Christopher Kellen - Elegy

“Not top of my class, but I’m not bad,” she said quietly.

“Good,” he said with a nod. “You should accompany me so that you might achieve vengeance for your fallen comrades. When it comes to people, vengeance may not always be the best option, but when dealing with demons…” he paused for a moment, watching her expression. “It is always the best option.”

As he watched, a fire seemed to alight in her gaze. Her eyes locked on his and she nodded. “Vengeance.” She climbed to her feet and drew the sword from the scabbard that hung at her belt. “Tell me what I have to do.”

“We can’t go rushing headlong into battle,” he cautioned, holding up one hand. “You’ll need to follow me and do exactly as I say. This place is dangerous and there could be zagoths lurking around any corner. If you rush in too quickly, all you’ll find is your own death waiting for you.”

She nodded. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

Good. This one had a reason to follow him, to listen. He hoped that it would turn out better than his last association with a young Calessan soldier. There was still a dull ache at the thought of having lost Mikel to something so trivial, so minor… but such was life, and the thought drove him onward.

If the Old City needed to be cleansed of simple, mundane zagoths, then he would do so – and he would utilize this girl’s sword to help him. He was fighting to save the population of this city, and it was obvious that they needed someone now who could fight an everyday problem as much as they needed someone who could fight the corruption that was spreading across their lands.

“Then we will find them, we will strike swiftly, and we shall destroy them,” D’Arden said, nodding at the girl. “What is your name?”

“Elisa,” replied the young soldier.

“Die!” she screamed as she dropped from several feet above the ground, a flying leap off of a crumbling stone wall. The steel of her blade flashed in the light of the Deadmoon as she descended onto the head of one of the unsuspecting zagoths, plunging the sword deep into the creature’s body mass. It stiffened and fell forward, hauling her to the ground with it. It was clearly dead.

D’Arden took that moment to come out from behind a stone wall of his own, wielding his manna blade as though it were as light as a feather. The demons that were camped in the square had no idea what had hit them, and began scrambling for weapons even as D’Arden cut down two of them before they had a chance to move. A spray of thick black fluid now coated both of them, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Elisa dragged her sword from the body of the demon with a thick squelching sound and swung to face the next one. Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but be impressed with the prowess of the young swordswoman. The thirst for vengeance that had alighted in her eyes drove each swing, and though they were amateur at best and she would have been soundly defeated in any kind of civilized battle, the place in which they were fighting was perhaps the furthest thing from civilized. The element of surprise lent them every advantage, and she cut down another even as he slew two more with swift and practiced cuts from the crystalline edge of the manna blade.

Within moments, all of the demons in the camp were dead, and for a moment, the only sound was that of the crackling fire they had set up to try and keep warm in the deep-rooted chill of the Calessan night. Elisa wiped some of the black sludge from her face and turned to look at him with a slight, feral smile.

“They don’t last long when we get the jump on them, do they?” she asked, clearing her blond hair – now coated with zagoth blood – from her face with one hand as she leaned on her sword with the other. “Really, they’re kind of stupid. It’s almost like hunting animals, if animals had thumbs and weapons.”

She was a bruiser, there was no doubt about it, and although her technique was raw and mostly unbalanced, he could see the potential for a half decent sword-wielder in her. If the situation were different, he might have been inclined to sponsor her to the Royal Fencing Society – a mostly outdated group now, but still the best place to learn the art of the sword, second of course to the Arbiter’s Tower.

In fact, he said to himself, if she makes it through this alive, I might just do that.

He made the decision to see if, despite the hell that she was going through right now and the misery of their situation, she could be taught. He stepped up beside her and fell into a neutral sword stance, the blue crystal blade extending out in front of him at a slight angle from his body.

“Here. Mimic this,” he said to her.

She fell in step with him, holding her blade in roughly the same manner. Yes, he could see it now. Her balance wasn’t perfect, but she held the heavy steel blade with a natural talent and a good solid stance, and she appeared to be comfortable holding it. “From that stance, you can strike in any direction,” he said, making slow movements with the sword in different ways, showing her all of the possibilities that existed with the one simple stance. “Try not to let yourself get off-balance. If you’re not balanced, simply connecting with the enemy’s blade could throw you off enough for them to get in a killing strike, and your armor won’t help you if that strike hits your head or your neck.”

She nodded, moving her sword in the same motions that he made with his, trying to get a feel for the more refined movements. “I don’t want to die out here.”

Her straightforward confession surprised him somewhat. Despite the bloodlust in her, she was still a frightened girl who’d been drafted into the town guard. She said it with such a calm voice, though, that it unnerved him further. “I don’t intend to let you die,” he said at last. “I’ll make a bargain with you, in fact.” Might as well tell her your plan, he thought. Maybe it will help her get through this. “If you live through this night, without any wounds that would seriously cripple your ability to wield a sword, I will personally sponsor you to the Royal Fencing Society in Hartsknell. You can leave this place, and go somewhere that you can learn to fight effectively and be taught well, and then if you still want to be a soldier, you can join up with the Royal Army and know how to fight properly.”

“I’d go in a heartbeat,” she said, a bit of the haunted look leaving her eyes. For the first time in their brief acquaintance, he noticed real excitement in her gaze. “I don’t have any family left here… they’ve all died, or been turned and… and put down. I’d love just to get out of Calessa, and I’ve never been to Hartsknell. But surely a sponsorship to the Royal Fencing Society must be incredibly expensive!”

He nodded, but looked unfazed. “Expensive, yes. For one of your natural talent, though, a worthwhile investment. I have no lack of money, and I have little use for that which I have. To give you a chance to become a Royal soldier, or perhaps something else of your choosing, would be a worthwhile endeavor to me.”

“We’ve just met, though!” she protested. “How could you think of spending that kind of money on a stranger?”

He shrugged. “I like your stance, and I find your bravery admirable. There is little more good I could do in this world than to get a talented young woman such as yourself out of this terrible place.” He gestured at the crumbling stones around them, but really he meant to indicate the whole city. She seemed to get his meaning, and nodded.

She thought for a moment, and then locked her green eyes on his azure ones. “All right,” she said. “I’ll get through this. I’m going to hold you to that promise of yours.”