Chapter Ninety-One
The shores of the Ragdorian lake were quiet. The lake itself did not have many waves, and the few it had crashed against the shore silently. The silence between the two involved parties was deafening. My breast pocket had, as a good luck charm, Isabella's handkerchief within. By my side, Raven stood patiently, eyes beady and ready.
"Please, stop at first blood," Isabella managed to yell out from the sides, standing on the back of a dragon that the most trustworthy of knights of her retinue rode. Her hands tensed around a handkerchief that she was to let go to signal the countdown. She was twisting it with her fingers, her nervousness clear. "Beneath the Founder's gaze-in the name of the gods, let this duel be just, and the victor decided by the will of the gods-" she choked slightly on her next words, "may whoever wins be proved righteous, and whoever loses make peace with the gods."
She then extended the piece of cloth from her gloved hand, and let it go. As the dragon and the knights flew away to a safe distance, the handkerchief fluttered in the air for a bit, and then, softly, landed on the ground after what felt like ages, but had been perhaps a minute or less. This gave the time for both parties
Whips of water rushed forth from the tip of Charles' wand with such strength that they ruptured the ground upon their passages, the sound barrier shattering with sonic booms near instantaneously as shards of rock swiftly became deadly shrapnel within the nearby proximity, engulfed by the water whips themselves and thrust forward at blinding speeds.
Raven took flight hastily while a shield of iron emerged thick and tall in front of us, only for it to be cut to shreds within mere seconds, the shrapnel drilling holes into it with such a ferocity that it was clear that First Blood was a synonym for Maiming Wound or I am going to hurt you so badly you wish this duel was to the death.
I wasn't there though, having taken the wise way of disappearing below ground. If the enemy can't see you, he can't skewer you now, can he? Raven's altitude increased sharply, my commands to him pretty clear.
I couldn't dally down beneath the ground though, since my honor depended on it.
Also, the ground itself shook as the next chant of Charles shattered the spot I had been before, large pillars of stone and rock bursting forth and bringing my hiding spot into the light of the day. Unfortunately for him, I had finished my own chant, and as a shield of wind surrounded my frame, the incoming javelins of ice shattered against it, my teeth gritted as I held the shield up.
Any moment now, Raven.
Any moment now would be nice.
From the very heavens, descend did the Raven with talons sharp. Although, rather than slice with the sharpness of his claws, first it opened them to release the falling swords conjured prior to the duel, and left for him to use within it. This was kind of a grey area in the dueling code, but it wasn't said anywhere that one couldn't do it. The victor would decide on the fairness of such a method, since at the present, I was trying my hardest to hold on to my wind shield.
The blades fell rapidly in the direction of the Duke, but this didn't make the Duke stop his chanting. He simply moved away, using his swordwand to deflect the incoming blades with a grace that had me stare in wonder for a brief second. How could a man do something like that? Was he perhaps on drugs? Did he have superhuman reflexes? Was this what facing a Gary Stu was like? It did make him alter his target to Raven, who kept swooping down towards him.
In that instant, I ran forward closing the distance.
Two against one, hardly fair, but truly guaranteed to-
Imagine a tsunami. Imagine a tsunami of ice. Imagine a tsunami of ice that leaves the tip of a wand and increases to unforeseen heights and widths, with the edges sharp, spikes of ice emerging from the side that is coming at swift speed against you. Imagine that you can feel it coming, that you can feel the cold, frozen winds come for your own life-if this was a First Blood meant to skewer and hurt, then I dreaded thinking about what he'd do to people he wanted to actually kill. It was a First Blood that would easily mean months of rehabilitation if it had hit head-on, and I wasn't looking forward to any of that.
"Burning flames!" I bellowed as twisting fires left the tip of my wand, impacting against the incoming spikes long enough to melt them from sharp-beyond-believe to bluntness, which slammed yet against my frame, taking away my breath as I found myself thrown on the ground once more amidst the screams from the sides.
So this was the power of Square magic. Truly, a terrifying power.
What sort of deal with the devil did I need to sign in order to get my hands on it? No, seriously-this was my fault, wasn't it? I had grown lazy, complacent-faced against such a thing, with such a difference in power unmistakable-I was being humbled, or perhaps, tortured into humility.
Raven's cawing caught my attention, the agonizing sound wrenching something in my heart as my eyes snapped to where I had last seen in. Sharp javelins of ice had buried deep into his frame, blood spurting out of the wounds as the ice began to melt. Charles hadn't wasted time, and since Raven had flown away as fast as possible, he hadn't been able to dodge the incoming projectiles. I rushed in his direction, "No, no, no-wait!" I came to an abrupt halt by my familiar's side, his breathing hard and gasping as his feathers were now slick with blood. "Healing water-"
"Furious winds," came the voice of Charles, utterly emotionless, utterly uncaring. Twisting tornadoes lashed out in our direction, and as I turned to face them and bring up an iron shield, the ice kept melting, and thus the blood kept pouring out. The Duke's voice was monotone, so used to dueling in the name of his brother, had he perhaps grown used and callous to the pleads of mercy of his opponents? I looked at the blade of my swordwand, and grabbed it with my left hand, slicing my palm alongside its edge.
"See here! First blood-you've won!"
