Sorcerer's Shadow - Chapter 41: Combat

“Yes,” Drevolan responded while squaring off with his adversary. “It wouldn’t be a fair fight otherwise.”

“Ah. Naturally. How foolish of me.”

The adversaries drew closer, and Drevolan’s opponent nervously eyed the sword and licked her lips.

“Don’t fret,” Drevolan reassured. “It only does what I command.”

The other nodded and assumed a defensive stance, her left hand forward, clutching the dagger. Drevolan mirrored her, unsheathed his dagger, and initiated the attack with his sword, which she blocked. She aimed her dagger at his abdomen, but he dodged and countered with a swift thrust to her chest.

Blood flowed. Drevolan stepped back and saluted.

I turned to Drevolan, “Am I up next, or are you battling them all?”

One of the Dragonlords awaiting their turn retorted, “You’re up, Shortlives,” as he stepped forward, brandished his sword, and squared off against me.

“Alright,” I replied, quickly pulling out a throwing knife from my cloak and launching it into his throat.

“Viktor!” Drevolan cried out.

“I’ve taken care of my opponent,” I responded, observing the man struggling on the ground, a few feet away from Drevolan’s victim. The sound of unsheathing swords resonated. Opal dashed towards someone as I drew my rapier. It dawned on me that I might have breached some sort of social etiquette.

Drevolan muttered a curse, and the clash of steel echoed. Suddenly, I was confronted by two attackers. I faked a slash towards their eyes, twirled around to check my rear, spun back, and hurled three shuriken into the closest enemy’s gut. Another Dragonlord nearly decapitated me, but I managed to cut deep into his right arm, rendering him unable to wield his weapon. He briefly threatened me with his dagger, which ended abruptly when my rapier pierced his chest, and thus it was the end for the other one as well.

By then, another throwing knife was poised in my left hand, retrieved from behind my collar. I used it to stall the closest opponent, then charged at another, feigning an attack just outside his sword’s reach. His counterattack missed its mark, then Opal flew into his face, and I slashed his chest and throat open with my rapier.

Something shifted in my periphery, prompting me to sidestep and thrust forward, wondering if Drevolan was my unintended target. But no, I impaled a different foe and was past him before he collapsed. Catching sight of Drevolan in a fierce battle, I was about to aid him when Opal’s scream echoed in my mind. I ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding a sword swooshing over my head.

Rising, I faced my attacker, launched two feints, and then sliced her throat open. Drevolan was engaged with two opponents, and while I contemplated assisting him, another enemy rushed me. I don’t recall how I dealt with him, but I must have since I emerged unscathed.

Surveying the surroundings for more threats, I found none—just the wounded dead and the dead-dead, so to say. I pondered what fate awaited those who died here, both the already dead and the still-living.

Drevolan cast a scathing look at me. I disregarded him, wiping my rapier clean before sheathing it, striving to catch my breath. Opal settled on my shoulder, echoing my defiance in his mind. As Drevolan began to speak, I interjected, “Enough, jerk. You may find this duel-against-multiple-enemies a fascinating sport, but I don’t enjoy being challenged. They wanted to end me. They failed. That’s all.”

He blanched, stepping towards me. “You never learn, do you?” He lifted his sword, aiming it at me.

I extended my hand. “Slaying an unarmed man? That would be a stark departure from honor, wouldn’t it?”

After an intense stare, he spat on the ground. “Let’s move,” he commanded.

Leaving my various weapons embedded in the bodies they had chosen to inhabit, I trailed behind him deeper into the realm of the dead.

I found myself hoping the rest of the deceased we encountered would be more tranquil.

* * * *

There are moments when you simply have to rely on someone. Liora would have been my first choice, but her whereabouts were unknown. So, I handed Thorne some cash and requested him to procure a seven-inch-bladed stiletto, discreetly. He accomplished the task within an afternoon, not raising any queries.

I checked the knife’s balance and approved of it. I dedicated an hour to honing the tip in my apartment. Although it shouldn’t have taken that long, I was more accustomed to sharpening blades for slicing veggies or meat, not piercing bodies. It’s a distinct art. Once it was sharp enough, I painted the blade and, after some contemplation, the handle, with a layer of matte black. I left the actual edge of the blade unpainted.

As I finished, evening was setting in. I returned to Fedya’s place, positioning Opal in the window. I took a spot around the corner and began my vigil.

“Well, Opal? Is he there?”

“Mmm… yes, boss, I see him.”

“Is he accompanied by his pal?”

“Yes. And a few more.”

“Are you certain you’re concealed?”

“Don’t fret about it, boss.”

“Alright. We’ll hang tight, then.”

I rehearsed my plan, or what little of it existed, a couple of times mentally, then settled down for a considerable wait. I kept myself entertained by constructing snippets of terrible poetry, which reminded me of a Terran girl named Lilia, who I’d dated for a few months the previous year. Hailing from South Avandryl, where the majority of humans reside, she was likely drawn to me due to my wealth and perceived toughness. I guess I am quite resilient, upon reflection.

Regardless, her influence was beneficial, though short-lived. She desired affluence and sophistication, and had a disputatious streak. Learning to hold my tongue when insulted by Imperion punks was a work in progress for me, and she was instrumental in that, given that the only way to tolerate her was by biting my tongue when she blurted outrageous comments about Imperions or the Vorgan or whatever. Our time together was enjoyable, but she ultimately left for one of the island duchies that offered generous remuneration for human singers. I missed her, albeit mildly.