The Contention (23 page)

*****

The courtyard was much as Seth had left it. Dozens of his men stood at attention in a semi-circle as a backdrop to Seth’s newest creation. She stood regally, her shoulders back and her wings stretched straight up into the air behind her. Without hesitation Seth strode to Eve’s side as the rest of the council members spilled forth from the castle’s defensive courtyards. As they exited many made appreciative sounds as Eve’s avian head darted this way and that, her inhuman eyes peering at each person as they began to surround her and inspect her. Many moments passed as the king and all of his trusted advisors surveyed the birdwoman before them.

“So you have created a new species of troop that can fly,” Garret observed.

“No,” Seth answered. “She cannot fly. At least, not yet as she still has to adapt to her new body,” he added as he walked slowly away from the avian girl in anticipation of the next question aimed at him. This time it was the grizzled old general Sulvis who spoke.

“I don’t understand, Prince Seth. We march in the morning. If she cannot fly, what tactical advantage would we gain from such soldiers?”

“Eve,” Seth said simply and stepped back even further than before.

All in attendance watched as the peculiar-looking female reached to her breast and began to pray aloud.

“Lord Seth, grant me the power to defeat my foes,” she chanted as her body shimmered before exploding in size with a concussive boom.

All those who came to see Seth’s creation cheered except Garret who stood looking at his brother questioningly, his eyebrows knotted in the middle of his forehead.

“It is but a trick, is it not?” he then asked his twin.

“It is no trick, Garret,” Seth lied. He knew that at least for now this fact must remain a secret. “She is as big as you see her now; it is no illusion. I can have her prove it.”

Turning back to face his creation Seth looked up into the black eyes of the creature that was once a young woman and gave her another command.

“Eve, kick up some dust.”

Nodding her understanding the giant avian woman stretched out her wings to either side and with one mighty flap she brought them together in front of her, throwing up not only a great cloud of dust, but also a powerful gust of air that caused many around her to falter and stagger backwards. Seth watched as the heads around him nodded their approval. He could not help but to wonder who among them would begin to fear him in the days to come. Men were not meant to have the power of the gods.

“Eve, you may return to your normal size,” Seth commanded.

With a pop the girl with giant wings shimmered and shrank, resuming her normal stature once again. Though Garret did not understand how his brother could do such a thing, with his kingdom at the brink of destruction, he asked the only question that seemed relevant at the time.

“How many blessed warriors can you create like this, Seth?” the king asked.

“I can make as many as I wish, though I cannot sustain many for a long period of time. I can also diversify their abilities. I plan to bless a few of my own men, as well as more of your army, if that suits you,” Seth replied with a smirk.

Garret simply nodded his reply, and turned as if to leave, then thinking better of this he paused mid-stride and called to his brother over his shoulder.

“This is a war, Seth, not a game. Lives are at stake. Do not play with the men as if they are some experiment. Keep it simple. In the days to come we must be both efficient and responsible or all who rely upon us will fall before the failures of our sins.”

With that the king strode off back into the palace. It was obvious he was uneasy about this turn of events, and Garret’s mood put Seth in a tough place. He had already made plans oh how he would alter some of his champions, but Garret was right. He needed to be efficient.

Grabbing Eve’s wrist, Seth turned to his werewolf troops surrounding the area, and without a thought for the council members who stood admiring his work, he ordered them all to return to the temple telling them that there was much to be done before morning.

*****

For nine days Sara had spent every daylight hour reading through Jud’s journals, memorizing every tidbit of information she could about the man. Sara was not surprised to find that he had lived an amazing life. He had been born in the land of the elves, but being a half-breed his mother was shunned until Jud was exiled upon reaching adulthood. Having grown up amongst elven culture, even though he was despised, Jud had written much about the elves in his journal. Sara longed to learn more about these mysterious people with each page she read. She was fascinated by the half-elf’s ability to record his life in such a way that as Sara read the pages it felt as if she had actually witnessed the same deeds the guardian had. Sara shared through the written word Jud’s own Choosing ceremony, his training as a gray-robed guardian mage, all the way up to his first battle beside the previous King Valdadore. In that same battle the old man had lost the sight of one of his eyes. The life of the half-elven mage was thrilling, and finally finishing the first tome, Sara immediately started the second.

