Chapter Three
The fight was long, but Antonio did not need to fake any disadvantage against the man.
His first three thrusts were deflected and dodged; the masked man's feet did not move. The masked man responded with three stabs of his sword, all of which Antonio dodged in much the same way.
The Cliffs of Insanity had once been part of a kingdom long dead. They had received their name because said kingdom would execute people by throwing them over the edge into the water below. The screams often drove their executioners insane.
...There were some odd facts Antonio really wished he didn't know.
Now, the stone buildings which had once stood there had crumbled into ruins, leaving the odd staircase and higher platform standing on a flat dirt plain, and the two thrust and parried back and forth, slowly moving up away from the ground and back from the cliff face.
"You are using Bonetti's defense against me, ah?" Antonio cried, recognizing the fighting style.
The masked man gave a slight shrug, twitching his shoulders up. "I thought it fitting, considering the rocky terrain."
"Naturally, you must expect me to attack with Capo Ferro."
"Naturally," the masked man agreed. "However, I find that Thibault cancels Capo Ferro."
He jumped back off the rock ledge they had climbed to back to the ground.
"Unless the enemy has studied his Agrippa," Antonio grinned, leaping after him, "which I have!" As though a switch had been flipped, the battle suddenly became much more difficult. Antonio found himself struggling to block, and they began moving up a crumbling staircase. "You are amazing!"
"I have worked hard to become so."
"You are better than I am."
The statement, while clearly true (at least while Antonio fought left-handed), seemed to throw the masked man. "Then why are you smiling?"
"Because I know something you do not!" The masked man just looked at him. "I am not left-handed."
For a moment, it seemed like he might gain the upper hand, forcing the masked man back a step with each blow.
"You're amazing!"
"After twenty years of study, I would certainly hope so," Antonio agreed. No one ever said he was modest.
"Thought I am afraid I have not been entirely honest with you. I am not left-handed either."
From there, it was a lost cause. Antonio's sword was knocked from his hand, and he dropped back onto the ground, scuttling away from the swordpoint edging closer. This man... this man! Whoever he was, he was very good. His lungs were desperate for air, and he doubted he would be able to pick up his sword even if it was in his hands. "Who are you?" he gasped.
The masked man shrugged. "Unimportant."
"But I must know!"
"Get used to disappointment."
Well, it had been worth a shot. "Okay." He dropped to his knees in surrender, letting his eyes flutter shut. "Kill me quickly."
The masked mat was standing behind Antonio, and for a moment he didn't reply. "I would as soon destroy a stained glass window as an artist like yourself," he finally stated, rather calmly for what Antonio expected to happen. "But I cannot have you follow me, either."
And then there was a sharp pain in the back of Antonio's head, and then he knew nothing at all.
The masked man sheathed his sword, then picked up the sword which Domingo Carriedo had made and set it down next to Antonio. "Please understand that I hold you in the highest respect," he said with a nod. "But I have things I need to be doing."
Ivan glanced over his shoulder several times as he walked, carrying Feliciano over his shoulder, in the hopes that he might see Antonio coming to catch up with them. All of these times that he looked back, the path and the hills were completely remote. Then, he looked back, and there was a masked figure rushing toward them, far in the distance, but growing steadily closer.
He intended to say something to his employer, but Vizzini picked up on the break in his step and whipped around.
"Inconceivable!" the man roared, and Ivan sighed. "Give him to me! Catch up with us quickly." He tugged Feliciano out of Ivan's arms, the young boy tripping and falling at the sudden movement, and started off.
"What do I do?"
"Finish him, finish him! Finish him your way!"
Ivan looked down at his feet, lips twisted slightly, then looked back up. "What way is my way?"
Vizzini turned and glared. "Pick up one of those rocks, get behind the boulder. In a few minutes the man in black is going to come running around the bend. The minute his head is in view, hit it with the rock!"
Then he left, and Ivan stood by himself on a hill littered with small boulders.
Ivan began working with Vizzini because he needed money. He once worked in Siberia with his sisters, where it was very cold, and their house and clothes were not very warm. When the opportunity came for better money, he took it, but his sisters had to stay behind, and Ivan hadn't been able to go back to them yet like he had promised.
Working with Vizzini had not brought him a lot of money, and he didn't even like the man. He didn't like killing, either, but the only reason Antonio wouldn't be rushing to catch up with them would be because he was dead, and that meant the masked man had killed Antonio.
Ivan had liked Antonio, and he could not let himself die because he still had to go back to his sisters. So, rather reluctantly, he picked up a small boulder (heavy to most, rather light to him) and went to hide behind a boulder.
Not long later he heard footsteps, first coming at a very rapid pace, then slowing down to something more moderate. Ivan, when the footsteps had grown very close, threw the rock in his hand.
