CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - SHOWDOWN
There was no way Julian was going to be able to assist Raedrick against Isenholf, not without putting himself or his friend in greater danger. The two of them were too closely entwined, the duel too dynamic. He could step in and stab at Isenholf only to find Raedrick in the way of his sword before the blow fell.
So he stayed out of it, as Selam advised.
He had always been impressed with Raedrick’s skill with the blade, but he had never seen Isenholf duel before. Silently thanking the Gods that it was not himself having to face their former comrade, Julian had to admit the other reason he did not step in to help. He knew just from watching that he was no match for Isenholf; he would fall before him within a single pass.
A concussion to the left drew his attention away. He felt as though he had been poleaxed when he saw what was happening over there.
Melanie and the mage stood about twenty feet apart, both chanting and executing the hand and body gestures of their art as rapidly as possible, to impressive effect. The source of the concussion that drew his attention was unclear, but a large plume of smoke rose from the ground not far from Melanie’s feet. Her eyes were wide, with relief he thought, but she chanted on resolutely.
He glanced aside at Selam and saw that he was looking at the mages’ duel now as well.
“You don’t object to helping her do you?” Julian asked, with no intention of not helping whatever Selam said.
As he finished the question, Melanie completed her chant, and a ball of fire streaked across the distance between her and the brigand mage. It exploded upon reaching him, and for a moment Julian thought maybe she did not need help after all. But very quickly it became clear that while the fireball had engulfed the area around him, the mage himself was untouched.
Sneering, the mage finished his own chant and made a flicking gesture of his own. The grass between him and Melanie bent over, blown by a fierce gust of wind. Her eyes went even wider as the gust struck her, and she flew back against the wall of the building nearby. The wind left her lungs in a loud grunt of pain, and she slumped to the ground.
“I do not object,” Selam said as the swarthy swordsman set off running toward the brigand mage.
Julian ran as hard as he could, slowly passing Selam toward the Mage as he willed his aching thigh to cooperate for just a few minutes more.
* * *
The magic-wielding thief stalked toward Mistress Klemins, a fiendishly delighted look in his eyes as he beheld her prone form.
Selam did not hold much with the magical arts, by and large. They were a diversion for men who lacked the strength, skill, and courage to face other men without prejudicial advantage. He recognized that magic had its occasional useful qualities; today’s gambit with the archery platforms was one such bit of brilliance. Perhaps not completely honorable, but then neither was archery itself. But when faced with overwhelming odds, there is no dishonor in trying to level the playing field. All the same, useful things are not always things to be treasured, or held close. So it was with magic users, by and large.
But then there was Mistress Klemins herself. Beneath the cold and detached veneer she wore, Selam believed her to be among the most virtuous women he had met. It would not do to have the likes of her despoiled by a man such as this.
* * *
Melanie lay on the ground aching all over, and struggled to regain her breath. She knew the brigand mage would take advantage of her helplessness and tried to will herself to her feet. But her limbs would not respond for a long moment.
Finally, she managed to draw a deep breath and force herself to her knees. Looking up, her heart sank.
The brigand mage stood a few paces away, looking down at her with contempt. “You dare to challenge me, girl?” He spat the last word almost as a curse, his tone conveying all of the contempt for her gender that had been brewing within the Magestirium for centuries.
He flicked his fingers, and Melanie felt a force grasp her by the throat, force her to her feet, and pin her against the wall. Grinning sadistically, he closed his hand slightly and she felt the force tighten around her neck, constricting her airway. She could hardly breathe!
The brigand’s expression became more amused as he watched her struggle. “Where did you get -”
A body crashed into the brigand, knocking him to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Shocked, Melanie recognized Julian’s profile and for a moment she felt relief. Then Julian cried out in surprise and pain, and he launched up into the air. For a second, he seemed to hang there, about ten feet up, then he crashed back down to the ground and lay still.
No!