Sara’s night-time endeavors on the other hand were completely the opposite. As darkness fell over Valdadore each night, the wife to Prince Seth found herself upon the sparring grounds of the Knights of Valdadore. At first she trained with one man, fighting hour after tireless hour until daylight threatened to come once again. However, apt a pupil as she was, Sara learned well how to use her blades, her body, and the enchanted armor her husband had given her. By day three, in an attempt to match her inhuman abilities, Malik was forced to split into two replicas of himself. By day five Sara could handle four replicas of the knight though they fought of one mind, each enhancing the other’s efforts perfectly. Tonight was the ninth night, and Sara would be facing eight replicas of the same man, a task that it was said to be impossible for one not blessed by the gods. Sara had her doubts; so too did Malik. He had years of battle training and experience, but Sara was stronger, faster and more agile. Add to that her ability to wrap her movements in shadow with the blessing of her armor and Sara felt she had a chance.

As Sara approached the center of the sparring field she watched as the knight stepped out from his own body, creating his first replica. Then the pair of identical men stepped outside themselves once again, creating a quartet. The process repeated once more as four turned to eight just as Sara reached her destination. Without so much as a casual ‘hello’, Sara pulled forth her wicked enchanted blades from the belt at her waist and leapt high into the air above her opponents. Looking down, Sara saw one replica looking up to monitor her progress while the other seven sprang into action, each preparing for her landing. Sara smiled. Twisting through the air as she began to plummet downward, she invoked the power of her breastplate.

“Hide,” Sara commanded as shadow enveloped her, making her all but invisible against the backdrop of the night sky.

Down she gracefully fell, driving one blade down through the armor upon a replicated knight’s shoulder and into his lung before, using the power of her legs, she sprang from his falling body, expertly extracting her blade with a twist. All eight Maliks cried out in pain.  Rocketing through the air between two more replicas, Sara hit the ground and rolled, coming to her feet to face her second opponent. This time, however, the knight replica had anticipated her move. As she rose to her feet, he drove his blade down with all his might in an attack that, had she been unarmored, would have removed her left arm. As it was, the blade simply dented her armor deeply as pain exploded beneath the dent, running down the full length of Sara’s arm. Nothing was cut, nothing was broken. Sara dropped to the ground with the blow and as she fell she kicked the replica in the knee with all her might and watched as his leg folded before her blow. With a yelp the knight fell bodily upon her, a final act that it turned out was good for neither of them.

Twisting to escape his fallen body, Sara extracted herself as quickly as was possible. Avoiding his hands that sought to restrain her, Sara lashed out with one of her short swords. The blow struck the bottom edge of the knight’s helm, driving it up and off his head, her blade flaying flesh from bone the whole way. As the helm toppled from his head, it carried with it the entire right side of his face, including flesh, ear, and hair. Taking with it also skin and muscle, nothing was left behind but bare bone. Though blessed by the god Gorandor, the knight replicas could not help but to each scream out in pain as the injuries were shared by each replica. Sara was incredibly fast, but the delay of the knight falling atop her had been enough for two more replicas to lend themselves to the fight.

Blow after blow rained down upon Sara but with her speed and strength she parried or blocked each one with seemingly little more than a thought. Again and again she avoided blows that would have felled many a warrior, but seconds into the fight a third replica made its way into the fray, lending two more swords and another direction that Sara had to defend herself from. Twirling and twisting Sara danced within the circle created by the three knight replicas and the ring of metal upon metal sang out through the air repeatedly. Dodging yet another wave of strikes as the fourth replica joined in, Sara crouched to the ground, bending her knees, and flung herself forward.

