Kevlin charged through the tall grass. The wall of fire to his right lit the clearing in a pulsing glow, while the fresh scent of crushed grass mixed with a sharp tang of sulfur in the air. Fear evaporated and his arm tingled with the need to drive his sword through Dhanjal’s heart.
Dhanjal raised both scimitars as Kevlin struck. Their blades slashed silver-white through the dimness and met with a clash. The two traded rapid blows and the staccato sounds of steel striking steel shattered the early morning stillness.
Terach joined the fray by leaping over a swinging scimitar and kicking Dhanjal in the side of the head. The Blade Stalwart tumbled to the ground and rolled away. His armored scales shredded the long grass and scattered it in his wake. He leapt to his feet in a single, fluid motion, his back to the wall of fire.
Terach moved to Dhanjal’s left, so Kevlin moved the other way. He spared Terach a glance. Even on his best day, he wouldn’t have tried a move like that. Maybe they had a chance after all.
The three came together again, trading fast blows. Kevlin caught the full impact of one scimitar on his sword and the shock nearly numbed his arm. He suppressed a new tingle of fear.
He’d faced a Blade Stalwart before and knew what to expect. Dhanjal fought with the heavy strokes of the Muscadele style favored by stalwarts, with forms that maximized their supernatural strength.
For his part, Terach fought with the fluid moves of a master of the Tamarri Harci discipline. His pala flicked out, knocking the stalwart’s scimitars just wide of the mark. He flowed around the bigger man, seeking an opening for his own blade.
Kevlin followed Terach’s lead and adjusted his stance to avoid taking the full force of Dhanjal’s blows. The Taiseluz fighting style he favored was a hybrid of various forms and provided tremendous flexibility, although he struggled to match Terach’s fluid grace.
Had he faced Dhanjal alone, Kevlin would have already died. Together, he and Terach barely held their own.
The three shifted along the wall of fire, and Kevlin soon dripped with sweat from the intense heat. He threw himself into the fight, drawing deep from the well of his experience, reaching for forms he hadn’t used in years.
Dhanjal lunged and Kevlin twisted, letting the heavy blade scrape along his side. He stepped in close and slammed the hilt of his sword into Dhanjal’s face. The blow rocked the man’s head back hard enough that it would have stunned or incapacitated most men.
Not Dhanjal. The Blade Stalwart shrugged it off and elbowed Kevlin in the side of the head. He reeled and barely blocked the next scimitar, but the force of the blow staggered him back several steps. Terach leaped in to take advantage of the opening, but Dhanjal was ready for him.
When they broke a moment later and circled one another, Kevlin was ready to rejoin the fight. He was amazed no one was dead yet. Most sword fights ended within seconds, despite what the ballads claimed.
He stepped close to Terach. “I’ll take the blades high.”
At Terach's nod, Kevlin lunged to draw Dhanjal’s attention and then left his sword low. As expected, Dhanjal took the opening and slashed for his throat with both blades.
Kevlin was already ducking, and deflected the swords high.
Terach dove under all three blades in a tumbling roll, slamming a booted foot into Dhanjal’s left knee. The knee snapped back with an audible crack, and Dhanjal staggered, bellowing in pain. Even he could not ignore an injury like that, and for a second it stunned him.
That was all the time Terach needed. The Tamarri captain surged to his knees and drove the pala up through the scale armor into Dhanjal’s stomach.
Dhanjal grunted, but swiped at Terach’s neck. Terach rolled back out of reach, forced to withdraw his pala before he could drive it up into Dhanjal’s heart.
The Blade Stalwart stumbled back, but managed to keep from falling. The effort cost him four hopping steps back toward Rhea’s wall of fire.
Kevlin and Terach watched as Dhanjal took one last faltering step backward into the magical flames that hungrily enveloped his armored form.
Yes! Kevlin shared a triumphant look with Terach. Then he met the Blade Stalwart’s gaze as flames licked at the big man’s torso.
Dhanjal smiled.
He stood unaffected by the flames that surrounded him like a demonic, full-body halo. After taking a deep breath, he placed a hand over his wounded stomach, closed his eyes, and started to chant in a deep, low tone. As he did so, his hand began to glow softly white.
Kevlin fought to catch his breath and swallowed a curse. His foolish hope that Dhanjal would be consumed by the flames died and fluttered away like ash in his heart. Dhanjal was a stalwart.
Stalwarts of the various gods, despite often dramatic differences, all shared a common endowment from their patron deities, a shield of Faith. That faith, if strong enough, protected them from magical harm.
Kevlin reached for a dagger. He and Terach could not enter the flames but, with Dhanjal’s eyes closed in his healing chant, a well-thrown blade might still kill him.
A flash of light caught his eye, and Kevlin turned to glimpse a bolt of magic disappearing into the sky above Antigonus, who sat next to Ceren with one glowing hand raised.
