Divided (23 page)

Were the nobles really this pathetic?  He had never
considered them good people, but the more he came to Dark District, the less
faith he had in any of them.  Althion slammed the woman back against one of the
stalls and ran his tongue over the side of her face.  She let out a shocked
scream and clawed at his face.

When the fingernails caught his cheek, he growled and
slapped her to the ground with a decisive click.  She groaned and tried to
move, but he caught her by the hair and picked her back up again.  “No one is
going to help you?  Oh, you poor lady,” he said with mock sympathy.

“Please, please,” she begged, “I don’t have anything.  I’ll
do anything—just don’t hurt me!”

All of the men let out an amused laugh and shook their
heads.  Althion glanced back to the men who had yet to dismount and grinned. 
“Hear that, men?  She said she’ll do
anything
!”  This prompted more
laughter.

Calis moved to step into sight when he noticed that Aitken
was already in front of him.  “Hey you jerks!  Why don’t you leave that poor lady
alone?” he shouted in a voice that trembled with fear.

The men glanced over to him, and one of the others hopped off
the horse with an amused grin.  “Oh—are you the Phantom Blade we’ve been
hearing about?  That’s odd.  I thought you were taller—not much, but a little,”
the man said.

Aitken seemed to realize that he’d made a mistake as the man
approached him, and Calis, once again found his body reacting only to have it
interrupted.  “You’re a bunch of pathetic belligerents,” the voice snapped at
all of them from a few paces away.

To Calis’s relief and dismay, the very person that he’d
expected to see stood before them with both of his swords drawn.  He looked far
more serious than he usually looked, probably due to the amount of men that he
would be fighting.  Calis deeply wished that he’d brought a sword—or a weapon
at all—with him.  “There you are,” Althion said with a snort, “we were thinking
you’d be too cowardly to show.”

“No,” the vigilante said, “seven of your men is equal to
about half of me, so I don’t see any reason to be afraid.”  Despite the words,
Calis could tell that the masked boy was not nearly as relaxed as he usually
was.

Another man jumped off his horse as Althion walked towards
his opponent with a shark-like gleam in his eyes.  “Tareth Tsrali tells us that
he’d pay good money to have you bound and gagged at his front door, Phantom,”
he said.

A spasm shot through Calis at the threat, or perhaps that
was from the idea of the boy who he thought might be behind that mask bound and
gagged.  “Does he?” the vigilante responded hotly.  “Well, by all means, try.”

One of the men, not Althion, charged him suddenly.  The man
had a large, broad sword, and he swung it at an even cut across the boy’s
chest.  The masked fighter’s lithe form allowed him to get out of the way
before the sword reached its mark, and then he dashed forward, parrying the
large sword with one of his own, and slicing the man across the face with the
other. 

They didn’t wait, though, as they shouldn’t if they wanted
to have any chance at all.  One of the other men that had dismounted took that
moment to swing his own short sword at the phantom.  With another quick
twisting of his body, the boy caught the sword with another parry and then
swung his second sword to catch the man across the stomach in a vertical line.

The one whose face he’d slashed had recovered though, and
this time, instead of going over his head with another slash, the man swung at
the vigilante’s feet.  Responding appropriately, the boy jumped up and used the
hilt of his sword to bash into the man’s chin.  Then, he wrestled the large
sword from his first opponent’s hands and slammed it into the chest of his
third opponent.

He was able to release that sword, and it clattered to the
ground, causing the man to cry out in pain as the sword sliced into his boots. 
With another movement, the vigilante swung his sword around to catch Althion
across the shoulder.  This time, two of the men attacked at once.  As one
attempted to stab him from the front, the phantom sliced downwards so that his
sword caught the other man’s in a stalemate.

Again, he was forced to enlist the aid of his other
shortsword when another of the men slashed at him from the side.  Once again,
the swords met with a clanking sound.  While the phantom’s attention was
focused on the two men who had already attacked, Althion took that moment to
thrust his blade towards the boy’s stomach.

