Taleb awoke to the feel of a hand on his chest, radiating a warm, tingling sensation. He opened his eyes and took in one of the Healers he’d come to recognize well over the past day.
“You are completely healed,” she told him with a gentle smile. “Fit to see out your final duel.”
He nodded absently. Oliveah and Nathon had been with him for much of the evening before, and informed him, to his shock, that Kale had beaten Baiel on the field. He was not looking forward to facing the Jennite.
“How long until the match?” he asked, sitting up.
“Little more than an hour,” she told him, handing him the pile of clothes Nathon had brought from their inn yesterday.
He moved experimentally, finding absolutely no after-effects of the wounds he’d taken the day before. It had required the efforts of a dozen master Healers, but he was now feeling in top form.
“You have some visitors waiting to see you,” she went on. “I’ll give you a few minutes and then send them in.”
“All right,” he nodded, getting to his feet.
The Healer smiled again and departed, closing the door behind her. Because of his questions the day before, after he’d eventually regained consciousness, he knew himself to be situated about three blocks from the arena, within the city’s large infirmary which kept to scores of local Healers. Due to this week being the one of the Challenge, all had evidently been put on full alert to expect emergencies—a circumstance he was extremely grateful for.
He began dressing, stepping into his pants and then reaching for his shirt. Shrugging into it, he turned as he heard someone enter the room behind him. Expecting Oliveah or Nathon, he was surprised to take in Baiel.
“How are your wounds?” the young warlord greeted.
“Fully healed,” Taleb replied.
Baiel nodded. “I cannot stay long, but I wanted to speak with you about Kale before you took the field against him.”
Taleb leaned back against the wall. “I was hoping it would be you and I in the end,” he said.
“So was I,” Baiel said, “and by all rights it should have been.”
“How did he defeat you?” Taleb asked, bewildered.
“Not by Magic, apparently, but there’s no denying there’s some sort of force at work about that man. I would fail at trying to name it, but there can be no other explanation.”
Taleb sighed. “And how am I supposed to defend from what I can’t predict?”
“You can’t. That’s what I came to tell you.”
Taleb raised his eyebrows in question.
“I’m saying,” Baiel went on, “don’t let whatever this is distract you, because there’s nothing you can do about it. Perhaps nothing strange will even occur today, for not all of Kale’s duels featured such inexplicable circumstances. Just concentrate on the fight. Nothing else.”
Taleb snorted. “If he bested you, I don’t think I should carry much of a hope.”
Baiel shook his head, looking impatient. “He did not best me because he was more skilled, although he’s certainly not lacking in that area. But had my sword not snapped, and our duel been given the allowance to finish properly, I would have taken him in the end.”
With his green eyes narrowed thoughtfully, Taleb cursed the fact that he’d been unconscious and unable to witness this fight. “Are you certain?” he asked. “From all I’ve heard of it, the two of you appeared incredibly well-matched.”
Baiel paused, seeming to consider. “Kale is almost frighteningly proficient, and what makes him so is that he’s completely undisciplined. His strikes and moves are entirely unpredictable, and I say that as someone familiar with every fighting style known to the world. Kale follows none of these, appearing utterly random in every way. What makes this particularly dangerous is his strength and speed. He is very strong, very fast, and to couple those assets with his unpredictable nature, he becomes nearly impossible to beat.”
Taleb regarded him humorlessly. “I hope this conversation wasn’t meant to be motivational in nature.”
Baiel smiled thinly. “Just remain focused on the fight, and never take your eyes from his sword. He will finish you in less than a moment if you do.”
Taleb nodded. “I appreciate the counsel.”
“One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Try to remember you that only have to survive this, not win it. I realize you had no choice but to do what you did with the Balshan, but there is one further thing that I’ve determined about Kale.”
“And what is that?”
“I’m fairly certain he decides before the match who he is going to leave alive and who he isn’t. How he determines this I couldn’t tell you, but not once throughout our fight did he give me any reason to suspect his goal was to end my life.”
Taleb found that interesting.
“You should be able to quickly discern for yourself what his intentions toward you are,” Baiel went on. “Once you have, conduct yourself accordingly. And let me remind you again; your goal here is to survive.”
