Chapter Fifty-Two
Goa, India, September 30, 2023:
Lady Ambergris II rocked gently in the waves offshore from the Western Indian town of Goa. They'd traversed the Indian Ocean without adventure and had generally enjoyed the trip. Masahiro had continued his training sessions with the other immortals, Cassandra had kept her distance from them all… and said little if anything… and Derrick had spent his nights in the cabin with Amber. During the day, he'd steered their little group toward the sub-continent without a word or a worried look.
In fact, they'd stopped at several coastal towns when they'd arrived at the Indian sub-continent… taking time to see and experience the magic that was India. They'd traveled slowly up the coast… intrigued by the people and customs.
In groups or in pairs, they explored the coastal cities and villages. As always, Derrick was drawn to the depressed areas of the cities, where he spent time listening and talking to the residents. Amber stayed by his side… worried that if she were here… someone would attack him… and yet fearful not to there. Gradually, as the days passed, the imminent threat of death faded from their minds.
In Goa, Derrick paused as wedding procession passed on the streets. Some prayer beads were tossed near them. Derrick picked them up, letting them wrap about his hands. He reverently pressed his palms together, letting the beads dangle from them, and bowed at the holy men in the procession. Amber listened to the jangling of the brass instruments and the sing-song chants of a language she did not know. The world seemed fully at peace.
Once the procession had passed, Derrick grabbed her hand as they threaded their way through the milling crowd. They'd become separated from some of the others during the procession, but he didn't seem worried.
Amber glanced around for the others though. She'd insisted quietly to the others that they not allow Derrick to go anywhere alone. She'd noticed Cassandra's worried looks at every port stop… and every time Derrick left the ship. But she said nothing, as if fearing that to say anything would make it so. Although Amber knew that Cassandra had basically seduced Derrick to protect him… she had yet to fully forgive her. She didn't blame her for her own leaving… or for trying to distract Derrick… but she couldn't quite let go of the fact that Derrick had made love to her.
"We've lost Burke and Wingate," she murmured as he pulled her along.
"They'll be along… or we'll meet up back at the ship." He seemed unconcerned as he shrugged. "You worry too much." Gradually his enthusiasm for working with some of the people of the area and showing her the sights of this foreign city lulled her into a false sense of security. It was a mistake. Fate has a way of insisting on its path and its victims. No matter how people try to avoid fate… the more it comes after them… and the worse it can sometimes be.
They'd just finished speaking with a group of beggars and had moved on when both of them felt the immortal. Derrick looked up and around while Amber looked behind them at the passing pedestrians. She saw no one looking at them.
"If we head back to the ship now," she started.
Derrick nodded without protest as they threaded their way back the way they came. But the presense of the other immortal followed them.
"What if it's Burke or Wingate or one of the others?" she tried again.
Derrick shook his head. "I don't think so. We stay in the crowd."
Amber agreed. If they were in the crowded streets, an attack was unlikely. But the mass of people in the wedding procession was blocking their way any further along the main thoroughfare.
Derrick looked about and then pulled Amber along into an alleyway to try and circle around the crowd. But it was a mistake. He knew it immediately as the elusive immortal presence seemed to be with them. After several attempts to go further, he ducked into an alley strung with laundry and faced Amber… holding her at arm's length.
"You need to go," he finally said. "There's something I want you to do."
"I canna go," she protested and then stopped. Cassandra's words hung in her memory. "You do something that causes his death."
Derrick shook her as he gripped her arms more tightly. "Promise me you'll do as I say. This is important!"
Amber nodded as tears welled into her eyes.
Derrick pulled the Great Sword from the lightweight coat she'd made him wear… fearful of his being off the ship without the sword. He opened her coat and pulled her cutlass out before securing the larger broadsword within it. Then he hid the cutlass in his coat. "Now listen to me carefully. I've had time to think this through. I don't want that sword to fall into the wrong hands. I need for you to take it to my sister on the Greek Island of Niebos."
"She's there?"
"Honestly? I don't' know. I do know that Phillip is likely there… and that he will contact her if she isn't. Promise me this Amber. You will give the sword to no one but her. It's important. Others may want it after I'm dead… but Ellie should have it. She knows what it is."
"I don't want you to die!"
He held her closely a moment. "I don't want to die… and maybe… if I send you away… it won't happen. Nevertheless… I want you and the sword gone. You have to leave me. Return to the ship. If I'm not there by nightfall… you and Caspar go over the charts I've made. They'll take you to Niebos by the shortest route." He kissed her tenderly.
