Dexter of Pozzelby
“Thank you. I feel better. Do you think we can beat Stone?”
“He isn’t so tough. I’ve fought with him before, in the old days.”
“Did you ever beat him?”
“No. He nearly killed me both times we fought. But that was then.”
Jeremiah glanced up, shielding his eyes against the downpour. Porknoy looked up as well and saw Nightshade’s black clad form fly by in the direction they were walking.
“She’s going to try and soften him up some for us, I’d guess,” Jeremiah said.
“If anyone can beat Garris Stone, it’s her. She’s amazing.”
“She is, but Stone has always proven somewhat...resistant to magical attacks over the years. Something that would disintegrate anyone else might singe Garris’ beard and give him a headache. Still, she is the most powerful wizard on this continent. That has got to count for something.”
Ahead, they heard a series of explosions, followed by a sound like someone ripping a thousand bolts of cloth in half at once. There was a moment of silence, and then a fireball lit up the night.
“Catch up,” said Jeremiah, breaking into a sprint. I would hate to have the little lady dead by the time I got there. Happened once before; I didn’t like it.”
Porknoy began to run, but he was nowhere near as fast as Jeremiah. He was wet and his armor, while not full plate armor, weighed him down. Plus, he was still hurt.
“Quit kidding yourself,” he thought. “If I was naked and had bird wings that old man would still beat me.”
The fight was not too far ahead and when he reached it, both Nightshade and Jeremiah were still alive. And Nightshade had accomplished something—Stone was on foot, his horse lay dead fifty feet away. Porknoy came to stand next to Jeremiah, while Nightshade was a dozen feet to their left.
“Spread out to my right,” Jeremiah told Porknoy. “Bunching together just makes us easier targets for him.”
Stone was just standing there, his black sword held in front of him. Porknoy realized that the three of them had been talking.
“Garris, go back to Garegon’s hell,” Nightshade said. “I created the sword and I know how to destroy it. I’ll do that, destroy it before I let it be used by the sects.”
“It is good to see you as well, Nightshade. You are lovely as always. And Jeremiah, you just look old. I do miss our little get-togethers. In the old days, at least there was a challenge. Now they’re just breeding sword fodder, like that young man to your right. To illustrate my point, I will kill him first while you watch or try to stop me. It won’t matter which, but the latter option definitely sounds more fun,” Stone said in his low, raspy voice.
He took a step toward Porknoy, who was standing ready to fight, but more scared than he had ever been. Before Stone had taken two steps, Nightshade used the same spell that she had used on the priest and turned the mud at Stone’s feet to hard rock. Stone stopped dead, stuck.
A strange noise came from beneath the General’s visor; Porknoy realized that it was laughter.
Nightshade did not stop. Ten bolts of white light shot forth from her fingertips toward Garris Stone like spinning, glowing wasps. Everyone struck Stone’s black breastplate and exploded. Stone’s laughter continued.
Jeremiah charged.
“Yes, come on,” Stone said encouraging. “I won’t even block. I haven’t had this much fun in three hundred years.”
As Jeremiah came forward, his right hand began to glow hot orange. He pulled back his fist as he got close, while Stone, true to his word, stood there. Jeremiah drove his fist forward into Stone’s visor. Stone barely moved, but Jeremiah was thrown back by the recoil of his own blow. He was clutching his hand when he got up.
“Almost four hundred years old and you still haven’t learned not to punch metal,” Stone said. “I’ll give it to you though. That hit might have punched through my old armor. This armor though is a gift from Lord Garegon, much tougher than the old suit. Well, as much as I have enjoyed chatting, I do have a job to do here.”
He exerted the muscles in his legs and the rock that was encasing his feet cracked and broke. He was again free to stalk Porknoy. Just as Garegon’s general reached him, Nightshade cast one more spell. Golden energy poured through her open palm and arced across the field. It did not strike Stone though. Instead, the golden light wrapped itself around Porknoy’s sword and seemed to infuse it with power. It was just in time, for Stone was attacking.