While Taleb might have scoffed at such advice earlier in the week, he had no trouble seeing its wisdom now. With a new life awaiting him to the south, he saw no reason at all to regret landing at second standing in this year’s Challenge rather than in first. But Baiel was right; he was going to have to shelve his pride just to try and live through this, should Kale for some reason decide he needed to die.
“I understand,” he finally replied.
Baiel nodded, now looking incredibly anxious to be away. “We start back to the keep this afternoon. I will expect your appearance at my inn by Tenth if you still intend to join us.”
“Tenth,” Taleb nodded, thinking. Presuming he survived this last duel, that would still leave a few hours for Oliveah to at last render her decision to Nathon and himself. Suspecting which way that conversation was going to lean, he was both dreading it as well as just looking forward to having it over with.
He suddenly became aware of Baiel snapping his fingers in front of his face.
“Get the girl out of your head!” the warlord commanded. “You can deal with all of that after the fight.”
Taleb was at once half-annoyed and half-amused by the direction. “Right,” he replied.
Baiel turned to the door. “Until Tenth, then. And Taleb—do not forget what day this is.”
Taleb watched the other man leave, his parting words a grim reminder. Fifteenth-days were governed by Death, and it was no coincidence the final round of the Challenge always took place upon them. Almost without fail, throughout the entire history of the event, the last fight ended in the loser’s demise. It was expected, by both the combatants and the audience, and Taleb suddenly felt very uneasy at knowing hundreds of people were right now wagering on if he was to live or die this day. And after Kale’s defeat of Baiel, it was likely most were not betting in his favor.
Baiel was gone only a few minutes when Oliveah and Nathon made their expected appearance. To Taleb’s observation, both were looking a bit tense, and he presumed they were preoccupied with the thought that Kale was soon going to kill him. Somewhat preoccupied by this thought himself, he forced a smile.
“You just missed Baiel,” he told them, taking his sword from where it rested against the wall and sheathing it on his hip. “He came to deliver a bit of advice.”
“We know,” Oliveah said, “we were with him outside.”
He took her in again. As strange as she’d been acting all week, this behavior appeared to have reached its peak today. The very feel about her seemed utterly foreign. He looked over at Nathon, who made a quick and subtle gesture against any inquiries.
Aiming to follow Baiel’s advice by keeping his head on the fight, Taleb shrugged off the many questions now tumbling through his mind and turned to the door. They made a silent procession as they headed down the central, arched corridor to the main doors and stepped out onto one of the city’s lesser-traveled streets.
/>
Taleb glanced about. “Are Madi and Sabian meeting us at the arena?” he asked, not seeing them.
“Sabian’s seeing to some travel arrangements,” Oliveah replied, stepping along beside him. “Baiel is on his way back to Madi now.”
Taleb decided to stop asking questions, as apparently Oliveah was incapable of giving straight answers today.
“Did you eat in the infirmary?” she then asked, glancing over. “Or would you like to stop for something along the way?”
“I ate already,” he lied, feeling much too jittery to even attempt taking in any food.
They came to the street’s end and rounded onto one much busier. Scores upon scores of people were streaming toward the marketplace and the forum, all intent not to miss this final duel of the year. Taleb wasn’t bothered at contemplating the size of the audience, or at least not until he again started speculating on how many of these people would be wagering on him to be killed in less than an hour’s time. Admittedly, he was beginning to see the games of the King’s Challenge in a somewhat new and much grimmer light.
It took them some time to push themselves through the marketplace, even with those recognizing him as one of the day’s combatants trying to oust themselves respectfully from his path. Many called well-wishes and words of good fortune. A few others were not so kind, jeering comments in regard to his imminent death. One of these men made the mistake of speaking just such a statement in Oliveah’s hearing, and she smacked him savagely across the face even as she strode past.
Amused, Taleb didn’t comment and continued on into the forum. The scene within was chaotic. The stands encircling the field were packed to absolute capacity and then some, with people spilling over into the aisles, the stairwells, and even grouped around the sidelines of the field itself. Mixed with the morning’s already considerable heat and humidity, the air within was absolutely stifling. Taleb suddenly found himself looking forward to taking the starting position, for at least then he’d be able to breathe out there upon the grasses with only Kale for close company. Although for how long he would remain breathing was still largely in question.