And missed, of course. Throwing a rock at someone without them knowing you were there was not very sportsmanlike at all, and Ivan believed in a fair fight.
The masked man drew his sword.
"I do that on purpose," Ivan told the masked man. "I not have to miss."
"...I believe you," the masked man said after a pause. He knew that if Ivan had wanted him dead, he would be dead. "What now?"
"We face each other properly." Ivan held up his hands. "No tricks, no weapons, skill against skill alone."
The masked man frowned. "You won't pick up more rocks, and I will put down my sword, and we will kill each other like civilized people?"
Ivan nudged a rock with his toe. "I could kill you now, da?"
"The odds are in your favor at hand fighting," the man pointed out, but he set his sword down on the ground all the same.
"Not my fault I am biggest and strongest. I don't even exercise!"
It was true, to a point. He had not always been the biggest and strongest; he and his sisters did not have very much food growing up, so he had not been very healthy. Still, he was a giant, so even that disadvantage had faded in time.
The masked man charged straight at Ivan, planting his shoulder directly into his gut.
Ivan blinked.
The masked man stumbled back, grunting at the impact. Then he charged again, this time wrapping his arms around Ivan's waist in an attempt to overbalance him.
Ivan took a couple steps backward, slowly and deliberately to make sure the masked man didn't fall over.
"What is this" the masked man demanded.
"I want you to feel you do well!" Ivan replied cheerfully. "Not fun to die embarrassed."
Embarrassment was certainly not fun at all.
Ivan swiped at the masked man, but the other was very quick and light on his feet, and rolled away before his fist could back contact. "Ah! You are fast."
"Yes," the masked man agreed, dodging another swing.
"Why do you wear mask? Were you burned by acid?" Two more swipes; neither made contact.
"Nein, but they are very comfortable. Everyone will be wearing them in the future." Swipe. The masked man rolled again, ducking underneath Ivan's fist and leaping onto his back, wrapping his arms around Ivan's neck. The Russian giant promptly walked backwards into a boulder; the masked man grunted, but didn't let go.
"I just realize why you give me so much trouble," Ivan said casually.
"And why is that?"
"I haven't fought just one person in long time. Been fighting groups instead! Battle gangs for local charities, da?" He walked backwards into another rock. "Last time I fight just one person it was loud farm boy with glasses. Stronger than he looked, da, da..."
"And why does that make-" Ivan walked backward into a rock for a third time, knocking the breath out of the masked man. "...a difference?"
"Well, you use different moves when fighting ten people than when you only worry... about..."
Was his vision going black?
"...one."
Indeed it was.
The masked man hopped off of Ivan's back as the giant toppled to the ground, unconscious. Carefully, he rolled the giant over and listened for a heartbeat, and upon finding one, nodded in satisfaction and got up to his feet.
"Your friend will find you when he shows up," he stated. "And I imagine you will have an awful headache by then. In the meantime, rest well and dream of... er, large women."
Feliciano couldn't see.
The Spaniard Antonio hadn't been very mean to him. Feliciano didn't trust him, of course, but Antonio had not been cruel to him in the time he was held captive. Ivan was really scary, but then again... then again, Ludwig had been scary sometimes, too. He was so terribly serious when Feliciano first met him, and he almost never smiled, and...
"Cry all you like, it won't help you now, Prince!"
Bastardo. If his brother Lovino were here, he'd be cursing Vizzini out as a disgrace to the country. Feliciano just stayed silent.
Ivan was really scary, but he was gentle. He hadn't hurt Feliciano at all.
It was Vizzini who was the scary one, the bad one. Feliciano was more scared on his own with one very short man then he had been when he was with three, the other two being a master swordsman and a giant.
Vizzini pushed him down onto a rock, barked "Sit!" very loudly, and began moving around. Feliciano wasn't sure what he was doing, but he never moved very far, and therefore the captive Italian just tried to keep his breathing steady.
He missed Grandpa Roma. He missed his brother, for all that the older man swore and cursed. He missed his farm and his horse. Oh, he just wanted to be home again!
Within a short amount of time, Feliciano heard footsteps, and he could also hear the smirk in Vizzini's voice when he spoke.
"So it is down to you, and it is down to me." There was a pause. "If you wish him dead, by all means, keep moving forward."
Something cold and sharp was suddenly pressed against Feliciano's through, and a hand roughly grabbed his hair to tilt his head up, drawing an involuntary yelp.
"Let me explain-" The voice was unfamiliar, with a thick accent that just reminded Feliciano of Ludwig and made everything hurt even more.
The knife Vizzini held dug in to Feliciano's neck. "There's nothing to explain. You're trying to kidnap what I have rightfully stolen."
"We might reach an arrangement?"
"There will be no arrangement. You're killing him!"