Much to his own chagrin, Calis heard himself breathe a
pained gasp.  When he saw the young man fling both swords aside so that the
blow missed, except for a rather nasty cut across his side, Calis immediately
began looking for a weapon that he could use to help the young hero.  Althion
didn’t waste any time taking another strike, and another of the men cut the boy
directly across the back as he parried Althion’s blows.

Managing to throw Althion back into one of the stalls with a
particularly well-placed thrust, the vigilante turned quickly to catch another
strike from the man behind him, and he swiftly redirected the blow so that the
two swords slammed into one of the other men.  Calis couldn’t help the awe that
struck him as he watched the fight—this boy was not just some commoner—Calis
wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone fight with such prowess before.  The graceful
movements were causing more bizarre panic to leak into Calis’s system, however.

He glared at the blacksmith that he’d found a little ways
away.  “Give me a sword!” he demanded.

For a moment, the man stared at him, and then he glanced
back to the fight where the phantom had just dodged another of the many
strikes.  “Why?” the blacksmith finally asked Calis.

Calis thought of leaping across the stand and strangling the
man right there, but he didn’t.  “I want to help him!” he said.  “Why aren’t
you?”

“I-I can’t wield a blade very well, and I can’t just… these
swords are hard to make!  I can’t just give you one!”

“What?!” Calis snarled.  “He needs help!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is coin.  I need all the coin I
can get!”

“You worthless, lowlife coward,” Calis spat and turned back
to see the vigilante jump out of the way of one blade, only to run right into
another.  Then, Althion dashed forward and caught the boy’s rightmost sword. 
As one of the others swung a sword and caught the very same side that Althion
had struck before, the boy let out a shocked whimper and allowed Althion to wrench
the sword from his hand.

It clattered to the ground a little ways away, and behind
the mask, Calis could see the young man’s eyes widen as one of the men thrust
their sword forward, directly at his chest.  As his sword had been occupied by
another blow from Althion, the phantom threw his free hand up to slow the
sword, slicing through his hand unforgivingly, and then stopping just short of
his chest.  The hilt of the sword pushed his middle finger back, and Calis
could hear the snap of that same finger.

To his credit, the phantom pretended as though it had never
happened, flung the man’s sword to the side, and—wresting his sword free from
Althion—stabbed down into the man’s leg.  The soldier let out a yelp, and
before Althion could move to counter, the vigilante slammed his fist into
Althion’s face.

The noble went staggering backwards and eventually crashed
into another stall.  A woman let out a shocked cry as her wares went spilling
out into the street.  “Ah, sorry,” the young vigilante said as he glanced at
her.

The woman shook her head, as if terrified that she had made
a sound.  The vigilante twisted his body and caught another of the soldiers
with the back of his hilt.  The man crashed to the ground with little
resistance.  The fight had only three men left standing, not counting the
vigilante, but by the way the masked boy staggered back a little, Calis didn’t
think he’d be able to win.

His hands were twitching, as though he wanted to reach for
something that he knew he couldn’t.  He took panting, shocked breaths, and
Calis glanced about in a panic, still thinking of killing the blacksmith.  One
of the remaining men slammed his fist into the phantom’s back and yanked the
boy into a restrained position. 

As one of the men stepped forward, the phantom actually
managed to fling his legs up high enough off the ground so that, even from the
restrained position, he was able to knock the man down.  Unfortunately, he
still couldn’t manage to get free of the larger man’s grip—as the man certainly
wasn’t one of the usual untrained imbeciles who could be found here—no, this
had been a deliberate trap for the Phantom Blade.

With one final glare at the blacksmith, Calis lunged forward
and grabbed one of the nearest swords from its perch and darted into the fray. 
He would never have successfully managed if the shopkeeper hadn’t been so
distracted by the fight.  With a bleeding nose and an amused laugh, Althion
stepped up to the vigilante.  “Even if I do give you to Tareth, you worthless
scoundrel, I am going to be the one who finds out who you are.”

Calis advanced past the surrounding men, who all seemed
assured in their victory—or the ones who were still conscious enough to
understand did.  Just as Althion tried to reach for his target, Calis yanked
the helmet on the noble’s head downwards and slammed the hilt of the stolen
blade into it.  Althion’s ears would be ringing for cycles.  Then, Calis jerked
forward and slammed his fist into the face of the man holding the vigilante. 
Once he was freed, the vigilante sprung and slammed the last man’s head into
the wall of one of the buildings.

