Anton sipped his tea. It was delicious, he had to admit. He held on to it, savouring the taste. The heat of the cup, the orange-blossom fragrance… it was the only part of this situation that he was comfortable with. As long as he was sipping tea, he didn’t have to respond.
He should have been made more comfortable by the presence of Aris by his side, but having her here, without her guns, only made him worry. By contrast, the absence of Kelsey was a constant force gnawing at his composure.
I haven’t abandoned her, nor has she abandoned me. This is part of the plan. We are working together, separately. The mantra seemed to help, a little.
The slave that had handed Anton his tea was yet another source of discomfort. He didn’t wear a collar, but it was easy for Anton to tell.
Rashid Aziz, Level 13, Human, House Slave, Helot/House Slave, S: 17 T: 13 A: 10 D: 15 P: 14 W: 9 C: 10
Classes didn’t impose urges, but they did provide incentives. Anton knew, if he thought about it, that freeing Rashid would give Anton some experience. Quite a lot of it, thanks to who Rashid’s owner was. And yet, Anton wasn’t remotely tempted. Never mind the difficulty— the impossibility— of the task, it would mean taking Rashid out of the Empire, away from everything that he’d known. Anton couldn’t do that to someone who didn’t burn with the desire for freedom, and Rashid… didn’t.
Watching the perfectly servile slave, standing ready in case he should require more tea, Anton thought about incentives. Slave classes got experience from obeying orders. He didn’t think about it for long, because then he would have trouble keeping his thoughts off his face. Instead, he addressed his host.
“It’s delicious,” he said honestly. “The best I’ve had. I’m astounded that someone who doesn’t normally drink it can be so discerning.”
Salim Al-Kadir graciously inclined his head, accepting the compliment. He was drinking a cup of the same tea.
“It’s not bad,” he admitted. “Pleasant to the taste. It just doesn’t have the kick that a properly brewed coffee does.”
“I’m still not convinced that I should let a drink kick me,” Anton said wryly.
Al-Kadir chuckled. “Perhaps it’s for the best,” he said. “I'm having enough trouble sitting still as it is. For you to accept my invitation, you must be as eager as I am to test our blades against each other.”
“The best way to learn is to face someone better than you,” Anton said carefully. “I only hope that you’ll take it easy on me.”
Al-Kadir flashed Anton a smile full of sharp teeth. “Just a little,” he promised. Then he scowled. “Curse these dictates of hospitality. We should be going at it already instead of wasting time sipping tea.”
Part of Anton winced to hear that Al-Kadir was so eager to get to the fight. Anton quashed it down.
“I’m not familiar with your customs,” he said. “There’s a minimum time to spend greeting guests?”
“Indeed,” Al-Kadir said glumly. “If word got out that I was spending even a second less time on the proprieties… well, there are enough whispers about me in court already, I don’t need more. I don’t suppose you know any poetry?”
“My education went in a different direction,” Anton said.
“Only to be expected of a barbarian,” Al-Kadir said cheerfully. “If we could quote passages at each other we could go faster, but that only works if we both do it. Random small talk it will have to be.”
“Then, do you want to talk about your fiancée?” Aris asked. “Have you had any luck in finding her?”
Al-Kadir frowned. “I have made some enquiries,” he said, “but there are only hints and rumours of a necromancer. Nothing of who he might be, what he wants, or where he might be found.”
“What sort of hints?” Anton asked, trying to sound casual about it.
“No one seems to know about the attack on the wall,” Al-Kadir said. “That it was animated skeletons is not in any doubt, but there was no sign of what animated them. There is some thought that it is the work of an undiscovered dungeon breaking out. Searches are underway, but…”
He trailed off in thought, before shaking his head and continuing.
“That is the most likely explanation,” he said. “The idea that a necromancer would waste so many corpses on a distraction is… concerning.”
“Why?” Anton asked.
“It implies that he has a great many corpses to spare,” Al-Kadir explained. “And yet… armies of the undead might tread more lightly than those of the living, but they are not invisible. We would surely have seen some signs of such a host.”
