Author's Note: I tried to keep the dueling terminology simple, but here is a link for a glossary of fencing terms:
Reviews are greatly appreciated and encourage me to write faster.
Chapter 9
Jack smiled as he walked towards the clearing where the duel was to take place. His Samantha had kissed him, knowing his true identity. Death would be well worth it for that one moment alone, though he wished there had been time to savor the moment. But neither death nor hell itself could ever take away the moment where his Samantha had truly been his. The feel of her arms around him would carry him to the grave in peace.
The clearing was filled with a large audience, as many of last night's guests came to watch the duel. Amongst the gawkers, the Marquis stood, looking bored in an eggplant colored suit that was reminiscent of John Grant's leather jacket. The reminder of the VCTF clown brought an unholy expression of glee to Jack's face. Maybe he would die for his Samantha's honor, but Jack was going to have some fun first. He swore to draw blood from the man at least once before it was over.
"Ah Viscomte, I wondered if you would show," the Marquis sneered. "Personally, I don't place much value on women, but your whore must be quite something if you're willing to die for her. Do you think I should call on her when you're gone?"
Jack became enraged as the man continued to snipe at him and insult Samantha. No man had ever spoken that way of his Samantha and lived to tell the tale. Barely contained fury that threatened to consume him, Jack's facial muscles ticked slightly. Familiar with a sword or not, Jack was more than ready to begin. As Jack removed his coat and handed it to one of his servants that was there to attend him, his eyes narrowed to fiery slits as he pulled a pair of leather gauntlets onto his hands.
A strange man appeared at Jack's elbow, "Viscomte Commerces, I am Comte Andre Dupres. The Marquis asked that as you have no seconds that I mediate. Is that acceptable to you?"
Jack shrugged indifferently, "Fine."
Comte Andre stood in the middle of the clearing and spoke loudly, "Gentlemen, you will stand back to back, with your swords in hand and on my say so you will walk five paces. Then, turn and salute before presentation of your blades. Although the match is to the death, you must stop if I tell you to, until I order re-engagement. Any questions?"
Both men shook their heads. The Marquis handed his coat off and stood before Andre and turned his back to Jack. Jack stood calmly as the Comte ordered them to begin walking. As the paces were counted off, Jack strode forward, sword in hand. At the end of the five paces, he turned to face Gaspar. In the early morning mist, the two men faced each other and saluted.
Andre stepped back and declared, "En Garde."
Instantly both rapiers were in the air and blades were presented. Jack stood gracefully with his left hand behind his waist as he brought his sword up with his right to block the attack of Gaspar's blade. Movement was slow to start as the men warmed up and gauged one another's fighting style. Gradually the blades began to sing and the play between the swords sped up. The Marquis made a lunge with his sword that Jack narrowly deflected from hitting his waist. Countering with a balestra attack, Jack nearly managed to hit Gaspar's shoulder.
The crowd murmured and took bets as the men moved back and forth in a volley of thrusts and parries. A surprise riposte by the Marquis resulted in a shallow slice to Jack's left shoulder, leaving a crimson slash of blood on his white shirt. Rapidly he recovered and again engaged his blade with Gaspar's. The two men circled around one another and the echo of metal on metal reverberated through the clearing. As the pair fought the crowd became more animated and excited, the Comte had lasted far longer than most had against the Marquis.
In an elegant and deadly dance the Jack and Gaspar attacked and parried with near lightning speed. Although he was fighting hard and could have equaled or surpassed the Marquis with time, Jack was fighting an uphill battle. He blocked many of Gaspar's attacks and came close to hitting him several times, but the Marquis had the upper hand and made several lacerations that destroyed his waistcoat and left his shirt bloodied and tattered. One of the attacks pierced Jack's midsection and it bled profusely. Comte Andre asked if Jack wished to pause for a few moments, but Jack merely shook his head and continued to fight. The end was drawing nearer, the duel had gone on for just over an hour and Jack was beginning to tire from exertion and bloodloss. Just make Gaspar bleed for Samantha and he could surrender to the inevitable, Jack decided as his opponent's blade came down across his face.
The battle continued as Jack struggled to avoid further injuries. Then,Gaspar made a false attack and when Jack moved to parry, he was left vulnerable to the Marquis' blade. With a sharp lunge he brought his rapier towards Jack's groin. Jack got a deep cut to his inner thigh, that only narrowly missed hitting his femoral artery and manhood. Blood coursed down from his satin knee breeches to his white hose, but Jack didn't pause. Angered by the low blow, Jack pretended to be in pain, crouched and put his left hand to the ground. The Marquis raised his blade high, intending to kill him, when Jack brought his rapier up in a passata-sotto attack and flicked the blade across Gaspar's face.
The Marquis stumbled backwards in shock and brought his free hand to his face. Loudly he demanded Andre intercede.
"Arrete," Andre gave the order to stop.
Jack obeyed lowering his blade and through his injuries gave the Marquis a look of contempt over his fuss over the slight injury. As Gaspar's servants attended him, Jack was irritated that this would be the man to finish him. All these years as the world's greatest serial killer and a man who couldn't handle a single blow was going to finish him. Hell it would be less humiliating to be killed by Sam's young daughter Chloe.