A bolt of silver-streaked, black magic blasted out of the trees and bored through the air with a heavy rumbling sound, like a growling panther. It too deflected off Antigonus’ defenses and careened up into the sky.
Rhea stepped out of the trees, one hand raised to cast another spell. Her face glowed with health, and her long, lustrous hair shimmered like quicksilver in the dim light. Only her tattered garments gave evidence of the earlier conflict.
“Hold,” Dhanjal commanded.
The Blade Stalwart, still immersed in billowing flames, scowled at her. “Do not interrupt the dance. You may have the old man when I am finished.”
“Kill those two if you must, but don’t interfere with me. I cannot wait.”
“You should have stayed away,” Antigonus said.
He surged to his knees and lifted both arms high. Magic arced between his palms like lightning. The air of the clearing became heavily charged. A deep rumbling began below their feet and the ground shook. Trees all around the clearing thrashed and filled the air with the sharp cracking of splintering limbs.
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Rhea looked around, her expression confused. The ground beneath her feet burst upward in an eruption of splintered stone. It formed a rough pillar a full eight feet in diameter and lurched up with startling speed. It reared twenty feet above the clearing and tossed Rhea so high she disappeared into the darkness.
Rhea's scream echoed back to them as the ground settled. The clearing shook again with the movement of the heavy earth. Billowing dust filled the air in a choking cloud that tasted like clay and decaying plants.
Rhea plummeted back toward the ground, but the air beneath her began to glow, and her descent slowed. About three feet above the ground, the air condensed around her until it looked like a large crystal sphere. Inside it, she appeared distorted, as if seen through thick glass. Kevlin wasn't sure if she or Antigonus had cast the spell.
The harsh red light from the wall of flame dimmed, and Kevlin spun around to look. It burned lower, barely five feet high, and Dhanjal stood with his scaled armor reflecting the flames like a thousand burning tears. Dhanjal held one hand over his injured knee, still softly chanting his healing litany, undoing everything they had accomplished.
Before Kevlin could again reach for his dagger, Dhanjal charged out of the fire and the three met with ringing swords. As they battled, a slow beat began throbbing in Kevlin’s heart, unfamiliar yet compelling. At first, it seemed nothing more than his heartbeat distorted through the strain of battle, but it grew in strength until a pounding cadence like heavy drums reverberated through his chest.
Terach launched a furious attack, and the stalwart pivoted to fend him off. As Kevlin drove for an opening in Dhanjal’s defenses, the cadence became clearer, pounding in his veins. It was something alien, welling up inside him. Not exactly a song, it rang with a powerful tempo, and he hesitated, sword raised, and missed his chance. Dhanjal spun away.
Deep-throated horns, the likes of which he had never heard, joined the drums and increased the power of the cadence. Kevlin tried to force the music from his mind, but it would not disappear. It swelled in intensity until the distraction nearly caused him to miss a block. He stumbled back and struggled to focus.
Serve Me.
Between the beats of the disturbing cadence, the words came like a voice whispering in his ear. He shuddered and poked the finger of his free hand into his left ear. Nothing.
Glory everlasting.
The same voice came again and the drums drowned out all thought as they rumbled through his chest, down his limbs, and set his muscles quivering with the need to move in response. Kevlin suppressed the urge, but his focus wavered and Dhanjal nearly sliced him open. On heavy scimitar knocked his sword aside and the flat of the blade smacked him across the chest.
What was happening to him? A thrill of cold fear trickled down his spine. Was he going crazy? He’d heard of men cracking in battle or going berserk. His pride cringed at the thought of going mad, but berserk might not be a bad idea.
Heed Me, the voice called.
With the words, an image flashed into his mind of his sword striking Dhanjal.
I might be going crazy, but at least I’m still focused on what’s important. The voice, though soft, rang with power, and he could not ignore it.
Beat.
The alien horns blared again, and once more the sound burned through Kevlin, demanding action. He responded, moving with the beat, and was surprised when his sword slipped past Dhanjal’s scimitar and struck a glancing blow across the scales protecting the man’s side.
How did I do that?
Dhanjal struck in turn, but Kevlin deflected.
Beat.
A hundred drums thundered together, and the power of the cadence increased. It rang through his mind, driving out thought and pushing his growing fears aside.
Heed Me, the voice whispered, and a new image appeared, an unfamiliar form that still felt right.
Beat.
Horns again. The sound raced through his very marrow. His muscles quivered with renewed strength and yearned to follow the mysterious form.
Serve Me.
Another impression, a lunging strike between Dhanjal’s blades that was breathtaking in its simple audacity.
Beat.
Drums rolled like thunder. Kevlin leaned forward, barely suppressing the urge to throw himself ahead. He felt an overpowering conviction that to do so would bring victory even while plunging his soul into oblivion.