The twisting tornadoes stopped briefly, and the Duke stared, his face hard. "As the offended party...I am not satisfied yet."
His wand came up once more, and just as he restarted his chanting, I sharply turned to start my own. Even if it wasn't long enough, if I could at least stop the bleeding-
"Henry-" Raven cawed, coughing even as his wings flapped. "Henry-fly away-"
"Healing waters that are born of the Founder's mercy, the kindness extended by the gentle powers of the elements of Water are unquestionable-I shall nurture and help you along the way-let there not be wound that cannot heal with compassion and faith, let there not be-" as I chanted furiously, the blood stopped flowing out, the wounds began to close-it was working, if only it could work faster.
A billowing tempest of ice, a snowstorm by all means, no-a skewering filled with sharp, deadly edges of ice and crystal. This was Charles', whose runic name was The Ice, signature spell. A blizzard of unparalleled dimensions, a snowstorm that was meant to rip and shred with merciless precision, who spoke of ice age cold winters and devastating, frozen storms-and as it came towards me, towards us, towards Raven's wounded body and my pitiful frame, I heard it.
I heard the wind's hollowing screams and the agony it felt.
"Be at peace, be calm," I whispered as I changed my chant, turning my wand from Raven's prone body to the incoming deadly blizzard, "Winds that rupture and bellow and scream, rest your weary selves. Peace be upon you-" the ice began to freeze my fingers, sharp edges slicing a hundred cuts on my extended arm, "And in the name of the Founder, tranquil breezes-take their place!" I roared over the blizzard itself, over the ice and the snow that suffocated my breathing, that clutched my throat.
The blizzard's winds stopped screaming as the ice fell uselessly on the ground like sharp razors and knives, thumping as they hit the dirt one after the other. I snorted, and compacted snow and ice left my nostrils, caked in the blood of the cut skin. There was blood on the ground, but I didn't hurt, because ice had dulled the nerves. No, it wasn't that it didn't hurt, it was that it burned, it burned all over. Thus, because it burned, the sensation of burning took precedence over everything else.
Raven's breathing was ragged and short, but he'd live if attended to. He had been wounded, but not that deeply, not that much. The wounds had already closed, the ice had melted off his frame. He was resting now, his eyes closed.
By the time I stood back up on my feet, a water whip had reached ultrasonic speed and came cruising for my swordwand, shattering it in a thousand bits, driving deep gouges in my right hand -the product of the very handle of the swordwand exploding in my grip from the concussive force of the blast. I held back the screams even as my hand burned and bled, the blood now pouring down freely from the deep cut. I looked at the Duke D'Orleans. He wasn't showing any emotions, like a proper noble during a duel should. This-it was funny in hindsight. I really should have chosen a champion for this, right?
He didn't really want to kill me, did he?
I should have chosen someone else.
Then why hadn't I? There had to be a limit to my foolishness. Perhaps it was contagious?
I could feel the blood trickle down my hand, fall on the ground, even as I-even as I thought the Duke wouldn't aim to kill me...even as I thought that...I had misjudged the man's character. Of course he would kill me. Was it his wife who actually hid Josette? Not him? And if so-did she hide her...from him as well? Behind those smiles-was there a heartless foe? Had I been right? Was he going to silence me because of my remarks about buying retainers and-and...everything else?
The next blow would probably be for my neck. Now I stood there, defeated and lacking a wand. If he'd start chanting once more, then it would make his intentions clear.
I really should have brought a spare wand. Ah...I felt something wet lick my bleeding hand. It was Raven's tongue, perhaps he was trying to console me in these last moments of ours? Well-what do you say in times like these?
"Sorry," I whispered as I heard the Duke D'Orleans chant once more. "I shouldn't have dragged you down with me, my friend."
"For those...we cherish," Raven croaked, "We die...in glory."
The chant finished, and the noise of another whip surpassing the speed of sound echoed. I saw it come, I saw it come faster than the blinking of my eyes. I saw it come, and stared with pure fright as the black of Raven's feathers moved to protect me with his whole frame, his wings clutching me in his last embrace. I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes and I screamed.
And then I heard it crash against the ground.
"Now, I am satisfied," Charles said sharply, sheathing his swordwand with a sordid click.
I gasped for air as I fell down on my knees, all strength leaving my body as relief washed over my features.
I was alive.
I was alive and all was well.
I was alive, all was well, and no one had died.
I chuckled at first, and then I began to laugh even as I tightly held on to Raven's body and hugged him for all of his worth.
"We're alive!" I cried out against Raven's plumage. "We're alive!"
"Alive!" Raven yelled back with a joyful cry of his own. "Alive! I love you! I love you!"
"I shall be going back first," and with those words said, the Duke D'Orleans soared in the air with a simple spell, rushing back to the mansion while, at the same time, a flock of knights came in the opposite direction of him, Isabella being at the lead of them.
That was how she found me.
Laughing vicariously with Raven.
She didn't look pleased of my state, but I couldn't have cared less.
She definitely wasn't pleased when I engulfed her in a hug that was a mixture of sweat, blood and grime and black feathers, which stained her dress irremediably, as she yelled at me even amidst my arms and Raven's wings.
I couldn't care less.
Because I was still alive.
Still alive.