Amber clung to him, not wanting him to go, but he held her at arm's length, winked at her and then took off down the alley. Passing amongst the lean-to's and shacks, he was soon out of her sight. She laid her arm on the wall of the building and her face on her arm as she sobbed for some moments. She felt utterly bereft. Finally she straightened and wiped her eyes. She turned to leave the alley. That's when she heard it.
At first it seemed more like a buzzing cloud of insects angrily swarming around her. Amber paused shaking her head. And then she heard a voice amidst the buzzing.
Use me to protect him!
Amber looked about, seeking the source of the whisper. She slipped a hand inside her coat and felt the hilt of the Great Sword. It seemed unusually warm to her touch… and it seemed to pulse. The insect sounds were more like many voices gradually becoming one voice.
Follow him! Protect him!
Amber closed her eyes. She could imagine the scene… Derrick on the ground with his opponent over him… ready to strike. She could… do what? Interfere? Amber shook her head. "Interfering in a challenge is forbidden!" She knew the rules. Connor had hammered them into her. But what if she got there before the fight began?
Amber looked back over her shoulder.
She'd promised him she'd go to the ship. But if there was a way to help… shouldn't she? On the other hand… Cassandra's warning rang in her thoughts: He dies because you are there… because of something you do. If she wasn't there… then maybe he'd be all right.
Protect!
What was this thing? Amber's hand released the hilt. The buzzing of a thousand insects returned and she felt like they were crawling all over. Her spine tingled with the feel of them… her head seemed swaddled with them. Her mouth dry, Amber took a step back into the alley and then froze.
What must I do? The thought was hers. She felt like everything might depend on the choice she made here… right now. Should she do as Derrick had made her promise? Return straightaway to the ship and let Derrick face this opponent alone? Or should she follow him? Should she be there to help him… or at least to kill his killer? Amber's heart was torn in two.
What must I do?
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As he moved through the alleys of Goa, Derrick could feel the other keep pace with him. No matter which way he turned… the other was there… someplace out of sight… perhaps on the rooftops. The main thing was to lead him away from habited areas so that mortals would not see… would not be hurt.
He'd considered pushing through to the ship… but this had to be dealt with if he was to have any future at all. Cassandra had given him the clue on how to avoid it. If he sent Amber away, maybe he'd have the chance. He just prayed that she would not follow him. He worried that if she were present, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on his opponent. He'd be worried about her… and then he'd make a mistake. Derrick understood that his entire focus needed to be on his unknown opponent.
Racing out into a field of tall grass, Derrick glanced back at the outskirts of the town and kept moving. At first, his shadow seemed to have left him, perhaps thrown by his leaving the protection of the buildings; but as he moved through the fields and along the riverbank, his shadow returned.
"Find your ground," Methos had told him once, "and then be prepared."
As he raced through the tall grass, Derrick watched for a level spot, free of debris that would be suitable for a fight. It didn't need to be big… just big enough to accommodate the two combatants. Mentally he began to measure areas he saw until he found one… near a small grove of twisted trees.
He screeched to a halt and turned to face the figure only now becoming visible. He was Middle-Eastern… slightly shorter than Derrick, dressed in light cotton pants and shirt… with the inevitable lightweight coat. In this heat, Derrick knew that immortals with their coats must look odd to mortals unaware of them or the game. Even at this distance, Derrick could see that he had a goatee and dark piercing eyes. The immortal pulled a curious sword… a scimitar with a kris edge on the cutting side of the blade… from his coat even as he shrugged out of it and tossed it aside. He meant business.
Derrick sighed and cricked his neck. He needed every advantage he'd ever learned… and he needed to concentrate. Already he could tell that this man masked his intentions well.
When the immortal reached the edge of the clearing he glanced around. "I approve. You chose well."
"Who are you?" Derrick asked. "Why are you after me?"
The man chuckled. "I am Kabir Hassani. I have been looking for you for centuries."
"Me? I haven't been around for centuries."
"In hiding?"
Derrick shook his head. "You misunderstand. I'm less than a century old." He didn't want Kabir to know how young he truly was. Even so, his opponent raised an eyebrow.
"I do not understand? My first teacher knew you. I saw your face in his memories when I took his head and his sword for my own." He gestured with the scimitar. "This is the sword of Eden that God put into the hands of the angel when he drove mankind from perfection. It is the guardian of the past… the flame of the dawn."