He stalked over to his coat and pulled out a cigarette, he'd found tobacco and cigar paper in the desk last night, so Jack altered it slightly. One of the servants rushed forward to light it, though he looked at it strangely. Jack exhaled smoke from the crude nicotine, gratefully and he reached back into his jacket for his handkerchief to wipe the blood that was dripping into his eye. As he pulled out the embroidered square, he caught the scent of roses and paused. Must be blood loss he decided, dismissing the scent as wistful thoughts of his beloved. Opening the cloth, Jack's heart turned over and he stared wide-eyed at the deep red rose.
It wasn't long stemmed as the roses he gave, looking at it he could tell the blossom had been torn rather than cut. Spotting the drops of dried blood on the white cloth, Jack knew Samantha had grabbed the blossom and placed it surreptitiously in his coat. His Samantha had given him a rose! Seeing the drops of her precious blood, Jack realized after all this time, his Samantha had finally touched the thorns. Whether she was aware of it or not, she had accepted his love and returned it when she bled for him. Jack's heart soared and he pressed his lips to the cloth.
As joy surged through him, the wounds no longer seemed to hurt as the adrenaline began to rush through his body. His Samantha loved him and she would be his at last. Looking down at his bloodied torso, Jack dismissed his injuries. If he could survive his Samantha's bullet, he sure as hell would survive an effeminate Frenchman with an oversized knife! He was THE Jack-Of-All-Trades and he wasn't ready to give up.
"Hey Andre!" Jack called out. "Is the princess ready to fight again yet? I want to get home in time for lunch with my fiancé!"
The Marquis felt slightly uneasy as he caught the maniacal gleam in the Viscomte's eye. Only a few moments before he could read the resignation in the man's eyes, but now, there was an unholy gleam to them. Gaspar nodded assent to Andre and the Comte ordered the pair to walk five paces again and then resume engagement. Jack strode confidently with his sword in hand and a smile on his face. As the pair turned to face one another, Gaspar got a sinking feeling.
As the Marquis and Jack resumed fighting, the tables began to shift. No longer was Jack struggling to keep up and to deflect attacks, now Gaspar was the one who was struggling.
"Who the hell do you think you are that you would even have a chance against me?" the Marquis demanded, trying desperately to distract his opponent.
"Me? I'm the Jack of All Trades." Jack laughed punctuating each word with a vicious blow that Gaspar struggled to block.
Jack began to advance rapidly pushing the Marquis further and further backwards across the clearing. His Samantha had given him all the inspiration he needed and now he was on fire as he manipulated the rapier with a fiercesome dexterity. As the Marquis retreat and parried desperately, Jack continued to lunge and attack . With each motion, Jack became more comfortable with the sword and grew more confident in his movements.
The flash of swords sped up to the point their movements were no longer discernible as the metal rapiers flashed repeatedly. Gaspar became nervous as lunge after lunge of his was parried effortlessly by the Viscomte. As they fought, Jack had a frightening smile on his face that the Marquis found disturbing. Desperation rising, Gaspar abandoned the rules of dueling and moved close to his opponent, engaging in full body contact, he attempted to command Jack's blade with his free hand. Now that the Marquis had broken the code of dueling, Jack was free to do so with impunity, his own honor in tact. Within a heartbeat of Gaspar failing to seize the sword, Jack relieved the Marquis of his. When he advanced with both blades, the Marquis fell backwards, sprawled on the ground.
Jack stood over the Marquis and brought the tip of his blade to the man's neck and rested the other against the man's thigh. With an almost bored tone, Jack informed him, "With a slight touch to your jugular or a press of the blade on your femoral artery, you would die within minutes."
Noting the terrified expression on Gaspar's face with satisfaction, Jack flicked the blade that had been near his throat upwards and sliced off his earlobe. As the Marquis grabbed his bleeding ear he howled in outrage, "Are you insane?"
"So I've been told," Jack replied nonchalantly. Then he said in a low voice dripping with venom, "The next time we meet, you will scream apologies for my Samantha."
Turning away from the Marquis, Jack picked up the rose and handkerchief. Blood loss was beginning to catch up to him and for a moment his step faltered. The Marquis snickered behind him. Jack paused to hand the precious blossom to a servant, then turned rapidly throwing Gaspar's sword without a moment's hesitation. The blade struck the ground between the Marquis' legs missing his cock by less than an inch.
"Your sword," Jack told him and bowed mockingly. He turned around, took Samantha's rose from the servant and walked slowly out of the clearing towards the house. His blood loss was substantial he noted as he walked, but Jack didn't care. Seeing his Samantha was all he cared about. Dizzy and aching, Jack walked up the steps of the manor and opened the door.
As he walked into the foyer, he spotted his Samantha sitting on the steps with her face buried in her hands. Hearing footsteps, she looked up to see him clutching her rose in his hand.
"Jack?" She rose and stared in disbelief.
"Honey, I'm home," Jack teased.
For a moment his eyes met hers, then he collapsed on the floor...