Brian Pratt - Warrior priest of Dmon-Li

“So what happened?” Fifer asks.

James fills them in on what was said and the deal he’d made. At hearing that, Jiron says, “James, there’s no way I can win a fight with my shoulder the way it is.”

“Besides,” Illan says, “there’s only one person he’s going to select as champion, and that will be himself. The warrior priests are terrible foes, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of one being beaten by another living mortal. Who among us could even hope of defeating a warrior priest of Dmon-Li?”

He glances around at the faces looking to him until he settles on one, “Another warrior priest of Dmon-Li.”

Staring back into James’ eyes, Miko takes a sudden intake of breath. “What? Are you crazy?” He glances around at the others assembled there and says, “I’m no warrior, let alone a match for someone like Abula-Mazki.”

Illan glances from Miko, to James, then back to Miko. His head begins to nod slowly as he says, “Perhaps.”

Miko turns his attention to Illan as he says, “You can’t be serious!”

“I’ve seen you fight,” he tells him. He gestures at the rest of those gathered there before continuing, “None of us can even hope to match what you do. You’re the only choice.”

“James,” Jiron says to him. “We can’t take that chance, not with…”

“I know,” he replies. “But that’s just what I’m counting on. With it, Miko has a chance to beat him.”

The others look confused, not understanding what they’re talking about. James turns to Hinney and says, “Give your armor to Miko. I think you’re about the same size.” As he begins removing his armor, James comes over to Miko and says, “You can do this. There really is no one else.”

Miko’s eyes show the fear and doubt that he’s feeling inside. James leans closer and whispers so only he will hear, “The Fire will aid you. It already has in every battle you’ve fought.”

Coming back to look him in the eye, he says, “I believe you can do it.”

“But, what if I lose myself for good?” he asks. “It’s been harder each time to come back out of it.”

“I won’t let that happen,” James assures him. “I promise.”

Jorry and Uther come over and begin to help him in putting on Hinney’s armor. “Let me have your sword,” James says.

“What’re you going to do?” Miko asks as he hands it over to him. A pile begins to form at his feet from all the excess equipment they are removing from him in order to make room for the armor. The only pouch he retains is the one containing the Fire.

“Make it stronger, better able to withstand whatever he may do,” he replies. He holds the sword out before him and begins concentrating as he readies the magic. Hoping he remembers enough from the shows on television he’d seen about metallurgy and sword making, he lets the magic begin to flow as he works on removing the impurities and strengthening the iron into steel.

He stands there for five minutes as he works on the sword. When he at last feels it’s complete, he stops the spell and hands the sword to Illan. “Tell me what you think.”

Taking the sword, he tests it for balance and weight, all the while nodding his head approvingly. Then he checks the edge by running his thumb along it. The barest of pressure cuts through the skin and a drop of blood begins to form.

He holds the sword out and then turns to Fifer, “Take out your sword and strike it.”

Fifer removes his sword and while Illan holds the sword in a blocking position, strikes it hard. When his sword strikes Miko’s, it rings out and Illan says, “Again!”

Strike! Strike! Strike!

Three more times Fifer hits Miko’s sword, after the third strike, Illan nods his head and gestures for Fifer to halt. Turning to where Miko stands, now dressed in armor, he says, “This sword is better than any other I’ve ever seen.” Handing it to him hilt first, he continues, “It will serve you well.”

“Thank you,” he says, taking it. Placing it within the scabbard, he glances to James. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he says. Then a horn sounds from those within the pass and they turn to see Abula-Mazki returning on foot with the clan chiefs. “It’s time,” he tells Miko.

James, Illan and Jiron accompany Miko out to where the duel will take place. With dread, Miko advances toward the spot where he will meet Abula-Mazki in combat. I can’t do this!

When the two groups meet, Abula-Mazki says, “So, who plans to die today?”

“None of us, actually,” James says. He gestures to Miko as he continues, “Miko here will meet your champion.” Looking around at those with Abula-Mazki, he adds, “And which one of you will be brave enough to meet him?”

The clan chiefs break out into a gruff laugh as Abula-Mazki says, “I had thought this to be a serious match.”

“It is,” James assures him. “He is far better than you’d imagine.”

Looking upon Miko, Abula-Mazki’s expression shows he seriously doubts his abilities. “Okay,” he says, “so be it. I will be my own champion for there is no other better than I.”

“Just one thing before we begin,” James says.

“What?” he asks.

“Should we win,” he replies and then points to the clan chiefs, “I want your word they will not attack us. Nor will they try to seek any sort of vengeance against us.”

With an amused smile upon his face at the very thought, Abula-Mazki says, “You have it.”

“Very well then,” says James.

The clan chiefs back away from Abula-Mazki as he draws his sword.

James can feel the prickling as he calls the magic. He puts his hands on Miko’s shoulders and looks him in the eye. Miko looks back with naked fear at the thought of facing him in battle. “You can do this!” asserts James. Then in a hushed whisper, adds, “The Fire will protect you.”

“How can you be sure?” Miko asks.

“I am,” James replies. “Trust me.” He continues gazing at Miko until he gives him a barely perceptible nod.

Miko turns to face the warrior priest. Drawing his sword, he steps forward as James and the others step back.

He watches as Miko closes with Abula-Mazki and begins to notice how his movements are slowly changing, becoming more streamlined and relaxed. The Fire is beginning to take control.

With sword at the ready, Miko waits for Abula-Mazki’s attack. When it comes, it’s so incredibly fast that no one even realized he’d even attacked before Miko’s sword moves and blocks it.

The ringing of the clash of swords slowly dies away, and the clan chiefs begin murmuring among themselves. They cast looks from Abula-Mazki and then over to where James waits with the others.

As he watches Miko and Abula-Mazki begin to circle each other, Illan says, “He might be able to win.”

“Let’s hope so,” James says.

“If he does,” says Jiron as he points to the clan chiefs, “do you think they’ll abide by Abula-Mazki’s word?”

“I doubt it,” replies James. “But let’s worry about that after Miko wins.” He looks to Jiron who gives him a nod.

Clang! Clang!

Their swords move at speeds so fast, the eyes of the onlookers aren’t capable of following. Then suddenly, Abula-Mazki disengages and backs up. He looks at Miko with a new found respect. This isn’t any ordinary foe, he realizes.

Suddenly, the tingling James has been feeling since the beginning of the match spikes. He tries to call the magic forth to help Miko but is too late. A ball of fire flies the short distance from Abula-Mazki to Miko, and explodes in a giant fireball.

When the smoke clears, Miko is still standing there, untouched. James can faintly see a reddish shell begin to dissipate from around him. He glances to the warrior priest and sees the look of utter amazement upon his face. Smiling in satisfaction, James hollers, “Go Miko!”