There had been a time when Feliciano had wanted to die, but that time was long past. He had to live to see his grandfather and brother again; he had to live to find Ludwig's missing brother and get help for Ludwig's grandfather; he had to live because it was what Ludwig would have wanted him to do.
"If there can be no arrangement, then we are at an impasse."
"I'm afraid so," Vizzini agreed. "I can't compete with you physically, and you're no match for my brains."
Oh, shut up, Feliciano thought. You don't even know how to sail a ship. My Ludwig knew how to do that.
"You're that smart?" the mystery man asked.
"Have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?"
"Yes."
"Morons."
Arrogant.
"Really. In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits."
"For the Prince?" A pause. "To the death?" A pause. "I accept."
The knife left Feliciano's throat, and he felt that he could breathe a little easier.
"Good," the mystery man said. "Then pour the wine." When did Vizzini get wine? He hadn't been carrying any bags with him. Feliciano was tempted to say that it wasn't even good wine, but Vizzini was Italian. It was impossible for an Italian to have bad taste in wine, as his brother once said. "Inhale this, but do not touch."
Feliciano wished he wasn't blindfolded.
"I smell nothing," Vizzini huffed.
"What you do not smell is called Iocane powder," the mystery man said. "It is odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in liquid, and is among the more deadly poisons known to man."
"Hm!"
There was a long pause, then the sound of something behind set down. Glasses of wine on a table? "Where is the poison? This is our battle of wits. It ends when you decide and we both drink, and find out who is right and who is dead."
Vizzini laughed. "But it's so simple! All I have to do is divine from what I know of you: are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet or his enemy's? A clever man would put the poison into his own goblet, because he would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I am not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool, you would have counted on it, so I clearly cannot choose the wine in front of me!"
Feliciano was getting confused.
"You've made your decision then?" came the mystery man's voice.
"Not remotely!" Vizzini cackled. "Because Iocane come from Australia, as everyone knows, and Australia is entirely populated by criminals, and criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you."
"Your intellect is truly dizzying."
Feliciano couldn't tell because of the blindfold, but he was pretty sure the mystery man accompanied his sarcasm with an eye roll. Vizzini didn't seem to notice.
"Wait till I get going!" he shouted. "Where was I?"
Australia.
"Australia," the mystery man prompted.
"Yes, Australia. And you must have suspected I would have known the powder's origin, so I clearly cannot choose the wine in front of me."
Are you stalling?
"You're stalling now."
"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you!" Vizzini cried. "You've beaten my giant, which means you're exceptionally strong, so you could have put the poison in your own goblet, trusting on your strength to save you, so I clearly cannot chose the wine in front of you. But you've also bested my Spaniard, which means you must have studied, and in studying you must have learned that man is mortal, so you would have put the poison as far from yourself as possible, so I clearly cannot choose the wine in front of me!"
Be quiet.
"You're trying to trick me into giving something away. It won't work."
"It has worked! You've given everything away!" Vizzini shouted too much. "I know where the poison is!"
"Then make your choice."
"I will, and I choose- what in the world can that be?"
Feliciano tensed; another threat? Was Antonio coming back? Perhaps the mystery man had only knocked Ivan unconscious instead of killing him? Was it the Prince?
"What? Where?" The mystery man sounded confused. "I don't see anything."
"Well, I- I could have sworn I saw something." Vizzini sounded smug. Feliciano got worried. "No matter."
"What's so funny?"
"I'll tell you in a minute. First, let's drink. Me from my glass, and you from yours!"
There was the sound of metal clinking together, like in a toast.
"You guessed wrong," the mystery man said.
"You only think I guessed wrong!" Vizzini shrieked, so loudly that Feliciano jumped. "That's what so funny! I switched glasses when your back was turned! Ha ha! You fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders! The most famous is never get involved in a land war in Russia, but only slightly less well-known is this: never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line! Ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!" He cackled madly to himself, growing louder and louder, and then suddenly, everything went silent.
Moments later, a heavy thud.
There were hands close to Feliciano's face, and he flinched, but then the blindfold was pulled away and the masked man was directly in front of him. His hair was completely covered, as was the upper part of his face, but he had a small goatee and a pair of startlingly blue eyes.
"Who are you?" Feliciano asked as calmly as he could manage.
"I am no one to be trifled with," the masked man said, cutting through the bonds around Feliciano's hands and feet. "That is all you need to know."
Vizzini was lying dead on the ground, just inches away from Feliciano's food. "It was your cup that was poisoned?"
"They were both poisoned. I spent the last few years building an immunity to Iocane powder."
He grabbed Feliciano's arm and they started to run.
Midterms popped up and got in the way of updating. Oops...? Anyway, we're back to weekly updates now. Hope you enjoyed!
