Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (61 page)

Or, he could make them feel such agony that in enough force could kill them.

Chuckling softly, he walked through the dark corridors of his home, planning and scheming and waiting for the day to come, when he would return his people to their true position as rulers of this world.

The
clouded shroud of night covered Sha'kar, giving the stony city a ghostly feel. Pale light from street lamps did little to break through the gloomy darkness of the streets, while few houses were visible with lit interiors, as the morning was very early. With taverns and Inns being sparse throughout the big city, revelers making their way home at such an hour usually did so along deserted streets.

Valdieron warily followed one such slow group as they loudly moved up the darkened street. He winced each time they broke into drunken song or began to bellow at each other, and he wondered why it was necessary for inebriated people to shout to be heard. Several times dogs began to bark at their antics, or a shuttered window thrown open for somebody to curse them for their stupid drunken behavior.

None openly confronted them. Although it was early morning and very dark, with no moon overhead to light the darkened city and only a few street lanterns and lights from houses, they were a large group and obviously well armed, if barely able to stand. The fine cut of their clothes also suggested they were of high ranking, maybe even noble. Plus, thieves were not really a common threat in the city, Valdieron had noticed, apart from an occasional pickpocket or petty thief.

But Valdieron was about to change that. He already knew they were sons of local merchants, and up until a short time ago they had been enjoying themselves in an Inn not far from here. It had been a well-to-do Inn, where the patrons were mostly of higher ranking in the city, sons of nobles or merchants. Now, the group of friends, having partaken of their fill of ale, was headed, albeit indirectly, home.

Maybe it was because of the lack of theft and thievery in the city that caused the city watch to be so limited in number, but it was something Valdieron was glad for as he shadowed the small group, waiting for the opportunity to arise. It happened after a time, when one member of the group lagged behind, propped up against a dark section of wall to relieve himself while the others laughingly walked ahead, calling for him to catch up. Valdieron quickened his steps up behind the youth; glad the man's inebriated state dulled his senses. He got close enough to grab the man around the throat with one arm and cut off his startled cry with his other hand, and began to draw him backwards towards a doorway behind them.

“
Keep still, and you will not get hurt. Keep your mouth shut, and I will be gone in a moment.”

“
The man's drunken state did little to help his cautious side, however, and he began to squirm in an effort to break free. Luckily for Valdieron, the youth was not one of the larger in the group, so he managed to keep him held, but it was a struggle to drag him. After a time, they made it to the secluded doorway, and Valdieron reached around into the fold of the youth's velvet cloak. He found what he was searching for in a deep pocket: a roll of parchment, and drew it out.

The drunken youth began to struggle again at this, so Valdieron merely let go of his mouth and grabbed his head instead and slammed it against the wall of the house. It hit with a dull thud, not hard enough that it wouldn't have hurt a sober man very much, but in his present state, the youth slumped unconscious onto the ground with a moan.

Tucking the parchment into his own shirt, Valdieron turned and ran back the way he had come, sticking to the shadows of the buildings. He hoped none of the group of drunken youths had seen him, and there was no pursuit by them, but as he walked, he felt the presence of somebody watching and following him. He did not know the city well, and knew if he tried to shake their pursuit, he might get lost, so he decided to stick with the main streets.

A shuffling from above alerted him to a presence and he spun with his sword coming out of his sheath in a flash. A figure was rising slowly from a crouch, having obviously jumped from the roof of the building above, but he was unarmed and seemed dazed himself, and Valdieron wondered what to do. Was the person a thief himself? He carried no visible weapon but wore a dark cloak with a deep hood that hid his face. Valdieron, whose own dark cloak concealing his features, wondered what the figure was looking at as he stood there watching. He knew a moment later when something hard pressed against the back of his neck, and with a little pressure, he knew it was a blade of some sort.

“
Hand over the invitation, and you will live. Do it not, and you will never see another sunrise.”

The figure's voice was alien to many of the others Valdieron had heard over the past days, for it was undoubtedly Elvin. This stunned Valdieron, for he had not expected such an ambush, let alone from an Elf or Elves, though the figure who stood before him was not as tall or lithe as an Elf, probably a Dak'marian.

“
Ko, natara hal.”

Although his Elvin was not good, Valdieron hoped his polite refusal was enough to throw his Elvin opponent off guard as he dived forward and to the side. He rolled awkwardly in his heavy cloak, but was able to free his sword arm to raise it as he rose facing his two ambushers. Obviously the Elf had been surprised enough to miss the chance to kill Valdieron, but he waded in fast now, his slender Al'katar slashing at Valdieron in a dazzlingly fast move he was barely able to parry. This was followed by a sweeping kick, which Valdieron almost failed to avoid because he wasn't prepared for the second attack, but somehow he rolled away and gave ground and was able to come back around to face the Elf, who was stalking him like Kaz used to stalk a field mouse.

Not that Valdieron was unused to fighting such a fast opponent, it was just that the Elf was fighting much the same as Llewellyn used to when the two sparred in the weeks before the tournament in Thorhus. Sudden images of his dead Bard friend assaulted Valdieron as the Elf pressed him harder and faster. The style was unmistakably similar, and Valdieron was glad he had Llewellyn's lessons and his tomes for guidance, else the skilled Elf would have defeated him very quickly. As it was, he was able to use his own adapted style to counter the Elf's moves and even go on the offensive, which seemed to surprise the Elf as he redoubled his efforts.

It wasn't long before Valdieron realized this Elf was no common thief. The way he fought was far superior to anything Valdieron had seen, even from the likes of Hagar and Llewellyn himself, though he had never faced his bard friend in a combat to the death. He realized he could hold out the faster Elf for only so long before he made a critical mistake. He fought with a determination and skill he didn't know he had, but even so the Elf was able to match him thrust for thrust and parry for parry. As yet, the second man had not entered the combat, but Valdieron knew if it looked like he was getting the better of the Elf, the other man would undoubtedly join the melee.

