99 Lord of War (1/2)

”There's no need for that,” Ardeen Spellweaver said after he noticed my hand reach down to my sword hilt.

Reaching for my weapon was an unconscious action, but my body simply reacted to the pressure exuding out of this masked elf. It was like an uncomfortable heat grazed my skin—as if I'd walked too close to a roaring bonfire in the middle of summer.

Aura must have felt that same pressure as she'd maneuvered Starlight closer to Myth Chaser so that our legs were close enough to brush against each other.

”There's no need to be afraid either,” Ardeen Spellweaver assured us. He raised both hands palms forward for emphasis. ”I only seek discourse with you before this battle ends.”

The self-assured way he sounded when he mentioned that the battle would end soon like he was so certain of it, rubbed me the wrong way. Sadly, the sound of shadowblades clashing interrupted me before I could give a rebuttal.

Both Ardeen Spellweaver and I turned our heads back to the fight that had restarted.

I wasn't sure which of them broke the blade lock, but it seemed both great generals were eager to cut each other up again. Neither of them held back with each swing of their swords.

Great General Spellweaver leaped forward and swung his oversized falchion downward onto Darah's face. She parried with her golden sword.

Spellweaver swung sideward, almost reaching Darah's chest, but she blocked it with her sword, her free hand clutching onto the flat of her shadowblade to reinforce it.

With both hands on her sword, Darah pushed the weapon forward, forcing Spellweaver back a step. He, in turn, countered with a single-hand side slash that would have cut into Darah had she not dodged to the side.

Both fighters were now a slight distance apart from each other, both eyeing the other like rival wolves vying for dominance of the pack.

”Incredible, aren't they?” Ardeen Spellweaver said. ”They're like calamities, the pair of them.”

As we felt each blow after blow from their sword swings reverberate out to the surrounding crowd like invisible waves, I couldn't help but think his description of them was kind of accurate.

”Of course, I thought Azuma had the makings of a calamity himself…” Spellweaver's tone was contemplative, forcing me to glance sideways at him. He too was looking at me, smiling in that impish smile common to guys like Thom. ”And yet I find you here alive despite the trap I set for you and the warrior I charged to kill you.”

His smile seemed to grow even wider.

”You have surpassed my expectations, boy touched by fire,” he said happily, as if he wasn't at all upset that I ruined his evil plan to get me and my friends killed.

”It wasn't easy,” I admitted. ”If the failure of your stupid Curse of the Morrigan didn't weaken Azuma so much, I might have been the one to die.”

Spellweaver's smile wavered slightly. ”So, he's dead then?”

”Yeah,” I lied. Better he thought that I'd killed Azuma rather than figure out I could free him from Ardeen's clutches. ”You sacrificed your knight and failed to capture my king.”

Spellweaver's eyes searched me, and I did my best to look stoic.

”Well, it looks to me like your king's still in a bind,” he replied to my chess reference with one of his own.

Another loud boom quickly followed by a sudden gush of force that whipped at my hair and made Myth Chaser shake beneath me.

I turned my eyes back on the fight and felt them go as wide as Oreos. ”What in mud's sake…?”

Darah's golden sword was wrapped in flames. Opposite her, Spellweaver's own falchion was covered in a sheet of air that was like a tornado shaped like a blade. Only, it must have been twice the length of Spellweaver's already oversized falchion.

”Augmentare!” Luca yelled excitedly.

He was right, but not even Jimmy's flames radiated the same golden hue as Darah's sword did. Nor did I see Azuma wield a coating of water as dense as the wind wrapped around Spellweaver's falchion. If anything, the generals' elemental weapons had much more power poured into them.

”Shall we make a wager, boy touched by fire?” Ardeen Spellweaver's voice rang clear despite the clamor of the crowd. ”My father or your master. Which of the two shall triumph?”

I couldn't respond. I couldn't even spare him a glance as I was worried I'd miss the clash if I did anything but pay attention. Something in my gut told me this was the deciding clash.

Both generals leaped forward. Darah sent her shadowblade in a sideward arc while Spellweaver swung his shadowblade downward. And in the seconds before their blades met, I asked Ardeen Spellweaver, ”Your dad knows that air makes fire stronger, right?”

Just as I'd predicted, the meeting of Darah's flame sword and Spellweaver's air blade caused a reaction any high schooler could have warned them about. Fire plus air equaled combustion. It was basic science. Sure air only had around twenty-one percent oxygen in it but that would have been enough for a blaze to come to life.

The fiery explosion that spread out from the point of impact of their shadowblades might have blown any old visere or fairy away, but being a great general really had weight to it—literally. In fact, the surrounding crowd pulled back from both the outward surging heat and flames, but neither Darah nor Spellweaver seemed fazed by the extreme pyrotechnics happening around them. Their deadly dance continued.

While fire and air combusted between them, Darah twirled around to dodge another of Spellweaver's downward slashes. Her momentum sent her jumping upward in a spinning heel kick that would have smacked Spellweaver in the head if he hadn't dodged in time.

Darah's sword came rushing down as she landed back on the ground, but Spellweaver raised his sword in time to parry it.

They circled around each other.

Spellweaver launched another attack but Darah caught his sword-hand mid-swing in an amazing show of martial talent.