Chapter 20: Duel
The wave of the crystal's power moved across the land, encasing it with its supernatural energy. It flowed from every blade of wilted grass to every acre of dry soil, invigorating it all as it went by, and much to his maddening glee, the King could feel it, all of it.
Years of research, rites and spilled blood had proven their worth; he could see the vision clear in his mind's eye. A dream come to life, a kingdom reborn, and it would all soon be his to command, bent and bound to his being and image.
However, unbeknownst to the entranced King, Inigo too felt this surge of power coursing through his veins. His wounds and fatigue began to seal and fade away, and though it was not an immediate effect, nor was the heinous touch of the crystal's magic comfortable whatsoever, it was more than enough. No longer was his strength a flicker, nor was his spirit dampened by the idea of failure, only rage existed inside of him, building up as he stared at Aalik's unconscious, floating shape contorting erratically inside of the magical orb.
The soldier pinning him down did not see it coming. Surprised and pushed by Inigo's sudden, violent roll, the soldier tumbled and fell to ground. The last thing the man saw was the blackness of the split sky, tinted green by the crystal's magic, before feeling the blade, of his own stolen saber, slice clean through his neck.
The soldiers closest Inigo wasted no time hastily drawing their swords, as they tried to overrun the lone swordsman, but as soon as they attempted to strike him down, Inigo had already cut through them in a single, swift motion. However, just as Inigo was in the middle of finishing his spinning maneuver, the sounds of tensing bowstrings rang in his ears, prompting him to loosen his stance and hold a breath of anticipation.
Arrows flew and fell, prey to a parry beyond compare. The last few longbow men trembled at the sight, what remained of their fearful humanity unearthing. Such was their fear, that they fumbled the reloading of their bows while Inigo rushed towards them, as inclement and merciless like the blizzard itself. They fell as unceremoniously as their arrows, painting the snow red with their blood.
Inigo stood surrounded by the bodies of the fallen soldiers, glaring intensely at the King with tangible, murderous intent.
The King laughed in response to Inigo's threat, his reverberating amusement shaking the earth in the same manner as the crystal's thrumming pulse.
The malignant wave sent prickles through Inigo's skin as instinctual fear clashed with rage, but he did not waver.
The King smiled earnestly. "Marvelous, splendid, simply enchanting! Truly, your character and showmanship knows no bounds swordsman!" The King proclaimed; his voice now joined by countless, spectral others as he spoke and released further ripples of the foul energy.
Inigo walked forth, unintimidated by the King's display, as well as the crystal's grotesque aura.
Amused by Inigo's approach, the King merely waited, before a sense of recognition showed in his glowing eyes. He turned his head towards the entrance of the mountaintop and smiled expectantly. "Wouldn't you agree Gudmand?"
Inigo stopped and turned back. The scars in Inigo's face burned, as he recognized the shape of the armored man walking from the snow-covered shadows, just beyond the mountaintop. Memories of defeat came back to him like whiplash, strengthening his grip on the saber.
Gudmand's face was blank and impassive compared to Inigo's, but his sword was drawn and prepared, a request Inigo wasted no time to fulfill.
Inigo tossed the stolen saber away and sprinted towards his real sword, which lay amongst the many sprawling bodies in the snow, and in one fluid motion, picked up, unsheathed and brandished his weapon, before pointing it directly at his opponent.
Gudmand showed no reaction. He stood still, waiting.
Inigo rushed in, raining down on Gudmand with a series of ferocious strikes, each movement and swing of the blade a masterful vision of death, guided and fueled by Inigo's boundless rage. Gudmand met the assault head-on, dodging eternity's grasp at every turn with his own set of flawless parries and counters. It was a seamless dance of steel against steel, where neither of the two masters could out-match the other, for they did so in unison.
Their clashing emotions were but guises, sides of the same coin put against the odds of causality, but their wills were as equal as their strikes were true. It was then, at that moment of a simultaneous, cancelled counter, that Inigo broke through his own blinding fury and Gudmand's mask, allowing him to see the fire in his opponent's eyes.
It was a fire that revealed not only the complete and total admiration of his adversary, but also a genuine sense of camaraderie and unity, one that could only be born and proven in a time of great need. A fire that re-ignited his own.
What followed was an unspoken agreement between the two warriors as they ceased their battle and transitioned into a calculated dance, a performance capable of entrapping those trained in the art of the sword just as well as the common folk, as if it were a genuine series of questions and answers, far beyond the reaches of imagination.
And what a show it was for the King! His grin was wide from eye to eye, observing every immaculate detail of this once in a lifetime experience, seconded only by the nearing dawn of his coming era. In fact, his power-ridden confidence and enrapture were such that he paid no heed to the voices of the crystal, calling out to him with every side step and exchange of blows, which masked the near- imperceptible movement of the swordsmen, as they shuffled their way towards him.
This was truly a sight to behold and take in! His finest warrior clashing with an equal, all for his sake and his alone. Ironically, his late father had proven of more worth than just that of a worthless, flesh sacrifice, meant to fulfill a now pointless rite that marked his entire body.
By allowing skill to rise above rank in the search of military might, the late monarch had unknowingly given his son a memory he would treasure for eons to come, during the forthcoming of his new age. The King, now fully lost in this hypnotic dance of blades, silently commended the two combatants for their skill in awe, for he found no words to be fitting.
It was at that moment of profound immersion, where one's notion of time and place lessens, that Inigo and Gudmand began their final act. They struck with excessive, resounding force, as to repel each other back a fair distance. The King applauded.
Their fierce gazes met at the standstill, feigning a rivalry that had already ended. The King clamored.
Their blades and stances flowed and weaved, building the anticipation of the exchange that would ultimately decide the victor. The King encored.
And so they did, by striking directly at his heart.