“Jump,” she yelled as she was about to make contact with one of the replicas.

Like a bolt from a giant piece of artillery, Sara exploded forward through the air smashing bodily into the replica and driving it backwards more than fifty yards with the velocity of her magically propelled jump. Alone again with a single opponent, Sara took little time driving the copy of her instructor further from the fight before leaping back into the fray.

Sara was born for battle, and with her new body, she was able to prove it night after night as her injuries seemingly vanished, and she moved like water one second, and a rampaging bull the next. Like a nightmare creature born into the night, Sara sprang back into action, this time putting her opponents on the defensive.

Dancing from one adversary to the next like a whirlwind of blades, Sara managed to drop another replica to the ground with a powerful strike before Malik managed to land a blow that evened the odds a little.

Rushing Sara from all sides the nearest four replicas began to batter the woman like crazy berserkers, but the attack was only a ploy. Leaving Sara an opening on one of his replicated selves, Malik waited until Sara took the bait, and as she did, he struck out at her from the three remaining sides all at once. Though two of his attacks turned up fruitless, with Sara managing to block them both at the last second, the third drove a blade through her armor, deep into the side of her knee, seriously limiting her use of one leg and slowing her tremendously. Malik was not a fool, and released the blade, leaving it in the wound as the woman shrieked in sudden pain. With the blade stuck in her joint she would be unable to heal. However, the move had cost him another blow to his already injured shoulder.

Sara managed to fend off the three remaining replicas’ attacks for several moments as the remaining five closed in once again, but further injury was inevitable. Without the ability to remove the blade from her knee, having to constantly defend herself, Sara ended up taking a knock to the side of her head. It did not hurt so much as distract her, the sound echoing in her helm causing her head to immediately begin to ache. The distraction led her to sustain yet another injury; Malik effectively disabled her remaining viable leg by slicing through the tendon at the back of her heel. As Sara fell, the three replicas closed in on her, each thrusting a blade in her direction. With three blades pressed to her throat, Sara was forced to surrender the match.

Reaching down to her leg, Sara extracted the blade from her knee finally, and waited patiently as her body took over the process. Within moments the wounds began to mend. She had lost the first round, but she learned quickly from her mistakes, and the night was young. By morning she would lose six more matches, but she would also win four. Not quite half and half, but for less than two weeks of training, Sara was happy with the results.

As the sky began to lighten, the area surrounding the knight’s sparring grounds became a mass of commotion and action. The king was getting ready to march his army to the west. Knowing they each had last minute preparations to make, Sara and Malik shook hands at the wrists like comrades, and releasing Daniella from her healing duties, Sara strode off the sparring field towards the Temple of Ishanya. Jonas matched her pace and fell into stride beside her. Sara had not noticed when he had arrived that night. Usually he was there to witness the entire training session, but this night her sworn bodyguard had arrived late.

“How is my husband, Jonas?” Sara asked.

“He is well, m’lady. He has been very busy this night,” replied the wolfman.

“He is always busy lately, is he not?” Sara asked playfully.

“Yes, but yesterday, and last night, your husband proved himself more than a mortal. He has been creating champions, m’lady.”

“Dare I ask?” Sara questioned rhetorically.

“You will see soon enough,” Jonas replied.

Though they walked at a very brisk pace, about halfway to the temple Jonas informed Sara that Seth had left the temple with all of his men and sought the western gate to exit the city. That being so, all Sara and Jonas needed to do was wait where they currently were, and Seth and two dozen of his werewolf troops would intercept them.

For many long moments they waited, standing beneath the canopy of a large tavern when Jonas snarled as if defensively, then, shaking his head, he snatched Sara by the arm and dragged her bodily back into the street.

“We must hurry,” the werewolf growled. “Borrik has returned and Seth rushes to meet him.”

“Why, then, must we hurry?” Sara asked, her lithe body easily keeping pace with the werewolf.