Beyond the Shadows
Page 8
~Not unless I give you a hand,~ the ka’kari said in Kylar’s mind. The black metal ball that lived within Kylar spoke rarely, and it wasn’t always helpful when it did. You’re hilarious, Kylar thought back at it.
Garuwashi’s eyes flicked down to Kylar’s wrist. Feir was agog.
Kylar glanced down and saw jet black metal writhing from his stump. It resolved itself slowly into a hand. He tried to make a fist, and it did. Are you joking?
~I’m not that cruel. By the way, Jorsin Alkestes didn’t like the idea of his enemies coming back to life. If that sword kills you, you’re really dead.~
Funny, the Wolf failed to mention that. Kylar wiggled the black fingers. He even had some sensation in them. At the same time, the hand was too light. It was hollow, the skin thinner than parchment. Hey, while you’re doing miracles . . .
~No.~
You didn’t even listen!
~Go ahead.~ It felt like the ka’kari was rolling its eyes. How did it do that? It didn’t even have eyes.
Can you fix its weight?
~No.~
Why not?
The ka’kari sighed. ~I stay one size. I’m already covering all your skin and making a hand for you. Invisibility, blue flames, and an extra hand not enough for you?~
So making a dagger of you and throwing it would be a bad idea?
The ka’kari went silent in a huff, and Kylar grinned. Then he realized he was grinning at Lantano Garuwashi, who had sixty-three deaths tied to his hair, and eighty-two in his eyes.
“You need a minute?” Garuwashi asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Uh, I’m ready now,” Kylar said. He drew his sword.
“Kylar,” Feir said. “What are you going to do with the sword?”
“I’m going to put it somewhere safe.”
Feir’s eyes widened. “You’re taking it into the Wood?”
“I was thinking I’d throw it in.”
“Good idea,” Feir said.
“Perhaps a nice idea. But not a good one,” Garuwashi said. He closed the distance between them in an instant. The swords rang together in the staccato melody that would climax in death. Kylar decided to feign a tendency to overextend on his ripostes. With a swordsman as talented as Lantano Garuwashi, he should only have to show the weakness twice and spring the trap the third time.
Except that the first time he overextended, Garuwashi’s sword was into the gap, raking Kylar’s ribs. He could have killed Kylar with that thrust, but he held back, wary of a trap.
Kylar staggered back, and Garuwashi let him regroup, his eyes showing disappointment. They’d barely crossed swords for five seconds. The man was too fast. Ridiculously fast. Kylar brought the ka’kari to his eyes and was even more stunned.
“You’re not even Talented,” Kylar said.
“Lantano Garuwashi needs no magic.”
~Kylar Stern surely does!~
Kylar felt an old familiar shiver, an echo from his past. It was the fear of dying. With Alitaeran broadswords, Kylar could have crushed Garuwashi with the brute strength of his Talent. Against the elegant Ceuran sword, Kylar’s Talent did almost nothing for him. “Let’s get on with it,” Kylar said.
They began again, Garuwashi feeling Kylar out, even giving ground, seeing what Kylar could do. But there was no holding back. Kylar had seen that. Soon Kylar would tire and try something desperate. Garuwashi would be waiting for it—how many desperate men had he seen in sixty-three duels? Surely every man who had survived the first clash of blades had the same sick feeling in his stomach that Kylar had now. There was no room for self-delusion once the blades began singing.
Something changed on Garuwashi’s face. It wasn’t enough to tell Kylar what he was going to do; but it was enough to tell him that Garuwashi thought he knew Kylar’s strengths. Now he would end it.
There was a beat. Kylar waited for Garuwashi to advance, those damn long arms of his unbelievably quick, the stance fluid and sure.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Garuwashi asked, withholding his attack. “The rhythm.”
“Sometimes,” Kylar grunted, his eyes not leaving Garuwashi’s center, where he would see any movement begin. “Once, I heard it as music in truth.”
“Many died that day?” Garuwashi asked.
Kylar shrugged.
“Thirty highlanders, four wytches, and a Khalidoran prince,” Feir said.
Lantano Garuwashi smiled, not surprised at Feir’s knowledge. “Yet today you fight woodenly. You are stiff, slower than usual. Do you know why? That day you faced death no less than you do today.”
Wrong, but I didn’t know that then.
“Today,” Garuwashi continued, “you are afraid. It narrows your vision, tenses your muscles, makes you slow. It will make you dead. Fight to win, Kylar Stern, not to not lose.” It was disconcerting to hear good advice from the man who was about to kill him.