He moved deceptively fast for such a large, heavily armored man. He feinted low, spun, and delivered a backhanded blow intended to separate Porknoy’s head from his shoulders. Porknoy’s now glowing blade seemed lighter than before and he got it up to block the blow just in time. The strength of the attack knocked the lieutenant back, and an overhead attack that he blocked drove him to his knees. Porknoy rolled to the side and came up cutting low at the back of Stone’s leg. The sword, even with Nightshade’s enchantment upon it, merely glanced off of the ebony armor that the General wore.
Nightshade decided to try something less direct. Some fifteen feet away from the fight, she made a motion that mimed reaching into a pocket and flinging something. A black shape began to grow in the air, sailing toward Garris Stone’s helmet. It looked like a mass of tar. She hoped to blind Stone with it, maybe even make it difficult to breathe, but he sensed it and simply ducked underneath the flying goop.
As Stone ducked, Porknoy landed two blows across his enemy’s back. They had no effect other than to annoy the black knight. Stone took a haphazard swipe at Porknoy that knocked him backward, then brought his sword around for a killing blow. Porknoy blocked once more, but the force of Stone’s cut drove Porknoy’s own blade deep into his shoulder. Crying out, Porknoy let go of the hilt and grasped the blade in his left hand, trying to free it from his body. Stone kicked the lieutenant in the chest with a mailed foot and sent him sprawling in the mud.
Jeremiah attacked from the rear with a flying kick that actually put Stone off balance for a moment. The old man tried to sweep his opponent’s legs, but even off-balance Stone was too massive for Jeremiah to put down. Stone struck out with his shield and Jeremiah caught the blow on the side of his head. He was thrown back ten feet, landed on his feet, then fell back staggered and dizzy.
Nightshade raised her staff. A bolt of lightning came down from the storm and struck General Stone in the chest. He shrugged it off and turned back to Porknoy, ready to finish him.
****
I had lost all sense of time during our running fight in the old castle. Days might have passed for how tired I was. I admit that I despaired over the long hike back to the new castle, where undoubtedly we would have to fight our way through hundreds of Garegon’s soldiers to get outside, assuming that was where Garris Stone was.
“He is outside,” Coenbrand said. “I can sense him through Harbinger. Our swords are mirrors of each other and are sensitive to one another’s presence. How many do you have here?”
We did a head count. There were still a few hundred Pozzelbian soldiers alive. Of the five hundred guardsmen I originally had, forty-two had survived, plus the thirty left protecting the nobles and castle residents. Of those I knew personally, Brin was unscathed except for a scraped knee. Francis had most of the right side of his beard singed off when one of his potions had backfired on him. My mother was unhurt. Myrick and Layred Vu were relatively unhurt. Sergeant Serria had received a few deep but not-too-serious wounds. The only loss among those I knew was Captain Talon. He had been killed near the end of the last battle. Theof told me that he had been struck down from behind when the battle was almost won. Ironic that he had been brought back from death’s door by Harbinger, only to die in what seemed like pointless manner such a short time later.
I sent the remaining guardsmen, under Layred Vu’s command, back to where the residents and nobles were hiding, to check their status and assist the guardsmen who were already
there.
“Hmm, I’ve never tried, but I think I can get about thirty of us outside. If we can all squeeze together tightly enough,” Coenbrand said.
“Squeeze together?” I said.
“Magic, Coenbrand?” Theof said, shaking his head. “Never thought I would see the day.”
“Well, I won’t actually be doing the magic, Eridan will. He taught me a few tricks, lent me some power. If everyone will gather around me, I should be able to shift us fairly close to Garris Stone, like a teleport, only I can’t go so far with anyone but myself. Nightshade could probably take us all to the moons, but the castle grounds will just about be my limit.”
“Should be far enough,” Myrick said.
So we crowded around Coenbrand. I selected a score of men to accompany us, the rest I ordered to start back on foot.
Coenbrand looked a little nervous, out of character for the legend I had always pictured in my mind.
“Okay, ready?” he asked. “Hang on; I’m not sure how this works.”
