Spellscribed Tales: First Refrain (5 page)

Gurn cut off her voice with a chopping gesture. "I don't care which of you it is." he replied. "I only care for your answer."

The woman balked. "I..." she responded, off balance. "We need more time!"

Gurn raised his voice. "That is not the answer I demanded." he declared. The elite guard nearest him slung the greatsword from his back and offered it to the king. He took it with one hand. That alone impressed Joven; a weapon heavy enough to be wielded with two hands, and he hefted it with one hand like it was a regular longsword. What kind of monstrous wrist strength did he have?

"You have one more chance to give me an answer. Speak, or I will find another to answer for me." he said calmly.

The central woman eyed the sword nervously. "We have not fully passed on our histories." she replied. "Kill me, and you lose some of who we were."

"I have given you six years." Gurn replied harshly. "Consider the loss of our history proof of my resolve."

She hesitated, her head bowing. "We cannot determine who it is. I'm sorry, but we lost the elder possessing that knowledge to fever before the stars fell, and even though we recalled every elder abroad, none of them had the full picture. If you wish to kill me for not being able to give you a clear answer, then so be it."

Gurn tilted his head. "So your answer is that the Ergkinoa do not know?" he asked.

"Yes."

Gurn raised the greatsword, for a moment preparing to strike her with it. Kalenden seemed to liven up, becoming interested in that moment. Inexplicably, he changed his grip on the blade and handed it back over to the warrior who had given to him. "All right then." he replied.

The women looked surprised. The head elder spoke up. "You're not going to kill me?" she asked.

Gurn scoffed. "Kill you?" he replied. "I have received an answer. You all do not know. If I killed you, I'd still know nothing and I'd be depriving my people of your valuable teaching."

The woman looked stunned, but nodded and backed away. Gurn turned to the amassed crowds. "Since the Ergkinoa cannot decide, then I will leave it up to the guardians to make that choice for us!"

The crowd turned to look at Joven and Korvos, the two guardians staring wide eyed as they felt the eyes of hundreds upon them.

"So, do either of you want to yield?" Gurn asked.

"Uh..." Joven said, "I want the job?"

Korvos chuckled. "I do, too."

Gurn stared at them intently. "Since you both desire the task, then it is only a matter of which of you is better able to guard the Spengur. How do you suggest we determine that?"

The guardians exchanged a glance, both knowing what the other was thinking. "Combat." the two said in unison.

Gurn smiled. "Spoken like true Balatorans." he said. "Very well, tomorrow, as the suns reach their peak, you shall fight to prove who is the better."

He turned to the crowds. "Tomorrow, the guardian will be decided one way or another!"

As the crowd cheered, Joven and Korvos shook hands.

"I'm glad to have the chance to kick your ass tomorrow." Korvos said cheerfully.

"Same here!" Joven replied. "But it’ll be me kicking your ass."

"Boys!"
Anna interrupted. "Shouldn't you be getting prepared?"

Korvos nodded. "Yeah, we should. See you tomorrow." he replied, returning to his family. As the crowd dispersed and the Rathes headed away from them, Anna looked back at Joven.

"Isn't it great?" she asked. "Soon, everyone will be happy."

Joven chuckled. "Except Korvos." he replied, pushing off. "Enjoy the show tomorrow." he said, setting off towards home. He had preparations to make.

* * * *

The Ergkinoa volunteered the use of their training yard for the match, and the king graciously accepted. An area with fifty feet of space on all sides, the center ring was wide enough that one could
  have room for all manner of maneuvers and even matches against multiple opponents. On the east side of the ring, Korvos stood, looking confident.

Dressed in hardened leather armor, the
 breastplate was detailed with a wolf emblem across the chest, and wolf fur trimmed the cuffs and collar. His wrists and ankles were braced with hard leather that had steel worked along the edges. He had only brought a black iron longsword and shortsword, carrying the smaller blade in his left hand.

It wasn't the first weapon Joven would have reached for, but Korvos was practiced in too many weapons to anticipate what he could choose to use in a match. Just like Joven.

Joven wore his newly adjusted leather armor. Instead of bracers, he had hardened leather boots and gloves with studded metal bands across the knuckles and backs of his hands. His weapon of choice was a black iron bastard sword, a hand and a half length weapon that he could easily switch between one handed and two handed fighting styles. He also carried a trio of hatchets on loops at his waist.

The king sat upon an iron chair brought out specifically for him to rest on as he watched the match. Though Gurn had not yet acquired a wife, Joven did not imagine that she would soften him much. Four of his guard protected the king, two on either side standing just a pace behind him.

"Guardians!" Gurn exclaimed, his voice carrying to the crowds packed in at the outer fence Joven could see his entire family was present; even Talen, which threw Joven off. He had not expected his brother to care that much about the guardian's role to show up, considering how little Talen cared for the family duty. Talen caught his gaze and smirked at him, his eyes knowing.

"We now settle a dispute that has been six years in the making!" the king shouted. "They shall fight until one is killed, maimed, knocked unconscious, or otherwise helpless!"

There was, of course, no mention of surrender. It was not even considered.

"Fight!"
Gurn roared, the crowd roaring in excitement along with him. Joven gave his sword a spin, limbering up as he took a few steps forward. Korvos, his face set with determination, charged forward with the points of his blades held out from him, a battle cry on his lips.

Joven took a calmer approach to the fight. The shout was a personal flair, to add tension to the battle. The two were both highly trained, skilled warriors even at a young age. A match between the two would either get dragged out a long time, or be finished in an instant. He figured Korvos wanted to give the crowd a show.

Korvos swung at his knees with the longsword, jabbing at his face with the shorter blade. Joven skipped back out of range of the shortsword, deflecting the longsword with his own blade, before bringing it up and over his head and chopping down with a two-handed grip as Korvos closed back in.