“Like footprints or dead villages,” Anton said.
“Yes… there has been one sign,” Al-Kadir said thoughtfully. “We received word from Rused. Among other strange incidents, there was a garrison on the island that was… wiped out. Nothing was left, not even corpses.”
“I guess a necromancer would have a use for the corpses,” Anton agreed uneasily.
“Exactly,” Al-Kadir agreed. “My theory is that this necromancer came from outside the Empire, stopping at Rused to cause chaos, and has now reached here.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“That is alarming,” Anton said. “But at least his army is outside of the walls…”
“Perhaps,” Al-Kadir agreed. “But I know that the necromancer himself has made it inside, and brought at least one of his skeletons with him. Perhaps the reason he was willing to waste his corpses is that he hopes to use Denasti as the source of his next army.”
Is this fantasy worse or better than the truth? Anton wondered, alarmed at the direction Al-Kadir was taking.
“What does the military think of that theory?” he asked.
“They do not believe me,” Al-Kadir said bitterly. “They say I am distraught, and they repeat the rumours that I made that skeleton by burning off the flesh of the man who delivered the note. They think the garrison was killed by a small, elite force that took care to cover their tracks by using a nearby dungeon to take care of the bodies.”
“That’s… crazy?” Anton offered. “I mean, the making a skeleton part. You can’t do that, can you?” he asked doubtfully.
Al-Kadir laughed ruefully. “Rest assured, the only way I know how to kill people is with a sword,” he said.
“What about from the other end?” Aris asked. “Is her father going to pay the ransom?”
“Of course,” Al-Kadir said. “If he did not have the funds, I would supply them, even if he didn’t wish me to. I will be making the dropoff, of course.”
“You don’t think your presence would disrupt things?” Anton asked.
“What do you mean?” Al-Kadir asked. “I won’t be taking any actions that might endanger Soraya.”
“I mean, won’t the kidnappers take one look at you and turn tail?” Anton said. “That might make it hard to do the exchange.”
Al-Kadir shrugged. “This necromancer seems made of sterner stuff than that,” he said. “As I said, I’ll go along with their instructions for the handover. Afterwards though… there will be nothing to save them from me.”
For a long moment, no one said anything. Then Al-Kadir clapped his hands. “That should do it for the idle conversation, I should think! Let’s get to the fighting!”
----------------------------------------
“Steel weapons,” Anton said doubtfully. “I’m more used to sparring with wooden.”
“Rebated,” Al-Kadir pointed out cheerfully. “You’re getting to the stage where you need them. Wooden weapons can’t stand up to the strain.”
He swung his own training weapon, so fast that it blurred.
“You get tired of having to replace the damn things every few blows,” the courl said. “Between your armour and your Stoneskin, you should be fine. I’ll be holding back.”
Anton nodded. Steel or not, it was blunted, and only First Tier besides. He’d be sore, but that was probably a certainty anyway.
They faced each other in Al-Kadir’s private training arena. Thick stone walls enclosed a circle of sand. A raised platform behind the walls allowed spectators to view. Today it was Aris and a few of Al-Kadir’s servants.
“Normally, I’d let you have the first strike,” Al-Kadir said. “But first, let me show you why I’m excited to spar with you.”
There wasn’t any change, as far as Anton could see. No dark aura, no electric flickerings of power. It was just that… he was facing death now. His death.
Al-Kadir smiled cruelly, and Anton knew that this was it. His end. This wasn’t a spar, it was an execution. He couldn’t fight it, couldn’t resist it. He couldn’t stop it.
He pushed through it anyway.
Leaping Attack.
It wasn’t so bad, not compared to the terror he’d been living with for the last month. Unwavering helped him push it aside, but it wasn’t like it had been on the Wall.
Knowing that it would be too easy to parry head-on, Anton aimed his leap to the side. Just close enough for a slash to be dangerous. Al-Kadir parried it easily anyway, grinning the whole time.