“Here,” Garuwashi said. He lifted Ceur’caelestos and Kylar saw the edges go blunt. “I’ll know when you’re ready.”
Feir leaned up against a tree and whistled quietly.
Garuwashi attacked again and within seconds, the dull sword scraped Kylar’s ribs. A few more seconds passed in furious ringing and the dull blade grazed his forearm, then jabbed his shoulder. But even as the blows rained down on him, Kylar began to remember his master Durzo’s merciless sparring. His fear receded. This was the same, except now Kylar had more endurance, more strength, more speed, and more experience than a year ago. And he’d beaten Durzo. Once. Kylar’s vision cleared and his pulse slowed from its frenzied hammering.
“That’s it!” Garuwashi said. Ceur’caelestos went sharp once more and they began.
Kylar was aware of Feir. The second-echelon Blade Master was seated cross-legged on the ground now, jaw slack. The man was muttering to himself, “Gabel’s Game to Many Waters to Three Mountain Castles—good, good—to Heron’s Hunt to—was that Praavel’s Defense? Goramond’s Dive to—what the hell? I’ve never—Yrmi’s Bout, good gods, some variation on Two Tigers? Harani Bulls to . . .”
The fight accelerated, but Kylar felt a calm. He was, he realized, smiling. Madness! Yet it was so, and Garuwashi’s thin lips were drawn up in a little smirk of their own. There was beauty here, something precious and rare. Every man wished he could fight. Few could, and only one in a hundred years fought this well. Kylar had never thought to see another master on a par with Durzo Blint, but Lantano Garuwashi might even be better than Durzo, a little faster, his reach a little longer.
Kylar dove behind a sapling a second before Garuwashi sheared it in two. As Garuwashi pushed aside the falling tree, Kylar thought. He only had one thing Lantano Garuwashi didn’t. Well, aside from invisibility.
~Oh, don’t use that! It wouldn’t be fair!~
What Lantano Garuwashi didn’t have was years of fighting against someone better than he was. Kylar was studying Garuwashi’s style in a way Garuwashi had never needed study anyone’s. It was straightforward. Garuwashi basically depended on his superior speed, strength, reach, technique, and flexibility to win. And—there!
Kylar went through half of Lord Umber’s Glut and then modified it, twisting the last parry so Ceur’caelestos missed his cheek by a breath. His own sword gashed Garuwashi’s shoulder—but Garuwashi’s counter was already coming. Kylar threw up an arm and instinctively brought the ka’kari up along the ridge.
Garuwashi’s eyes flicked down to Kylar’s wrist. Feir was agog.
Kylar glanced down and saw jet black metal writhing from his stump. It resolved itself slowly into a hand. He tried to make a fist, and it did. Are you joking?
~I’m not that cruel. By the way, Jorsin Alkestes didn’t like the idea of his enemies coming back to life. If that sword kills you, you’re really dead.~
Funny, the Wolf failed to mention that. Kylar wiggled the black fingers. He even had some sensation in them. At the same time, the hand was too light. It was hollow, the skin thinner than parchment. Hey, while you’re doing miracles . . .
~No.~
You didn’t even listen!
~Go ahead.~ It felt like the ka’kari was rolling its eyes. How did it do that? It didn’t even have eyes.
Can you fix its weight?
~No.~
Why not?
The ka’kari sighed. ~I stay one size. I’m already covering all your skin and making a hand for you. Invisibility, blue flames, and an extra hand not enough for you?~
So making a dagger of you and throwing it would be a bad idea?
The ka’kari went silent in a huff, and Kylar grinned. Then he realized he was grinning at Lantano Garuwashi, who had sixty-three deaths tied to his hair, and eighty-two in his eyes.
“You need a minute?” Garuwashi asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Uh, I’m ready now,” Kylar said. He drew his sword.
“Kylar,” Feir said. “What are you going to do with the sword?”
“I’m going to put it somewhere safe.”
Feir’s eyes widened. “You’re taking it into the Wood?”
“I was thinking I’d throw it in.”
“Good idea,” Feir said.
“Perhaps a nice idea. But not a good one,” Garuwashi said. He closed the distance between them in an instant. The swords rang together in the staccato melody that would climax in death. Kylar decided to feign a tendency to overextend on his ripostes. With a swordsman as talented as Lantano Garuwashi, he should only have to show the weakness twice and spring the trap the third time.
Except that the first time he overextended, Garuwashi’s sword was into the gap, raking Kylar’s ribs. He could have killed Kylar with that thrust, but he held back, wary of a trap.
Kylar staggered back, and Garuwashi let him regroup, his eyes showing disappointment. They’d barely crossed swords for five seconds. The man was too fast. Ridiculously fast. Kylar brought the ka’kari to his eyes and was even more stunned.
