Stealing Sorcery (51 page)

What’s he using? Motion sorcery? Blade sorcery? Some combination of the two?

I need to focus. What can I use?

As the Sae’kes parried the next stroke, he felt the non-metal blade and the surrounding flames, imprinting them in his mind. He sensed that the blades were composed of something similar to what Keldyn had used. The flames were distinct – they were neither true flame nor raw heat, but he sensed a familiarity within him, something akin to the dominion that pulsed in his blood.

As the next blade approached, he pressed the Sae’kes against it, caressing the flame within his mind – and through it, sensing its counterparts.

Consume the blades within.

The flames obeyed his command – and the floating swords melted into nothingness.

Taelien smirked, pushing himself awkwardly to his feet.

The Wandering War let out a deep laugh, lowering his sword to softly clap his hands. “Splendid. I knew I sensed a kinship within you – I will be interested to see how deep that runs.”

Taelien shifted the blade of his sword to his left side, facing away from him, allowing it to hover near the sheath. The Aayaran Instant Striking Stance was Lydia’s favorite technique, employed to end duels in a single stroke.

It was not Taelien’s favored style; however, it was one of few he could manage when he was barely capable of standing.

I still don’t know exactly what his skill set is, or even exactly what I just did – I can’t afford to let him get within striking range.

The Wandering War moved forward purposefully, still ten yards distant…and then five…still far outside of sword reach.

But not outside of the reach of another weapon.

Chain.

The Sae’kes’ blade shifted in shape, the portion near the hilt shifting into a long chain, while the last foot of the sword remained a deadly blade.

He moved to swing the chain into motion even as the weapon was transforming, lashing out like a whip, while the Wandering War calmly lowered his own weapon into a parry.

The chain wrapped around the Wandering War’s blade, and Taelien sensed true metal – as well as the presence of foreign dominions within that metal.

Shatter,
he commanded the rune-etched sword, but it did not respond to his command. This was no surprise – he had seen the same effect when he had attempted a similar tactic with the Heartlance. Fortunately, this time he had a fallback plan.

Wrap.

He commanded his own sword, not the enemy blade – and the length of chain that had caught the Wandering War’s sword began to flatten and expand across the surface, encapsulating it in a shell that Taelien
could
affect.

The Wandering War shifted his grip, attempting to pull Taelien toward him, but Taelien braced with his good leg and held fast.

Laughing again, the Wandering War released his grip on his own sword – and it vanished into nothingness.

As Taelien’s chain-blade fell to the dirt, the Wandering War’s sword reappeared in his hands.

Shit. That’s – rather unfair.

Return.

The chain retracted, shifting back into the usual form of the Sae’kes’ blade. Only four of the runes were glowing on the surface. The swordsman grimaced. I suppose it’s time to take this a little bit more seriously.

Taelien passed the blade to his left hand, closing his eyes and concentrating, feeling his essence flow toward the blade. When his eyes reopened, all seven runes glowed brightly on the surface.

Well,
he cracked a smile,
it looks like the gods are finally on my side.

“Interesting.” The Wandering War tilted his head to the side. “I had been informed you were not capable of doing that.”

“I try not to let my enemies know every little detail.”

Taelien shifted into a high stance, the Sae’lien Slaying Style. With his opponent in a similar stance, their next exchange was likely to be deadly – but he could see little alternative. Defensive fighting had put him at a continuous disadvantage, and his strength was rapidly waning. Now that the Wandering War had seen him use the Instant Striking Style, it was unlikely to work again.

I need to know what I’m up against here – I can’t devise better tactics without better information.

“So, before I, you know, cut you in half, it seems prudent for me to ask why you’ve been murdering the other paladin candidates. My paperwork is going to be a nightmare.”

The Wandering War paused in his approach, folding his arms. “Is that what you wish to speak of? Truly? Your concerns are for the fallen?”

“That would be my principal reason for being here, yes.”

The cloaked figure tilted his head to the side. “I had hoped you had anticipated this conflict with as much desire as I, but perhaps it was vain of me to hope. As for your question, I was but a mere observer in the massacre that occurred a moment ago. I draw so little strength from treachery that it is of no consequence.”

Taelien frowned. Well, at least I’ve got him talking.
Maybe I should cauterize this wound while I have a second.

Or, on second thought, resh that idea. I’m never doing that again.

“Even if you simply observed, you’re still responsible for the deaths of those people. Why?”

The Wandering War shrugged. “I simply do as I am commanded by he who brought me to this world.”

He who brought me to this –

Oh, fuck me. His title is literal.

He’s a Harvester of War.

“And who summoned you, then?”

The Wandering War laughed again, shaking his head. “You are in no position to demand such an answer, cousin. Now, if this talk has been sufficient for you, shall we bask in the joyous harmony of our blades?”

“Yeah, we could…do that.”

He narrowed his eyes.

I probably could have found a more poetic retort than that.

The harvester rushed forward, leading with a heavy downward cut.

Taelien answered by sidestepping to the left, though the shift in his weight sent a fresh surge of agony through his leg, and bringing his blade down toward the Wandering War’s leading arm. War released that arm from the hilt of his weapon, shifting it around Taelien’s swing and opening his palm, sending a blast of blue-green fire toward Taelien’s chest.

The flames never came close to touching him.

Fade,
he commanded, and they obeyed. Stepping forward – directly onto the harvester’s trailing cloak – Taelien pulled back his left hand and punched the harvester in the face.