His opponent crossed his blades over his head and managed to catch it before it split his skull. The man laughed, using his longsword to push up Joven's weapon and slashing viciously at his abdomen with the other. Joven again disengaged, but felt a tap against the armor on his belly. The blade had notched the hardened leather, but hadn't penetrated. Joven spun, shifting his grip on the sword as he swung in a low, broad arc aimed at Korvos’ thighs.

Korvos hopped back and let the blade pass, before hopping back in with a lunge. When committing to such an attack, one would have to stop the swing, reverse it back in front, and re-position the blade before one could attack again; losing precious fragments of a second. It was an opening that could get less experienced warriors killed. But Joven was prepared.

He had shifted his grip so that he could pass the sword to his other hand behind his back, whipping it around without losing momentum and bringing it to bear faster than he would have ordinarily done. The blade whistled through the air as it came around the opposite side that Korvos had been expecting. He jerked his head out of the way, the tip slicing open his left shoulder's leather and smacking the lunging longsword out of the way. As this happened, Joven brought his left hand back around and caught the pommel of the weapon and tightened the weapon's spin, bringing it into a tight circle over his head before bringing the blade down in a diagonal slash.

The blow connected, but only a glancing blow. Korvos rolled with the strike, coming back up to his feet two yards away with a long slice through the front of his armor that seeped blood. He looked down at the cut, up at Joven, and shook his head.

"You've gotten better!" Korvos said, slowly stalking forward.

Joven raised his weapon to the ready. "You should see Balen fight."

"I have." Korvos replied. "You're not Balen."

They clashed again. Joven's long reach helped keep his opponent out of range, but he could attack more rapidly, forcing Joven to fight more defensively than he had hoped. It was looking to become a protracted battle.

He needed to change the flow of the fight, and quickly. He switched to one hand and jabbed with the bastard sword while he slipped a hatchet out from his belt. He had been reluctant to use them for throwing because a miss could hit someone in the crowds. He gripped it by the very bottom of the wooden handle, and swung upwards as he spun into Korvos' space. He managed to avoid his weapons, but Korvos was also prepared. He leaned into the attack, slamming his forehead into Joven's face as he swung. Joven lost his grip on the hatchet and stumbled back, pain blossoming in his face.

The stinging watering of his eyes was quickly wicked away by the chill mountain air. He saw the hatchet hit the ground several feet out of reach. His nose was most certainly broken, but he was not anywhere close to out of the fight. Blood dripped down his face and he ignored it, drawing a second hatchet.

Korvos nodded with a smear of blood across his forehead. Then he lunged forwards. Joven wasted no time and chucked the hatchet. Korvos raised his swords to block, but Joven had not been aiming for his face. The hatchet cracked into Korvos' thigh armor, and his lunge fell short.

Joven lunged in, stabbing with his bastard sword. His opponent wrenched his body out of the way, rolling across the packed dirt of the arena. The hatchet that hit him fell free, blood on its edge.

"You're not Balen either." Joven replied at last, lunging in for a stab. He missed as Korvos rolled out of the way, coming up to his feet steadily, but not as fast as before.

"I don't suppose he's up for being guardian?" Korvos asked.

Joven chuckled. "Nope." he replied. "He prefers the military life."

"Smart man."

"If you say so."

Korvos swung in with his longsword, forcing Joven to move to block the strike. As he moved, Korvos stabbed with the shortsword. Joven let go of his weapon with one hand and swung a clenched fist, smacking the sword's edge with the metal plate on the back of his glove. Deflected, he reversed his fist's momentum and drove it into Korvos' face. He reeled back, blood spraying from his mouth as Joven rattled his teeth.

Joven wasted no time, following up with another punch while his opponent was stunned. He could have swung with the bastard sword, but with his opponent that vulnerable, he would have killed him outright. His second strike clipped the side of his head, dropping Korvos to one knee. Joven wound up with his weapon, giving Korvos an extra split second to react before he brought it down on him.

He didn't disappoint. Dropping the shortsword to grip his weapon with both hands, Korvos kept one hand gripping the dull part of the blade above the guard for extra stability as he barely stopped the downward blow. His knee and foot sunk an inch into the dirt, and his palm was bitten by the sword despite the blade’s dullness near the guard.

"Damn!" Korvos exclaimed, twisting and striking Joven in the cheek with the pommel of his sword. Joven tumbled away, reeling from the blow to his face. He brought his sword up in time to intercept Korvos' follow up strike, and then they were at it again.

The fight continued for several minutes in the same pattern. One would get close to victorious blow, but a desperate act saved the other. After several minutes of relentless combat, fatigue began to set in. The attacks became slower, the defenses more desperate. The fight slowly turned into a long duration slugging match. Near the end, they were breathing heavily and swinging at each other as hard as they could, without using any skill. Their blades clashed several more times, and finally something gave.

Joven's sword broke.
 Half the blade spun off into the crowd, followed by a scream of pain and surprise. Joven, unable to stop himself from looking after the flying blade, wasn't able to see Korvos change his attack, hitting him in the temple with the pommel of his sword and everything went black.

Joven awoke to find his back in the dirt and his family kneeling around him. The sky was overcast and his head pounded, making gauging the time difficult. He took a deep breath, and all the pains and sensations from the battle came into focus.
He groaned, squeezing shut his eyes.

"Tell me I died." Joven muttered, opening his eyes again. His father and mother sat on the dirt on either side of him, while Balen stood just within sight, looking away from him. Talen stood a distance away from him, deeply contemplating something. He looked confused.

"No, you live." Daelen replied. Joven could see pride in his eyes. "You fought well, and with great honor. Rest."

"But..." Joven said. "I... I failed."