The Road to Death

57

Kandler cursed as Ibrido’s sword hacked off another section of his blade. At this rate, he’d soon be left with nothing but his hilt.

The dragon-elf smirked as he aimed another blow at Kandler’s head. “Give up, human,” he said. “You can’t win.”

Kandler said nothing as he retreated in a wide circle, trying not to let Ibrido back him into a corner. As soon as that happened, the dragon-elf would have him at his mercy. The justicar’s sword wasn’t doing much to protect him. The only thing he had going for him was space.

He tried to work his way past Ibrido, to make a break for the bridge. There, he’d have Sallah and Duro to help him, but the Karrn always managed to step into his way.

Kandler saw Sallah break free from the bridge and come dashing toward him. He just needed to hold Ibrido off for a few more moments, and she’d be at his side.

The dragon-elf heard the knight’s footfalls pounding up behind him, though, and redoubled his efforts to bring Kandler down. His dragon-fang sword flashed about like a hummingbird, picking away at Kandler’s defenses until he could barely see from the sweat pouring down into his eyes.

The justicar gave up all conscious thought about the swordplay and let his training take over. The only things left to him were the sound of Ibrido’s sword clanging against his own, the impact of the clashing blades jarring his arm, and the thought that he had to kill this creature to save his daughter.

Just as Kandler thought his will to keep his defenses up might falter, Ibrido cried out and fell backward, clutching at his back with his free arm. A moment later, he drew a crossbow bolt out of his shoulder, the end of it dripping with his fresh, red blood.

Kandler spotted Duro standing on the bridge, reloading his weapon. He breathed a word of thanks to the dwarf, then watched as Sallah raced up to the dragon-elf, her blazing sword held over her head, ready for a two-handed blow.

Still howling in pain from the bolt, Ibrido spun and met Sallah’s attack, parrying her mighty chop with his fangblade. As the swords met, Kandler held his breath. Sallah’s sword was a sacred icon, holy to her and her church. That didn’t mean, though, that it could stand against the amazing edge of the dragon-elf’s weapon.

Sparks flew as the blades clashed off each other, and both blades held. The magic in Sallah’s blade made it stronger than Kandler’s, the justicar realized. While his had been the finest sword in Mardakine, it was just steel, forged by his friend Rislinto and given its razor edge by hours of sharpening during the dull hours working the town watch. It could not hope to stand against something as marvelous as the fangblade.

Kandler wondered the same thing about himself. Here he stood, only a man, nothing to aid him but his own skill and determination. He was no knight, no shaman, no wizard, and he had to face monstrous creatures like Ibrido and his magical sword. What hope did he have against such power, much less that of a full-fledged dragon?

Still, Kandler had never been one to worry about the odds. If there was a way to defeat Ibrido, he would find it, then he’d kill the dragon too.

It wasn’t for himself that he’d do it. He’d had a full life, seen many things, fought many a foe for all sorts of good causes. He’d loved and been loved more than he’d had any right to expect. If the Keeper came for his soul now, he’d let that dark god take his hand, but to give up on himself meant giving up on Esprë too, and that he refused to do.

Kandler reversed his grip on the hilt-shard of his sword and hurled himself at Ibrido as the dragon-elf turned to face Sallah full on. He plunged the bit into the dragon-elf’s shoulder, but the weapon turned on the creature’s scaly green hide.

While parrying yet another blow from the lady knight, Ibrido turned and slammed his elbow into Kandler’s face, knocking the justicar to the deck. As he fell to his knees, Kandler spun toward the dragon-elf, trying to catch him in the back of his legs and take him to the deck along with him.

Ibrido leaped backward over Kandler instead, and Sallah nearly ran the justicar through. To keep from doing so, she threw herself to the side, away from both him and the dragon-elf.

This left Kandler on his knees before Ibrido. The dragon-elf wasn’t one to ignore such an opportunity, the justicar knew. He fought the instinct to raise his hands to protect himself. If the fangblade could cut through steel, it would slice through his bones like warm butter.

Instead of trying to scramble away, he launched himself at the dragon-elf again, this time aiming for Ibrido’s middle. If he could get in under the blade’s reach, he reasoned, he might have a chance.

Kandler’s tackle knocked Ibrido back, but he couldn’t manage to wrap his arms around the creature’s slippery scales. For a moment, he thought he had a chance, but the dragon-elf stiff-armed him in the jaw and shoved him back again.

Still trying for a tackle, Kandler stepped forward, but this time Ibrido managed to get his blade up in time, and he ran it right through the justicar’s guts.

Kandler felt the point of the fangblade stab into the wall of his abdomen and pass through his coiled intestines before passing out his back, just nicking his spine. The pain was incredible, like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he knew right then that he was dead. The only question left was how long it would take for him to draw his last breath.

Desperate to sell his life dearly, Kandler grasped at the hilt of the fangblade. His fingers clasped over those of Ibrido’s, and the dragon-elf bared its teeth at him.

“You were a fine foe,” Ibrido said. “Give my regards to the Keeper.”

With that, the dragon-elf put a boot to Kandler’s belly and shoved him off his blade. The justicar’s hot, thick blood poured out after the withdrawn sword, drenching his clothes as he fell to the deck in a heap.

He heard voices screaming: Sallah’s and—somewhere far away—Esprë’s too.