Stay strong, she said in her mind. She wanted to project the thought to Lathaar but she dared not interrupt his concentration. Please, Lathaar, stay strong for me.
Lathaar knocked aside a dual thrust by the dark paladin, then stabbed with his short sword. Krieger leapt back, slammed his foot against the tree behind him, then kicked forward. The two collided in a flashing explosion, sparks covering both their bodies. A glowing blade tore another cut across the front of Krieger’s black armor. In return, a burning scimitar gashed the inner part of Lathaar’s arm. The blood sizzled atop their weapons.
Mira knew them evenly matched. Neither would dare turn their attention to her, or the knife-edge they fought upon would balance toward the other. If she was to escape, now was the time. Slowly she opened her mouth as wide as it could go. The spikes tore into the sides of her cheeks, but at least she could no longer feel the edges pressed into the roof of her mouth and the upper part of her jaw. She took a breath, and then another. The spell she had in mind would require no movements of her hands, just the verbal components. She doubted she could pronounce them with her swollen tongue, but she had to try.
“Kel.” The first part came easy, just a hard sound from the back of her throat. The tiny tilt of her tongue for the ‘el’ filled her mouth with pain.
“Lak.”
Again the ridges tore into her tongue, but she could manage. She took a deep breath. The next syllable…
Vral was what she meant to say, but when she closed her mouth the piece attached to the back of her tongue gagged her. The involuntary wretches reopened the many wounds in her mouth. She wanted to vomit but knew it would destroy what remained of her tongue. Blood poured down her lips and across her chest. The pain was horrible. With blurred vision, she watched the two paladins. They seemed like statues locked in battle and bathed in light and fire. The hair on her neck stood as she wondered if Ashhur and Karak were watching, channeling their power into their champions to fight their petty brothers’ feud.
Anger stirred in her breast. She would defy them. She would deny them their game, regardless of the cost.
“Kel,” she whispered.
S o how did this Jerico survive?” Krieger asked. They had fought for several minutes, and still his breathing had not turned heavy. “Did he cower in some hole as the rest of his brethren were slaughtered?”
“Cowering in holes never works,” Lathaar said. “That’s where your kind breeds.”
The dark paladin slashed twice with his main hand, then curved a thrust low with his other. Lathaar blocked the first two, then parried the third away with his short sword. Krieger snarled, closing the distance between them while jamming both his blades at Lathaar’s stomach.
“Have you forgotten where I first found you?” Krieger asked as their weapons clashed once more. “Cowering in a pathetic inn among beggars and drunkards and the lowliest of the low?”
“That just proves my point,” Lathaar said, shoving the dark paladin away.
“Your faith was nothing then,” Krieger said. “You think you can stand against me now?”
“My faith has been tested,” Lathaar said. “Has yours?”
“Trust me,” he answered, putting one foot forward while rearing back with his blades. “Seeing you alive tests me greatly.”
Krieger struck with all his strength, a mammoth blow of unholy power. Lathaar crossed his swords and met them, determined to prove his own faith. Thunder crackled between them as the blades connected. The clearing had turned dark, and in that twilight the glow of Lathaar’s swords fought against the sucking, greedy blackness of Krieger’s fire. Regular steel would have shattered, but neither possessed regular weapons. They bore the weapons of their gods. Flesh, bone, and will would break first. Each paladin fought on, determined that it would be the other that felt his earthly body fail.
M ira took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. Four times she had tried, but an involuntary gag or a shaking of her swollen tongue ruined each incantation. Through blurry eyes she watched the paladins. They were nothing but their swords now to her, black and white, healing and hurting.
“Kel,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Lak. Vr…” The spike pressed against the back of her throat, tearing, but she had to ignore it. She forced the syllable out, no longer caring the damage that might result.
“Vral,” she said, feeling the magical power beginning to flow from her body. One more syllable. Just one. Blood trickled down the back of her throat, but she swallowed it. Too much hesitation and the magic would leave her. Now or never, she thought. Now or never.
“Den,” she gagged. Kellak Vralden. Shadow mist. Her flesh drained of all color, becoming a shifting form of gray smoke. The wire and rope surrounding her hands fell through her body, as did the awful contraption within her mouth. The metal plummeted down her throat and to the ground, a horrific sight of blood and torn skin. Attached to it was a small yellow gem that glowed bright in the growing darkness. Her body returned to flesh. Mira coughed and gagged, relieved beyond all description to have her mouth free of the device.
“Clever,” she said, recognizing the yellow gem for what it was. She immediately regretted speaking. Her tongue was still swollen and sore. All she could taste was blood. Her fingers were a swollen mess, but nothing compared to her mouth. Krieger had been far more worried about what spells she might cast verbally. He had assumed removing semantic components would be far easier with her bound by rope and wire. For the most part, he had been right. But now she was free…
She pulled the gem from the device and rolled it in her hands. Neither combatant knew her free, focused as they were on their fight. That would end.
“No more games,” she whispered. “No more fights. This torture is over.”
She said a word of magic and then hurled the gem with all her might.
H e was starting to slip. His strength, while great, was not enough. The light around the two swords faded, only a little, but it was visible to both, and both knew what it meant. Lathaar was about to break.
“Is this it, coward?” the dark paladin cried, ramming even harder against Lathaar’s defenses. He slammed down with his swords, again and again. The weapons crackled, now the only light underneath the canopy of leaves. “I would prove my strength, but you prove your weakness!”
Lathaar wanted to say something, to counter with his own words, but his arms could no longer bear the weight. The twin scimitars came slashing in, the black fire surrounding them as strong as ever. He blocked, but his arms shrieked against the weight. The power from the blow knocked him from his feet. His short sword fell from his grip. darkness enveloped it as it left Lathaar’s touch. The other faded in much of its brightness, no longer an Elholad. His faith was still strong, but Lathaar’s will had been weakened and his resolve shaken. He no longer felt certain he could win, and in their fight, that was all that mattered. Krieger saw this and knew. He held his weapons high, gloating in their darkness. The gems on his gauntlets flared.
“I want you to know,” he said. “I want you to see just how much Ashhur has abandoned this world.”
He pressed the yellow gem beside his third knuckle. As the magic enacted, and he looked to where Mira had lain, he saw her resting against the tree in the center, pure hatred on her face.
“Boom,” she mouthed to him as the gem attached to the small of his back detonated. Krieger howled as fire exploded around his waist. His armor twisted and shrieked amid the blast. The force took his legs out from under him, and in the air he spun and fell. Blood pooled underneath his body. He tried to move, but his legs felt strange and foreign to him.
Lathaar gave him no reprieve. He took to his feet and ran, his sword ready.
“You were beaten,” Krieger spat as the other paladin hovered over him, his blade poised for a killing blow.
“But I wasn’t abandoned,” he said.
“Nothing’s fair,” Krieger said. “Nothing’s right. But your death will be.”
He slammed his right hand against the dirt, breaking a hollow jewel atop his gauntlet. Lathaar thrust his blade deep into the earth below, but it was too late. Krieger vanished in a puff of smoke and shadow, the sword passing harmlessly through the after-image of his body. Furious, Lathaar pulled free his weapon and kicked at the dirt.
“Coward!” he shouted.
“Lathaar,” Mira said, still resting against the tree. “I need you, please.”
She slumped against its base, laid her head against the bark, and then smiled at him.