With only minutes left before he would be called forward, he went against his better judgment and turned to Oliveah. Experience had taught him that exchanging any words with her before a duel wasn’t a good idea, as it tended to agitate her nervousness. Looking at her now, though, he was surprised to see absolutely no apprehension or fear in her eyes. In fact, they were perfectly steady and gleaming a fierce determination he did not at all understand.
Noting his scrutiny, she smiled. “You have no reason to fear death this day. Now go finish this.”
Only one circumstance would have prompted such words, and his mind landed on it quickly.
“Did Madi tell you this?” he asked.
Her smile turned strange. “She’s the reason for this claim,” she seemingly agreed.
Taleb decided not to push his luck by asking if Madi had seen him win the duel rather than just survive it. Unlikely as it seemed, he supposed anything was possible—perhaps Kale would trip and hand him an easy victory, for example. He would see soon enough.
He also refrained from asking Oliveah why she’d waited until now to relay this information. He presumed it was her revenge for all the stress he and Nathon had given her all week.
The first gong sounded, drawing his attention back to the field. The crowd cheered wildly in response. Taleb exchanged quick looks with both Nathon and Oliveah and then turned away to face the final duel with a considerably higher amount of confidence. Knowing he was not going to die certainly changed his outlook on the matter.
He started for the bell-ringer at mid-field, and the audience cheered a boisterous greeting. Reaching the starting position, he then turned and watched Kale approaching from the southern end. The man’s stride was unhurried and casual, his typical style. Continuing to observe him, Taleb quickly replayed all Baiel had told him earlier that morning.
Never take your eyes from his sword.
This seemed the most important piece of advice, and he aimed to keep it at the forefront of his thoughts.
Kale drew to a halt a few paces from him and regarded him mildly.
Taleb raised his sword, taking the starting position.
Kale did likewise, crossing their blades.
The bell-ringer retreated a few paces and then paused dramatically as the crowd hushed in anticipation.
The second gong sounded.
Neither of them moved.
Eyes locked on each other, Taleb couldn’t speak for Kale, but a very strange feeling had suddenly descended and gripped him. He felt almost as though he was underwater, the outlying sounds now distant, dull and muted.
“I remember you, you know,” Kale said.
Taleb felt himself nod. “From Tyrell, yes. You were rotting in a jail cell at the time.”
Kale smiled. “Yet you still deemed me worthy of a threat.”
“I didn’t approve of your scheme to have my friend fund your release.”
Kale’s grin widened. “Naïve little thing, isn’t she?”
Taleb’s eyes narrowed. “What’s important is that she’s heeded my advice to keep her distance from you.”
“Are you certain of that?”
Taleb paused, his mind working quickly. He was only distantly aware of how utterly bizarre the circumstances must be appearing to the audience; he and Kale still holding themselves to the starting position, their blades crossed before them as they spoke.
Taleb shifted paths. “You were also present at the Tulan ball,” he started. “It would appear trouble is determined to follow you.”
“That’s certainly true,” Kale agreed. “But if you’re implying the scene at the ranch was somehow my doing, you’re probably right. Chances are, it had very much to do with me.”
Surprised by the admission, Taleb paused again. “And the lightning, the bee, the warlord’s broken sword?”
Kale shrugged.
Taleb felt a flash of fury. “How are you doing it?” he demanded. “If not by Magic, then how?”
The other man’s smile had faded but his dark gaze remained amused, and Taleb kept their gazes locked for what seemed an interminably long time.
Finally Kale moved. With his right arm still holding his weapon outstretched, his left rose slowly up to his neck. By-passing his Birth medallion of Chaos, he reached for his Secondary. Gripping it by its edges, he then flipped it.
Taleb dropped his gaze and stared as all of those strange and peculiar circumstances suddenly made a perfect yet terrible sort of sense. Kale was not possessed of Magic, nor was he mad, as those two identical medallions might otherwise be implying.
Rydin Kale was Chaos incarnate.
Taleb dragged his eyes up from those two silver circles and met the man’s unwavering gaze again. “You crazy son of a bitch,” he said.
The last thing he saw, before his vision exploded in light and then fell into darkness, was Kale laughing as his sword arm came down in a blindingly fast blur of motion.
Chapter 47