“You’re not even Talented,” Kylar said.
“Lantano Garuwashi needs no magic.”
~Kylar Stern surely does!~
Kylar felt an old familiar shiver, an echo from his past. It was the fear of dying. With Alitaeran broadswords, Kylar could have crushed Garuwashi with the brute strength of his Talent. Against the elegant Ceuran sword, Kylar’s Talent did almost nothing for him. “Let’s get on with it,” Kylar said.
They began again, Garuwashi feeling Kylar out, even giving ground, seeing what Kylar could do. But there was no holding back. Kylar had seen that. Soon Kylar would tire and try something desperate. Garuwashi would be waiting for it—how many desperate men had he seen in sixty-three duels? Surely every man who had survived the first clash of blades had the same sick feeling in his stomach that Kylar had now. There was no room for self-delusion once the blades began singing.
Something changed on Garuwashi’s face. It wasn’t enough to tell Kylar what he was going to do; but it was enough to tell him that Garuwashi thought he knew Kylar’s strengths. Now he would end it.
There was a beat. Kylar waited for Garuwashi to advance, those damn long arms of his unbelievably quick, the stance fluid and sure.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Garuwashi asked, withholding his attack. “The rhythm.”
“Sometimes,” Kylar grunted, his eyes not leaving Garuwashi’s center, where he would see any movement begin. “Once, I heard it as music in truth.”
“Many died that day?” Garuwashi asked.
Kylar shrugged.
“Thirty highlanders, four wytches, and a Khalidoran prince,” Feir said.
Lantano Garuwashi smiled, not surprised at Feir’s knowledge. “Yet today you fight woodenly. You are stiff, slower than usual. Do you know why? That day you faced death no less than you do today.”
Wrong, but I didn’t know that then.
“Today,” Garuwashi continued, “you are afraid. It narrows your vision, tenses your muscles, makes you slow. It will make you dead. Fight to win, Kylar Stern, not to not lose.” It was disconcerting to hear good advice from the man who was about to kill him.
“Here,” Garuwashi said. He lifted Ceur’caelestos and Kylar saw the edges go blunt. “I’ll know when you’re ready.”
Feir leaned up against a tree and whistled quietly.
Garuwashi attacked again and within seconds, the dull sword scraped Kylar’s ribs. A few more seconds passed in furious ringing and the dull blade grazed his forearm, then jabbed his shoulder. But even as the blows rained down on him, Kylar began to remember his master Durzo’s merciless sparring. His fear receded. This was the same, except now Kylar had more endurance, more strength, more speed, and more experience than a year ago. And he’d beaten Durzo. Once. Kylar’s vision cleared and his pulse slowed from its frenzied hammering.
“That’s it!” Garuwashi said. Ceur’caelestos went sharp once more and they began.
Kylar was aware of Feir. The second-echelon Blade Master was seated cross-legged on the ground now, jaw slack. The man was muttering to himself, “Gabel’s Game to Many Waters to Three Mountain Castles—good, good—to Heron’s Hunt to—was that Praavel’s Defense? Goramond’s Dive to—what the hell? I’ve never—Yrmi’s Bout, good gods, some variation on Two Tigers? Harani Bulls to . . .”
The fight accelerated, but Kylar felt a calm. He was, he realized, smiling. Madness! Yet it was so, and Garuwashi’s thin lips were drawn up in a little smirk of their own. There was beauty here, something precious and rare. Every man wished he could fight. Few could, and only one in a hundred years fought this well. Kylar had never thought to see another master on a par with Durzo Blint, but Lantano Garuwashi might even be better than Durzo, a little faster, his reach a little longer.
Kylar dove behind a sapling a second before Garuwashi sheared it in two. As Garuwashi pushed aside the falling tree, Kylar thought. He only had one thing Lantano Garuwashi didn’t. Well, aside from invisibility.
~Oh, don’t use that! It wouldn’t be fair!~
What Lantano Garuwashi didn’t have was years of fighting against someone better than he was. Kylar was studying Garuwashi’s style in a way Garuwashi had never needed study anyone’s. It was straightforward. Garuwashi basically depended on his superior speed, strength, reach, technique, and flexibility to win. And—there!
Kylar went through half of Lord Umber’s Glut and then modified it, twisting the last parry so Ceur’caelestos missed his cheek by a breath. His own sword gashed Garuwashi’s shoulder—but Garuwashi’s counter was already coming. Kylar threw up an arm and instinctively brought the ka’kari up along the ridge.
