ascension. Edon stood on a flat, raised platform, overlooking the stands and arena. Even high above, he cast an air of majesty that even Lydia could not refute. His bright blue robes were trimmed with silver, and his brown hair pulled back into an elegant pony tail. On his right hand, he wore a ring inlaid with a transparent crystal that glittered in the dawnfire’s light. Only his eyes showed any hint of his age – no gray touched his hair, and only the faintest smile lines marked his face.

King of Orlyn’s ‘gods’, what are you playing at?

Lydia took her seat next to Veruden. The two of them had a box to themselves – one of the benefits of being among the highest ranking officials in the city.