When Kabir moved, Derrick did notice that the sword's edge caught the light and seemed to be living flame. He shrugged off his own coat as he pulled out Amber's cutlass. "Don't know what to tell you mate. I'm too young to have known him."
"That is not your sword!" Kabir thundered. "My master saw you with a great broadsword in your hands. He said you had it with you when you trained with him long before I was even born into the game."
Derrick shrugged again with a laugh. "What you see is what you get."
Kabir pointed at him. "Then you have hidden it. I will learn its location when I take your head."
"Then bring it on," Derrick said calmly… a calm he didn't truly feel. His heart was pounding and his knees felt week.
"He foresaw our meeting in this place…. my victory. He said that two of the ancient weapons of the game would at last be re-united."
"There's just me. I'm not who you're looking for."
Kabir raised the scimitar overhead with both hands and set himself as he grimaced. "Prepare to die then young one."
Derrick turned sideways, best for the lighter-weight cutlass, and put his left hand behind his left hip. He'd have to concentrate on this style… and not fall into a trap. Both blades were single-edged, slicing weapons, whereas the broadsword was double-edged. Amber's sword was well cared for and extremely sharp. He'd practiced with it several times, and was accustomed to its weight… but he'd have to be very careful not to fall into a trap. He had a feeling that Kabir expected and had trained for a certain kind of fight. Derrick would have to surprise him.
The two men rushed one another… their blades clashing and sparks flying into the air as they met. Then both continued past their opponent, stopped turned and re-set. This time Derrick held the cutlass low. Kabir raised the scimitar overhead again… but swung it down and then back up in a slightly different position as he turned slightly. He grinned.
Derrick motioned with the fingers of his left hand for him to come on. Kabir lunged again. Derrick backed up and turned… carefully blocking the scimitar's deadly path. The slender cutlass rang and reverberated with the force of the blows. He had a feeling it wouldn't stand up too long to the power and strength of the older blade. Still… if he was careful… he might survive.
For several moments the combatants swords crossed and re-crossed as they circled around one another. Derrick was feeling the heat and the humidity take its toll. During one respite, he wiped the sweat from his face while Kabir grinned.
"You are from a northern clime, yes? Not accustomed to our tropical one." Then he lunged forward again, giving Derrick little time to catch his breath. The man's moves were inventive and intricate. Some Derrick knew… while others were surprising. Derrick remained focused on Kabir's menacing eyes… hoping he'd catch the slight tells that would give him a clue as to what the man planned next. So far he'd been lucky… very lucky.
Kabir rushed again, this time executing a complex set of steps and sword moves as he turned. Derrick managed to avoid all but one blow that ripped across his back. He turned as it hit and managed to avoid a deep cut.
Laughter erupted from Kabir. "For such a young innocent… you are very well trained."
Derrick winced slightly at the burning wound across his back and flinched. "Yeah… all my teachers said so." He shrugged it off, determined to be ready for the next move. He shifted his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet as he crouched slightly. The bent posture caused the back wound to burn… but it would heal… given time… it would heal. He had yet to draw blood from his opponent. Perhaps it was time.
The elder immortal circled around Derrick… watching his every move… trying to fathom what the young man was planning. He is hard to read, this one, he thought. He seems so relaxed and gives no clue to his next move. Kabir didn't for a moment truly believe that this immortal was as young as he claimed. His blue eyes… blue like the sky overhead… had haunted him for almost fifteen hundred years, ever since he'd beheaded Ahasuerus, the Parthian. The entire time he'd been the Parthian's student, the man had taunted him with tales of his "other" student and his abilities. But he'd never given him a name. Well names were easily changed, Kabir had realized. But that face… those eyes. He'd seen them in the Quickening… in some vision that Ahasuerus had once had. And he'd seen the clash of weapons. He'd searched for centuries for someone who bore that weapon. He'd taken the kris-edged scimitar from Ahasuerus; he'd coveted it since he'd first seen it. Its hilt felt comfortable in his hand. In fifteen hundred years… it had become a part of him. He trilled a cry and sliced with full power at his opponent.
Derrick had to use both hands on the cutlass to fend off Kabir's blows. He was so busy backing up that he was unable to launch an attack. Reaching the edge of the clearing, he dived and rolled to one side, coming up behind Kabir. He landed one good blow on the back of the man's leg as he came up, before his opponent turned and began again.
Kabir howled his rage as he hopped back and swung the scimitar back and forth. His weight was on his good leg.