The impact was solid, but the harvester only laughed as he fell back.

"Your attempts to use sophisticated combat techniques amuse me, but ultimately they are pointless. I am war. I am implacable. No amount of tactical acumen will allow you to harm me.”

"I think you're overstating yourself a bit. You're not war - you're just a mere sliver of it given life. And if you're alive, you can bleed.”

To emphasize the point, Taelien lashed out with a horizontal strike, while keeping the harvester’s cloak pinned beneath his foot. The harvester shifted his own blade into a vertical position to parry, then retorted with an upward cut, slicing through the vambrace on Taelien’s right arm and grazing the flesh beneath.

Something familiar burned within the cut – the mark of the blade’s bonded dominion, but it was not a power he could reach for with his mind.

Staggering back, Taelien made another hasty attempt at a counter-strike with an upward diagonal cut, but the harvester knocked it to the side with a simple flick of his blade.

“You look unwell, swordsman. Does the poison take its toll upon you? I admit I had hoped for our encounter to occur under more ideal conditions.”

Poison? I didn’t drink the water – was that dagger he nicked me with earlier poisoned?

“I’m perfectly capable of finishing this.” Taelien grit his teeth, not feeling the confidence in his words.
I need to create a window of opportunity – he’s whittled me down too much for a straight fight.
“Don’t you think you should take off that ridiculous cloak? I mean, not only must it be encumbering you, it makes battle a lot less personal if I can’t see your face.”

“Impersonal.” The Wandering War’s voice sounded strained. He pressed his sword into the dirt in front of him, securing it in place. “I see. Yes, you pose a salient point.”

The Wandering War reached for the clasp of his cloak.

Taelien charged.

The Wandering War took a step back at the move, which was exactly the reaction Taelien had hoped for. His leg burned with every instant of motion, but the distance to close was short. He swung the Sae’kes with all his might – directly at the rune-etched blade anchored in the ground.

Blue sparks ignited the air as the blades met, sending cinders of essence across Taelien’s arms. The flares burned, not with pain, but with refreshing warmth along his skin.

His blow cast the other sword aside, sending it crashing along the dirt. In an instant, he closed the distance to the Wandering War, setting his blade atop the harvester’s shoulder.

The Wandering War continued his earlier motion – unclasping his cloak and tossing it free. Undeterred by the proximity of Taelien’s blade, he lifted away the veils covering his head, revealing his face – a face that looked perfectly human, save for his gleaming coppery skin and hair.

A single red rune glowed brightly on the Wandering War’s forehead, and as Taelien’s blade pressed against the harvester’s skin, Taelien thought he could perceive essence flowing outward from the rune – though he could not sense where the trail went.

“Are you satisfied?”

The Wandering War lifted a hand slowly, deliberately, and wrapped it around the edge of the Sae’kes. The weapon’s destructive aura was barely visible, but it lapped at the harvester’s fingers, cutting into his metallic skin. Inky blood flowed from these wounds.

The harvester closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Your aura is strange – it is like my own, but more distant than I had realized. What does it consist of?”

Taelien itched to move, to cut closer against the harvester’s neck, but the creature was unarmed now – and showing no immediate signs of hostility. He knew rationally that the Wandering War could produce a deadly threat in an instant – more conjured blades, or perhaps summoning the rune-weapon as he had before – but seeing the humanoid face had an unsettling effect on his psyche.

He was reminded of the life he had taken and his vow not to do so again. It had been easier when he had seen the Wandering War as a mere monster within a shroud.

“I don’t know. If you surrender, I will discuss this with you further.”

“Surrender?” The Wandering War gave him an amused expression.

He – or she? – looks so young. Younger than I am.

“We’ve only started our conversation – why would I surrender now?”

The Harvester kicked him in the chest.

Taelien flew backward further than the force of the kick should have carried him, realizing that motion sorcery was at work even as the attack moved him. His breastplate had caught most of the force of the blow, preventing it from doing any real harm, but as he recovered the Wandering War was retrieving his sword from where it had fallen.

“Really,” the harvester said as he approached, “You should have taken your opportunity to cut a bit deeper. Every graze that I survive – every parry that you make – every strike that I deflect – serves to give me strength. And though I sense you grow from our conflict as well, your form is frail and will not weather an extended assault.”

Hard to tell how much of that is bluster and how much of it is literal truth, considering who – or what – I’m talking to.
“I think I’ve learned enough to counterbalance these injuries. Breaking those summoned swords, for example, and your vulnerability to distraction.”

“I admit your duplicity surprised me – you had spoken in a fashion consistent with honorable folk, so I did not anticipate the tactic. I applaud your adaptability.”

Taelien pointed the Sae’kes downward, thrusting it into the dirt as the Wandering War had with his own blade moments before.

The harvester paused.

Releasing his grip on the Sae’kes, Taelien raised his hands. “You seem interested in an extended conflict. I’m not interested in that under these circumstances. At the moment, I need to ensure that the people who killed those candidates are found, and then help the people I can. After that, I’ll recover, and I can give you a much better – and more extended – fight.”

The Wandering War’s lip twisted into a sneer. “You’re surrendering?” He raised his blade swiftly, holding it high with a single hand. “I will not allow it!”

The runes on his blade had entirely faded by the time Taelien pulled it from the ground.

He had counted on that.

As the Wandering War surged forward in a blur of motion, Taelien knew he only had time for a single strike.

Runic blades flashed in the dawnfire’s light.

A decisive cut.