As the man fell, Althion got back to his feet, and Calis
forgot all about being recognized for who he was.  Althion looked too angry to
care, anyway.  “Perhaps you should run home to your father, little boy.  I
wouldn’t mention your seven men couldn’t best one.  He’d surely disown you—if
he hasn’t already.”  The anger in Calis’s voice made it shake.

For a moment, Althion looked as though he might be smart
enough to recognize Calis, but he had apparently been glaring past the prince
and at his horse.  He then bolted past the phantom and Calis to mount his
horse, give his men the slightest of warnings, and then set off at a gallop
down the street.

The other men were not quick to follow, but they were well
aware of the situation.  Even though most of them would certainly be sore in
the morning, they all managed to get up and onto their horses before they could
be humiliated further.  Calis turned to watch the horses trot off, wishing
fervently that he could chase each of them down and put a blade in their
throats.  He took a few steps towards the short sword that lay on the ground
and picked it up.  He used his own tunic to remove the blood from it before he
extended the blade to the vigilante.

The boy reacted a little more violently than Calis had
expected, and for a moment, he seemed to think that Calis was going to use the
blade against him.  When he realized that Calis meant him no harm, he took the
blade warily.  Calis noticed the way the boy flinched when the blade’s hilt
moved against his finger, and he also noticed that the shaken fighter had a
hand drawn over his side.  The phantom sheathed the sword Calis had handed to
him and let out a weak breath.  “Are you alright?” Calis asked, finally.

When the boy glanced up at him through his mask, Calis saw
all the confirmation that he needed.  On the other side of the black, leather
mask that blocked the boy’s face were two piercingly blue eyes.  “Yes, I… thank
you for your help,” he said with a quick bow.

“It wasn’t any trouble,” Calis answered.  Then, with a glare
towards the blacksmith, he threw the sword that he’d stolen back to the ashamed
man. 

Calis’s blue-eyed acquaintance moved to the woman who had
been assaulted first.  “Ma’am,” he said gently, “are you alright?”

“I… yes,” she sputtered.  “Thank you, you…”  She threw her
arms around the vigilante without warning.  The boy blinked for a few moments
and offered a return hug before he eased his way out of the grip. 

With a quick smile, he bowed to her.  “You ought to go see a
healer, ma’am.  I can see a few bruises.  And, as for you,” the boy said with a
quick glance at Aitken.  The child had been relatively inactive until now, but
now, he shifted.  “Wait until you’re a little older before pulling things like
that—you could have gotten hurt, or worse—at least have a plan next time.”

“But, I… she… oh, fine,” he said, sticking out his tongue
and then running off down one of the alleyways.  People were beginning to move
into the streets, and most of them were trying to get a better look at the boy
in the mask. 

Calis spoke to him gingerly.  “I think
you
ought to
see a healer,” he said.  “For all your bravado, seven on one is not a battle I
would ever want to fight.”

The blue eyes stared at Calis for a moment, and then the
vigilante looked away with a sort of shrug.  “I’ll be alright,” he said. 

Calis jerked forward, grabbing the boy’s wrist before he had
a chance to back away.  With a quick motion, he removed the brown glove
covering the injury to reveal the bloody hand and swollen, disjointed finger. 
“You’re hurt,” Calis said, with a plea in his voice.

The vigilante yanked his hand back, glaring blatantly at
Calis, then.  A glare that looked remarkably like Kilik’s, as well.  “I will
take care of it,” he said. 

“You fight very gracefully with a sword, my friend.  I’m
quite sure that I’ve never seen anyone fight with so much skill,” Calis said. 
He could hardly bother to care that he likely sounded smitten.

The sight of those blue eyes had brought back to him his
anger about marriage in full.  He got the strange impression that they held
more for him than the hope of an interesting experience in Dark District.  By
the way Calis’s heart sped up, he could feel the unfortunate truth dawning on
him.