Kill, said the voice.
Another image. He knew without understanding how that if he gave in to the compelling voice, the blows would fall exactly as they played out in his mind.
It was invigorating.
It was terrifying.
Beat.
Alien horns trumpeted so loud that his ears ached. The image intensified, burned into his vision and obscured all else from view. His body lurched forward, his muscles caught between the need to move with the beat and to obey his instinct to retreat and regain control.
He ground his teeth and tried to push the voice of madness away. After staring insanity in the eye, he didn’t want to go berserk. Berserkers didn’t live long. His sword wavered as he fought to maintain control of his mind.
Dhanjal knocked aside his blade with a dazzling backhand blow that sliced deep into the leather armor over Kevlin's stomach. Pain exploded in his midsection and he staggered. He touched the wound and his hand came away smeared with blood. Dhanjal’s blade had not cut deep, but the pain was still sharp and distracting.
Life and glory are yours.
The voice again rang in his mind along with images of Dhanjal lying dead at his feet.
Beat.
Drums and horns sounded together in a unique harmony as frightening as it was wonderful. The force of the cadence rattled him to the core and he swayed, momentarily forgetting who he was and where.
Then Terach stumbled back from a ferocious onslaught, overwhelmed and unable to slip away from Dhanjal’s brutal scimitars. Time seemed to slow, while Kevlin strove to control his quivering limbs. As Dhanjal’s blades flashed in for the kill, the scene burned into Kevlin’s mind by the next overwhelming beat.
As Kevlin struggled to stay focused, he understood with a clarity that chilled him to his soul. He could not fight the madness and Dhanjal both at the same time.
Terach was going to die.
Kill Dhanjal first.
He let go of all restraint and the cadence swept his mind away. Pounding drums replaced his conscious will, and blaring horns overwhelmed self-control, leaving Kevlin little more than the witness to a living nightmare.
His body leapt back into the fight, knocked the enemy's scimitar aside, and slammed a shoulder into Dhanjal. The bigger man stumbled under the unexpected attack.
They faced off as new forms, unlike any he’d known, rolled into Kevlin's mind. His body responded with startling skill, as if he’d practiced the forms hundreds of times. It was like some foreign being had invaded his soul and usurped control.
It was an excellent swordsman.
In a matter of seconds, Kevlin beat past Dhanjal’s defenses, landing two glancing blows against the man’s scale armor. He met Dhanjal’s surprised gaze and held it for a single beat.
Dhanjal spun away and, using both scimitars, knocked Terach’s pala aside, then kicked the captain in the chest. Terach tumbled backward onto grass packed low from their struggle.
Instead of leaping forward to finish his fallen opponent, Dhanjal turned back to Kevlin. He smiled, white teeth contrasting sharply with the darkness of his face.
“The Song of Savas sings in your veins,” Dhanjal said with a reverent nod.
Kevlin frowned and tried to think through the thunder of the drums. His mind did not work well in that dreamlike state. Everything felt ethereal. Could it really be the elusive Song of Savas the Blade Stalwarts sought in battle? They were crazy to worship war, but he’d never realized they walked around with voices whispering in their heads.
It explained a lot.
Why would Savas try to influence him as well as Dhanjal? Wasn’t that a conflict of interest? The god would end up with two pawns facing off using moves He dictated, leaving the outcome up to His whim. With that terrifying thought, Kevlin decided he didn’t want to play Savas’ game any more.
He could not stop.
He tried shaking his head, but it would not move. He struggled to slap himself to shock his mind awake, but his hand obeyed a new master.
He tried to scream. Silence.
Terach rolled back to his feet but paused to watch them.
Dhanjal beckoned to Kevlin with one hand, his expression exultant. “Come, my brother, let us dance the Song of Savas and contend for the favor of our god. War’s blessing be upon us.”
Suddenly Kevlin's mouth worked again, but the beat pulsed through his soul, swallowing his fear and replacing it with desire for battle.
“You talk too much,” Kevlin said, and lunged.
Still smiling, Dhanjal met his attack, and the ringing of their blades made a beautiful counterpoint to the song burning in Kevlin’s soul. The next beat washed all care aside, and he stepped to a dance unlike any other. Dhanjal moved in perfect counterpoint, and their blades rang again and again.
Terach, excluded from the full experience, fought alone, his movements adding an extra harmony to the rhythm. Kevlin and Dhanjal shifted to accommodate the new score, and the battle raged on.
Time ceased to have meaning for Kevlin. With the song ringing in his limbs, he lived only to reach the final crescendo where one of them would sheath a blade in the other’s heart. It did not matter who won or lost, so long as they honored the song.
Deep within the recesses of Kevlin's mind, a tiny voice of reason screamed in terror and watched in rising horror as the influence of the alien song consumed him.