“Hang onto what?” Francis said.
There was a brief sensation of smothering but it lasted less than a second. And then I was standing ankle deep in mud in the middle of a downpour while a battle raged around us. It looked like the Pozzelbian army had turned on the Twelve Sect Order, or the other way around—I liked to think that my countrymen saw them for what they were and attacked first. It didn’t matter really. The important thing was that I saw a lot more of us left than I did of them.
“Garris Stone is that way,” said Coenbrand, pointing with Harbinger.
There was intense fighting all around us, but we were barely bothered. Most fell back at the sight of Coenbrand in his impeccable silver armor and Harbinger clear like ice and shining with its pale blue light.
Someone shouted, “Theof!”
I turned and saw an older man dressed in a blue and white uniform of the Pozzelbian army. He was busy fighting a knight who bore a red fang emblem on his shield. The elf sprang into the saddle behind the Red Fang Knight and drove his long sword through the knight’s back. Theof’s sword poked through the knight’s armor like paper. He withdrew it and stabbed it in again and again. He leapt back off of the horse, high into the air, making a little flip at the top of the leap’s arc, and landed on his feet near the horse of the man who had called him.
“Hello, Jalos. Keeping busy?”
“You might say that. We met Jeremiah and a young lieutenant from Earmund. Next thing you know we’re in the Pozzelbian army and fighting in the rain. You know I hate to fight in the rain,” the older man said. “We’ve got things pretty well wrapped up, but there are still a few hundred of these knights riding around giving us some trouble. Nothing we can’t handle though. They aren’t any worse than those knights from Lorsan.”
“Good, keep it up. We’re going to go deal with their general.”
“Was that...?”
“Yes it is. About time too.”
Theof returned to our procession toward Garris Stone. After another hundred yards, I saw him. Stone was standing over an injured Pozzelbian soldier, preparing to administer a coup de grace. Horrified, I realized that the soldier was Porknoy. Nightshade was about fifty feet behind Stone, preparing to launch some spell through her staff. An old man, also injured, was prone in the mud, trying to pick himself up.
“Garris Stone!” Coenbrand’s yelled, his voice carrying all over the field of battle.
Stone’s sword stopped in mid-strike. He stepped back from Porknoy and turned.
“Can it be?” he rasped.
Stone turned, forgetting about Porknoy. He lifted his visor with a mailed hand. I expected to see a horrific countenance to match his grating voice. Instead, I saw an ordinary-looking man with a genial smile surrounded by a chestnut beard. His easy grin did not reach his eyes.
“Coenbrand. I see they let you out of hell or wherever it is your kind goes when they die. At last things might prove interesting.”
“You’re already beaten, Garris. Take your men and leave this castle and this country. It is the only opportunity I’ll give,” Coenbrand said, advancing.
The two warriors were sharply contrasted. Stone was massively tall, while Coenbrand stood several inches under six feet. Even in the rainy night, Coenbrand’s armor shined brightly, while Stone’s armor seemed blacker than the dark that surrounded him. Still, there were undeniable similarities. It was the way that they moved and the way that they carried themselves where they were similar. Both had a palpable aura and formidable presence.
“Beaten? But when I kill you and take your sword, I will win. You should have just returned to Eridan with Harbinger, but your pride made you come and face me. If you had done that, you would have won. The price would have been the lives of everyone at in this castle, but you would have prevented my Lord Garegon’s return.”
“I banished Garegon once and while I am here, he will not return,” said Coenbrand.
“But I think your chances of defeating me are slim. We have met in battle thrice and two of those times I defeated you.”
“Yes, but I beat you when it counted, Garris.”
Garris Stone and Coenbrand Davin, two legendary warriors, circled each other slowly on the muddy field. Elsewhere the fight continued, but every eye in the vicinity was centered on Stone and my ancestor. Soldiers in the middle of combat paused in their personal battles to watch what would undoubtedly decide the outcome of this whole affair.