Derrick lashed out… putting up a flurry of blows… making the most of his momentary advantage. And still Kabir blocked him. Then the elder immortal flipped his scimitar and tried to stab Derrick's chest. The young man hopped out of reach and set his defense. Evidently Kabir's leg was better… even though he was still limping as he circled again.
Both men were breathing in ragged gasps.
Kabir lunged again and Derrick avoided the attack… fending off the blows as he moved around and back. I'm giving up too much ground! He thought. He's controlling the speed and position of this fight! Derrick knew he had to control at least a series of moves. He needed an advantage.
Kabir flipped the scimitar again, in mid stab, so that it just missed Derrick's neck as he ducked and moved off.
"You cannot run forever," Kabir was saying. "I will run you down and take all the power and knowledge you possess. I have met many strong ones over the centuries. You… are… nothing."
Derrick refused to rise to the bait. "That's what I tried to tell you. I'm not the immortal you think I am." He refused to say more as he moved back and tried to catch his breath. He still focused on Kabir… seeking an opening… seeking anything that would help him.
His words… such as they were had the effect he wanted. Kabir lunged forward with another flurry of two-handed blows… so like an earlier set of moves… that Derrick easily avoided them. This time… no blood was drawn by either man. At one point they clutched one another and circled… their swords momentarily useless. Then Kabir pushed Derrick away.
"Smart… very smart young one. But you cannot beat me. I have foreseen the end."
"Yeah? Well as a friend of mine once said… the future is in flux… constantly changing." He wiped at his brow with his free hand and hefted the cutlass. He flicked the sweat from his fingers with a grin.
Kabir drew his scimitar to a vertical position as he seemed to draw into himself, and became still… very… very still. Derrick could not fathom what his plan of attack would be. He sensed that something was coming… something that would surprise him. He put both hands on the cutlass and held it before him in an easy grip… feigning a relaxation and confidence that he did not feel. He prayed that Kabir was reading that… and not the fear and trepidation thatDerrick was feeling.
Then the elder immortal whirled swiftly counter-clockwise… swiftly positioning his sword so that it was aimed to slice like an electric buzz-saw. Derrick barely avoided it… and in that move, was tripped up by an exposed root. He rolled and scrambled to his feet… barely avoiding a direct blow. He did get a glancing one on his sword-arm. He flinched as he moved away… his arm both numb and throbbing with pain. It didn't make sense… but that was how it felt. He held it stiffly while he limped slowly about. His ankle where he'd tripped was also throbbing. Damn! Watch your footing! he told himself. He'd missed seeing that root. The next time he might not get off so lucky. Again he eased onto the balls of his feet so that he felt light on them… ready to move and change direction as needed.
Kabir no longer looked quite so confident in the outcome of this fight. His eyes betrayed his confusion and his anger. I can use that, Derrick thought. He lunged forward suddenly… his sword in slicing moves, which Kabir easily deflected. Then Derrick whirled, raising the cutlass and tried for an underhanded slice across Kabir's mid-section. He felt the satisfaction of the solid connection. He pulled the cutlass sharply and felt it slice through flesh easily. Derrick continued the turn and backed off… immediately ready for Kabir's answering move.
But the man backed up… one hand on his stomach, where a red bloom of blood was spreading. "That hurts," he hissed. In a mortal man, it would have been a fatal wound. In an immortal… it was merely an inconvenience… provided he healed before he passed out from loss of blood.
Derrick decided to press the advantage… make Kabir have to defend… keep him moving… and keep the wound open and pumping precious blood. He began another attack.
But this time, it was Kabir whose feigning pain drew him in. Suddenly Derrick realized that the elder immortal was launching a another series of blows aimed not for him but Amber's cutlass. He was fending them off before he realized his mistake. The blade shattered… the tip of it flying off. The next blow disarmed him and the hilt went flying into the air where it somersaulted and then pierced the earth.
Derrick kept moving. He had no time to think about what he'd done wrong… he was unarmed and had to prevent that scimitar from slicing through his neck. He had one chance. Swiftly he dove and rolled to grasp the hilt of the broken cutlass and hope to thrust it into his opponent's gut. He'd worry about the head later.
As he rolled to his back he saw the scimitar raised in the air over his head and beginning to descend. The sunlight reflected off of the kris-edge so that it indeed, looked like living fire. Derrick had to make his move now. With a sudden cry, he thrust the broken cutlass forward into Kabir's groin, turning it as he did so and slicing to one side.
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