She tried to force herself away from the wall, but the force held her fast. Its grip had lessened when the brigand fell, but not enough to break free. She managed to draw a deep breath though, and began chanting, desperately hoping she remembered the words to the counterspell incantation correctly.
* * *
The magic-wielding thief stood up and brushed himself off. He looked a bit disheveled but otherwise none the worse for wear from Julian’s uncoordinated attack.
Selam shook his head in chagrin at the man’s foolishness. Stab or cut, do not tackle! The moment of surprise was lost, and Selam was sure the magic-user would not be caught unawares again.
Sure enough, the thief stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he beheld Selam, who stopped in his tracks.
For a moment, the two men stared each other in the eye. The thief looked tired, and though he put on an air of confidence, he was afraid. Men always had a certain shadow in their eyes when fear had a grip on their souls. When that happened, dishonorable men could easily be induced to flee. There were many ways to accomplish that with a swordsman.
But Selam had never tried to spook a magic-user before.
* * *
Melanie watched as Selam advanced slowly toward the brigand mage. For a moment, she ceased her struggling against the force that held her fast, the sheer grace and economy of movement in his combat stride drawing her whole attention.
He was not much to look at normally, but in this circumstance… He was in his natural element here on the battlefield, with his sword in his hands. That was obvious in the way he moved. Despite herself, in that moment Melanie couldn’t help but think he was beautiful.
But that might just be because he was coming to her aid.
She shook herself, and was surprised and relieved to find she had continued the counterspell chant while her mind wandered. Timon’s hard discipline while he taught her was paying off, it seemed.
The chant was nearing its climax, and she would need the components soon: an ounce of wolfsbane and a sprinkle of copper powder. Blessing Timon’s instruction to always have a hidden backup silently in her mind as she continued the chant, she shook her left arm vigorously - or as vigorously as she could in her constrained state - and a pouch that had been tucked up within her sleeve dropped into her hand. That pouch contained the components she needed; she had put it there on Timon’s advice, given so many months ago.
She managed a smile as she continued chanting.
* * *
The magic-using thief backed away as Selam advanced. Fear showed more plainly in his expression; he was almost ready to break.
Then the thief surprised him. He made a raising gesture with his hands and from the ground around him several arrows and a pair of spears lifted up into the air. Stopping at waist level, the missiles all turned to point at Selam.
The thief smiled, a sadistic grin of triumph. Then, with a flick of his fingers, the first of the missiles hurtled forward.
* * *
Melanie’s heart sank. Though she chanted as quickly as she could, there was too much of the counterspell incantation remaining for her to stop the brigand mage. His incantation was complete, and so long as he maintained his concentration, he would be able to do as he willed with force. She was actually halfway surprised he didn’t just bind Selam as he had done her. He must be nearing his limit. Not that it mattered; arrows and spears would be more than enough.
Selam was doomed.
The arrow streaked toward him and Melanie cringed inwardly. Then she nearly lost her place in the incantation from shock as Selam, with a seemingly minuscule flick of his sword, knocked the arrow off course. It passed him harmlessly by and he continued to advance.
How did he do that? She had never heard of such a thing. A glance at the other mage showed he was just as shocked as she.
The brigand mage backed away a half-step and, with a flicking gesture of his hand, launched another arrow toward Selam. But he spun away at the last second with only a tear in his sleeve to show for it.
Another arrow. Then another. And another. Selam avoided them all, receiving only minor scrapes and cuts. Melanie had never seen such grace! Still he advanced, and still the mage retreated and circled to his left to keep as much distance from Selam as he could.
The last of the arrows spent, the mage flung his first spear at Selam at the same moment Melanie completed her incantation. Clenching her fist in time with the final word, she felt the wolfsbane and copper grind together as the final syllable left her lips. A puff of smoke announced the components’ destruction and Melanie stumbled forward as the force that had been pinning her to the wall abruptly disappeared.
She immediately began a new incantation, reaching into to her cloak for components.