Coenbrand attacked first, a strong overhand attack that Stone blocked with his shield. Twice more Harbinger fell and landed on Stone’s shield. Coenbrand came in again. This time, Garris Stone sidestepped and cut at Coenbrand with a backhand blow, which Coenbrand ducked. Staying low, Coenbrand stabbed at Stone’s side. Harbinger found a seam under the General’s arm and drew first blood. It didn’t seem to bother him from what I could see as he turned and kicked out at Coenbrand’s shield and drove him back.
Being injured only seemed to propel Stone onto greater efforts. His black blade danced, cut, and stabbed at Coenbrand, who blocked, parried, and countered with equal fervor.
Ten minutes into the fight, it looked like the larger battle had stopped. Garegon’s army was standing lined up opposite of where I was, near their camp. The Pozzelbian army was crowded around the other three sides of where the fighting was. I was happy to see that we were more than double the Twelve Sect Order’s numbers.
Both fighters seemed evenly matched so far. Both were incredibly strong, and while Garris Stone had a slight advantage in reach, Coenbrand was quicker. He managed to wound Stone in a number of places, though none of the wounds by themselves were serious. Coenbrand had been injured only once, but it was a deep cut across the front of his thigh where Stone’s black sword had easily cut through armor and flesh.
I thought about how I had just exhausted Harbinger’s ability to heal saving Grimwulf and hoped that it had been the right thing to have done.
They locked blades. Coenbrand was forced back for a moment but dug in and resisted. Garris Stone dropped his shield to use both hands on his sword and Coenbrand did likewise. Suddenly, Harbinger flashed forth with a bright white light that momentarily blinded Stone. Garris Stone stepped back several steps, covering his face, keeping his sword extended while he pulled off his helmet.
“Attack him now,” I heard Myrick saying, “while he is still partially blinded.”
“Coenbrand will not. He will wait until Stone is ready. It is part of his code. That code used to infuriate me as much as my penchant from attacking from the rear used to irritate him,” Theof said.
Just as Theof said, Coenbrand waited a full minute until Stone had recovered his vision and indicated that he was ready, before they resumed their fight.
Without the shields, the skill of these two men was clearly displayed. Despite their plate armor, which looked as if it had been form fitted to their bodies, they moved with the grace of
dancers. Their swords, both elegant weapons, moved almost faster than the eye could follow. Advance, thrust, beat back, thrust, parry, riposte. They moved back and forth for long minutes and no man gained an upper hand until Coenbrand, just a little faster than his opponent, drove the point of his sword into Stone’s right shoulder. He withdrew and cut at Stone’s chest, was parried, and redoubled his efforts now. Garris Stone was backing up. It seemed to me that he was becoming slightly slower. Was he becoming tired, I wondered? He blocked, parried, and riposted against Coenbrand’s series of attacks. Coenbrand came back with the same series, cut low, thrust high. Stone again blocked, parried, and riposted to get some space.
Coenbrand came in low and it was blocked. This time, he feinted the high thrust. Stone bit and his black sword moved to parry. He realized then that the movement had been a feint, but it was too late. Coenbrand reversed his blade and cut low again. Harbinger cleaved into Stone’s armor and sank several inches into the side of his stomach.
Lurching back, Garris Stone made an awkward swipe at Coenbrand, who ducked and came up with a low thrust that penetrated right under Stone’s breastbone. Check mate. Stone, with his empty hand, grabbed Harbinger. Coenbrand reached up and immobilized Stone’s sword arm.
“I had forgotten how much fun our get-togethers are,” Stone said, his raspy voice even more labored. “Next time, we’ll break our tie.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
But even as he spoke, a rip appeared in the air behind Garris Stone. A gate, I knew from all that I had learned in the last few days. Giving one last tremendous shove, Stone pushed Coenbrand off of him, wrenching Harbinger out of his abdomen. Then he fell backward, through the gate, which closed as soon as he was through.
Garris Stone was gone.
Directly across from me the remaining Twelve Sect Order troops were scrambling. They had just witnessed the defeat of their champion and were bereft of their key leadership. They were running. Myrick wasn’t going to let them get away that easily.