His only hope lay in magic or something else, and he had only a tenuous grasp on what little magic he knew, and nothing to really help in combat. Slowly he worked out a plan as the rhythm of the combat flowed to a greater speed, and he just waited his chance to use it.

It came after a long series of exchanged thrusts and parries, starting low and finishing with the two pressed together in a stalemate, blades locked together as they strained to push each other away. Valdieron was glad for the exchange, as he suddenly willed his magical sword to flame. His own eyes, not as sensitive to the change from darkness to light, blurred as his sword flashed, but the Elf wasn't so lucky. With a cry, Valdieron pushed the suddenly blinded Elf away. The Elf rolled away and kept rolling, obviously trying to put as much distance between he and Valdieron as possible, while his sword slashed around him in case Valdieron was pursuing him for the kill.

But Valdieron had another part of his plan to complete. At the sight of the Elf being blinded by Valdieron's sword, the second attacker charged Valdieron, who instead of turning to face him, spun and with his left hand, stripped his dagger from the sheath at his waist and flicked it at the lantern which hung on a high pole fifteen feet away. With a crashing of glass, the dagger shattered the cover of the lantern, which was enough to extinguish the flickering light. Overhead, the twin moons in opposite positions in the dark sky were both waning, and as such, not strong enough to provide illumination by which a human could see. As Valdieron had hoped and guessed, the second attacker faltered in the dark, and stopped warily, his sword coming up before him for protection also.

Valdieron did not bother with him, for although he would probably grow accustomed to the faded light in a few minutes, the Elf was already recovering and walking towards him slowly.

If the Elf was surprised Valdieron could still see, he did not show it as he resumed the melee, showing no indication of suffering from the effects of the temporary blindness. The steely clanging of their slender blades echoed through the streets, but obviously did not warrant the attention of those living nearby, which surprised Valdieron also, for he would have assumed in a town of such a war like people, although street fights would be uncommon due to the lack of theft and street crime, surely somebody would be curious enough to intervene.

And it was unfortunate for him that nobody did come to intervene, because he was slowly being worn down by the superior Elf. He became desperate enough to use some of the newest moves he had recently learned from the Wind Dancer discipline, but the Elf seemed to read his every move and meet him in either a parry or a counter attack. His right thigh was stinging from a long cut, while his arms were growing wearier by the minute. He even tried to work himself and his weapon into a position to try and blind the Elf again, but the Elf was not going to be duped again, and foiled his every attempt by either retreating or keeping the blades low and away from eye level, so that if Valdieron did magically inflame his weapon, the effect would not be so direct and blinding.

He knew he had no chance after the Elf's keen blade sliced across his forearm, drawing a deep cut that left his hand numb and blood running down onto his hand. He was able to change to his left hand, but even though he was good with his left, he was nowhere near proficient, and as such, the Elf soon had his weapon flying free with a simple disarm. Valdieron heard his weapon clatter to the cobbled street, but only watched his Elvin opponent step forward to press his weapon to his throat. He considered attacking again, but knew that without a weapon and with one arm all but useless, he was no match for the armed Elf.

He expected the killing blow to come, but instead the Elf stood regarding him, his fiery red eyes trying to bore beneath his cowl. With a flick, at which Valdieron flinched, the Elf threw back Valdieron's hood, revealing his face. There was a flicker of surprise in the Elf's eyes, as he saw before him a young Dak'marian by all appearances.

“
Who are you who looks like a Dak'marian, but sees in the darkness as an Elf, and who fights with a magical sword with the skill of a Bladesinger?”

“
Nobody of consequence,” replied Valdieron, not wanting to give the Elf the dignity of knowing who he was for the simple pleasure of it, before he killed him.

The Elf pressed his sword a little harder against Valdieron's throat, but Valdieron did not draw away from the pressure, letting the tip cut into him as he matched the Elf's intense stare.

“
I must know. As an Elf, I must know who of our kind taught you the ways of the Bladesong. It is an action punishable by death.”

Valdieron began to laugh at this. “Then it will do no harm in my telling you, for he who did is already dead.”

At this answer, the Elf's sword bit deeper into Valdieron's neck, enough that this time Valdieron winced at the pain. “Then you killed him for his knowledge?”

Valdieron spat at the accusation. “I did no such thing. Llewellyn taught me the ways of the Wind Dancer, but his death was not of my doing. He taught me freely, and for reasons of his own, which died with him.”

“
Llewellyn!”

“
Llewellyn?” This from the second attacker who was still standing off to the side in the dark, though by now he should have been able to at least pick out the two enough to see it was his Elf companion who had come out the victor. “Valdieron? It cannot be!”

Valdieron turned his head enough to take in the second figure. The Elf, sensing his companion knew this stranger, did not stop him, though his sword remained pressed against Valdieron's throat. As the figure threw back his head, the face Valdieron saw was one he thought he might never see again.

“
Andrak?”

The young Prince laughed as he recognized the voice now. “Val. By the gods, this is a strange meeting. Janantar, there is no need for that.”

“
So it would seem,” agreed the Elf, slowly withdrawing his sword, though the look he kept on Valdieron was one of mistrust as he carefully wiped the blood from the blade and sheathed it. He also wiped at a damp line of blood that ran down his thigh from a wound Valdieron had inflicted.

“
Can somebody give me some light here?” pleaded Andrak.

Valdieron moved to re-gather his sword. This sudden turn of events had left him stunned, for he had not expected to meet anybody he knew here in Sha'kar, let alone Andrak, but when he thought about it, obviously the Prince was looking for Kitara, as Valdieron was.