The brigand mage recoiled as though smacked and the spear that had been heading toward Selam veered off course, sailing far away from the swordsman. Eyes wide in sudden fright, the mage screamed, “BITCH!” and made a pushing gesture with both hands.
The second spear, which had been hanging in the air pointing at Selam, turned and streaked toward Melanie.
Her incantation forgotten as her throat clenched, she found herself frozen in place, unable to move as she watched death approach. She could not even manage a scream.
An unexpected blow from the side sent her tumbling to the ground, a heavy weight upon her.
Selam grunted at the impact as well, his eyes going wide for a moment. Then he rolled off her. She gasped as she saw the spear protruding from his side. His breath came in short, rasping pants and he clutched at the shaft of the spear.
Melanie had no chance to assist him though. A great force took hold of her by the throat again and lifted her to her feet. The mage! She tried to begin her incantation again, but when she opened her mouth, the force pinned her arms to her sides and forced her jaws apart.
Sparing only the briefest of glances at Selam, the brigand mage stalked toward her. “No one left to save you now, girl,” he said.
Looking over his shoulder, Melanie saw Julian stirring. Though she was relieved to see him alive, he was obviously not going to be useful any time soon.
Over to the right, Raedrick and Farzal remained locked in their duel. Both men now bled from wounds: Raedrick on his left upper arm, Farzal on his right hip. But neither seemed to notice what was happening with her.
Melanie looked around frantically. Where was everyone else? Surely one of the archers, or some of the other townsfolk, would come.
But there was no one else. The mage was right. She was on her own, and helpless.
“You will tell me who betrayed our secrets to you,” said the mage. Standing directly in front of her, his breath was hot on her face and unpleasant. She instinctively tried to recoil, but was held fast by the force of his spell. “Tell me sooner, and you will suffer less. Delay?” His lips twisted into a sneer and he looked her up and down. Then he licked his lips, and Melanie had no doubt what he intended to do to her.
The mage traced the edge of her jaw with his index finger. Helpless to move away, Melanie cringed inwardly and tried to think of a way to escape. If she could only move her arms, the knife she kept up her right sleeve could…
Unexpectedly, the force holding her jaws apart disappeared. Shutting her mouth quickly, she moved her jaw from side to side, feeling grateful in spite of herself at the relief.
“Talk, girl. Let’s end this quickly.”
Melanie swallowed the saliva that had been pooling in her mouth and cleared her throat. “He’s dead,” she replied. It was the simple truth, but she knew it would get her nowhere.
The mage sniffed. “Don’t take me for a fool.”
Melanie glanced over his shoulder and her spirits buoyed to see Farzal fall, hamstrung by a low cut from Raedrick’s saber. “Your boss is about to die.”
The mage’s eyes widened and he looked back at the dueling men. Raedrick stepped toward the fallen Farzal and raised his saber for the killing blow. The mage cursed and extended a grasping hand toward him, and Raedrick froze in place.
Raedrick’s eyes widened in surprise and he glanced around. Seeing the mage and Melanie, his face dropped in recognition of what was happening. On the ground before him, Farzal went from cringing in anticipation of Raedrick’s blow to grinning in victory.
Melanie’s spirits, so recently buoyed, sank like a stone. A sob welled up, and though she tried to suppress it she nevertheless felt tears stream down her cheeks. It was not until she wiped the tears away that she realized that her arms were free.
The brigand mage must have decided she was incapable of doing him harm; as close as he was, he could stop any incantation she tried well before it could be completed. The fool disregarded what she could do with her hands when he used the energy he needed to trap her arms to trap Raedrick instead.
Knowing with certainty that he never would have disregarded a man so, Melanie felt more than a little satisfaction as she shook her knife from its sheath in her sleeve and into her right hand, then plunged it into the side of the mage’s neck.
Glimmer Vale is the first book of the Glimmer Vale Chronicles, an ongoing heroic fantasy series set in a world of valor and magic. It will be published here, one chapter per week, on Tuesday.
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