“Nice!” he exclaimed. “Mobility and attack in one. But you see now why it’s difficult for me to get opponents.”
“You could just… not… use that Trait,” Anton managed to get out. He was desperately parrying Al-Kadir’s casual blows between his words.
“I could, of course,” Al-Kadir agreed. “But it wears at one.”
He let up his attack for a moment and Anton took the chance he was given and went on the offensive. Not with Leaping Attack, he was too close, but with all the tricks his family had taught him.
“To spar with someone,” Al-Kadir continued. “All the while knowing you could end it like that.” He snapped the fingers of his other hand, even as he activated his own offensive Trait. His sword blurred, heading unerringly for Anton’s chest.
Anton had been waiting for that and immediately activated Uncanny Evasion. His body twisted unnaturally, but it wasn’t enough. He still got clipped on the shoulder. The force was enough to send him sprawling, but the blunted blade didn’t get through his armour.
“That’s a good trait, I have it myself,” Al-Kadir said, making no move to capitalise on Anton’s fall. “Of course, I got it at Level Seventeen, which makes me a little jealous of your class.”
“Wasn’t enough, though,” Anton said wearily, climbing to his feet.
“Well, Unerring Strike was my Tier Two capstone,” Al-Kadir admitted. Anton winced. Only the even-numbered Tiers had a capstone Trait, a Trait that was awarded at the last level of a Class. Capstones were said to be better than other Traits. For most people, who never made it past the Third Tier, their Tier Two Capstone was the best Trait they ever got.
Anton was willing to bet that Al-Kadir had better ones though.
“Now, most people would have died from that,” Al-Kadir said cheerfully. “Most people would have fallen to their knees at the start, just waiting to die. You’re much more interesting.”
“You’re still holding back, though,” Anton said. Deciding that he’d rather attack than defend, he chained two Leaping Attacks to come at the courl from the side. The only difference it made was that it got Al-Kadir to show him another trait. The speed of the courl’s parry had to be a Trait.
“Oh yes,” Al-Kadir agreed. “But so much less than in most fights. You need to become stronger so that I don’t have to hold back at all.”
He turned back Anton’s attacks and went on the offensive. It was all that Anton could do to hold him back, but Al-Kadir still showed no sign of strain.
“Do you know, I think you’re actually better than me, in terms of skill,” he said. “It’s hard to tell when I’m so much faster.”
Anton didn’t respond, he was too busy parrying. Al-Kadir was backing him up against the wall. Anton wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or if the courl hadn’t even noticed the strength of his attacks. It gave him an idea though.
He’d been saving Uncanny Evasion against another casual use of Unerring Strike, or whatever else Al-Kadir had up his sleeve in terms of attacking Traits. Now he used it, both to give him breathing room against Al-Kadirs relentless assault, but also to put him in the right position. He still didn’t have complete control of where the Trait took him, but it worked this time.
Bunched up in a ball, he reversed his Trait. An attack, then a leap. An ineffectual swipe at the courl’s legs (he jumped to avoid it) and then the launch, straight at the wall.
One hand outstretched to touch the wall, Spider-Climb locking on. Then, another Uncanny Evasion to twist just so, impossibly, so that his feet landed firmly near the top of the wall.
Momentum, and a push from his hand brought him into a standing position. Standing at right angles to the ground, mind you. He caught a brief glimpse of Al-Kadir’s surprised face. Then he was leaping.
Leaping Attack.
Flying horizontally, from an unexpected direction, he almost managed to connect. At the last second though, Al-Kadir made his own unnatural twist, evading his strike.
Anton flew past Al-Kadir, rolling to his feet when he hit the ground.
“I see,” Al-Kadir said. “You normally fight in more enclosed spaces, don’t you? Dungeon-trained, no doubt. I thought Spider-climb was purely for utility, but you’ve turned it into a combat trait. Interesting!”
He grinned broadly.
“Let’s go another round!”