David Dalglish - The Death of Promises

“So you survived all those fights how?” he asked. “Surely not battle prowess?”

“Amusing.”

Lathaar stepped closer, swinging both blades in a high arc. Jerico blocked the first with his mace, angling the hilt of his weapon to push the second hit down so that it passed harmlessly before his leg. When the shortsword cut back and thrust, Jerico finally pulled down his shield. The fine edge turned against the brightly glowing surface. If he had been of evil nature, Lathaar’s arms would have jolted in pain, but instead he felt just a mild push at the contact.

Jerico placed the shield before him, covering all but his feet and the top of his head. Lathaar could not see, but he knew the way the paladin’s eyes were glinting that he was smiling.

“I may not be the best fighter,” Jerico said from behind his shield. “I’m probably not even good at it. But I’m harder than the abyss to kill.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Lathaar feinted twice, and neither time budged the giant shield. He thrust both his swords from one side, hoping to curl around the right edge of the shield. Jerico shifted, smashing away the swords as if they were nothing. Lathaar felt his arms pushed back from the contact. He gave his opponent no rest. Again his swords slashed out, this time from either side. Again the shield pushed them away, batting left and right. His swords accomplishing nothing, he tried a new tactic. He slammed his entire body against the shield, hooking the hilts of his swords against the edge. His body shook with the contact. He spun off, pulling with his swords to toss Jerico’s shield out and wide. Finally, his opponent was exposed.

And so was he.

The two were so close that Lathaar had no time to react before the ridged edges of Jerico’s mace rested against his neck.

“You were doing so well,” Jerico teased. “And then you had to do something stupid.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Lathaar said, pushing the mace away with his fingers. “I’ve never seen anything like what your shield has become.”

“No one has. I asked Keziel, as well Lolathan and Mornida at the Citadel. No paladin has been given the blessing that I have. It’s always the weapon we hold that projects our faith and gains Ashhur’s blessing. I guess for me, I’ve always viewed my shield as my greatest weapon.”

“I’d never outlast you,” Lathaar said, spinning his swords. “And you’ll never make a mistake. That’s how you lived all these years, isn’t it?”

Jerico kicked the dirt and blushed a little.

“You make me sound so much better than I am. I have a big shield and Ashhur’s made it glow. Let’s not get carried away here.”

Lathaar smashed his swords together, showering sparks to the ground.

“Again. I’ll figure out how to beat you. I just need some time.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Jerico said, hoisting up his shield so that his eyes just barely peered over. “Ashhur knows it’s been awhile since I had some competition.”

Lathaar tensed, thinking over several routines for attack, when suddenly Jerico lunged, his shield leading. Before he could move, the gleaming object slammed against his arms. He braced his legs to stop, but he was off balance and Jerico knew it. The shield lowered, and too late Lathaar understood why. A foot swept underneath, taking out Lathaar’s legs. The paladin hit the ground, gasping as the air was knocked from his lungs. Jerico stood over him, grinning.

“That’s to make sure you don’t get comfortable,” he said. “Don’t think I’m going to sit here all day letting you hack at me. Understood?”

He clipped his mace at his belt and offered his hand. Lathaar took it, shaking his head as he stood.

“I thought we’d practice, and maybe I’d teach you a thing or two. Guess it’s going to be the other way around, isn’t it?”

Jerico tapped his forehead with his forefinger.

“I had five years of training at the Citadel beyond what you were given. And don’t think you’ve fought any more, or suffered any worse, than I have since the Citadel fell. Normally I’d try to be gentler about this, but we’re the last. We have no chance for error and no room for pride. The next time we spar, we wear armor. Understood?”

“Yes, master,” Lathaar said, doing his best to swallow his bruised pride.

“Come on, now,” Jerico said, smacking him on the arm with an open palm. “No pouting, and no master, or teacher, or whatever else you can think of. I’m your brother in Ashhur and that’s more than good enough for me.”

Lathaar stood, sheathing his swords and then brushing off the dirt from his clothes.

“You going to be alright?” Jerico asked him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He bowed to the other paladin. “I just expect a bit more maturity from myself. We’ll spar again tomorrow, and it’ll be far closer than today, I assure you.”

Jerico grinned. “Now that’s more like it.”

L athaar searched inside the Sanctuary, but it was outside that he found Keziel.

“I wouldn’t think the cold air would be good for an old man like you,” he said, bowing before his elder.

“The air’s cold everywhere, and a walk amid nature does me far better than the dim light inside.” He continued to shuffle along. “You have something on your mind, child? Out with it.”

“Have you thought about the curse on the girl I told you of last night?” Lathaar asked.

“If Calan cannot cure it, and believes that I cannot as well, then I trust his judgment,” Keziel said. “But you knew this before you ever came to me. What is it that really bothers you?”

“It’s about Mira,” he blurted. “I think there’s more to her than what you told me.”

“I told you everything you needed to know,” Keziel said, his eyes fixed firmly ahead. “She’s a special girl, one rarely born upon our world. Protect her, keep her safe, and nothing else should matter.”

“But I’ve found another,” Lathaar said. The old man halted his walk and stared at Lathaar with disbelieving eyes.

“You shouldn’t lie to an old man.”

“No lie. I have seen another, by the name of Tessanna. I witnessed her magic, and even fought against her. She rivals Mira in power, and she may well be her twin.”

Keziel resumed his walk. “What I can tell you will not ease the fears in your heart,” he said. “And it will not aid you in choosing your next path. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“I must know,” Lathaar said. “I made a promise to a friend.”

Keziel sighed and scratched his long white beard.

“I don’t think even Mira knows what she really is. Few do. Are you sure you want to hear?”

Lathaar nodded.

“Very well,” the old man said with another sigh. “Then listen carefully.”

The paladin did listen. And when Keziel was done, Lathaar knew a lot of riding awaited him in the coming months. Tarlak needed to be told. Mira too. And Keziel was right; his fears were not eased. Not in the slightest.

W here is it you think you’re going?” Jerico asked him as Lathaar saddled up his horse.

“Stonewood forest,” Lathaar replied, pulling tight one of the leather straps. “I need to find Mira and bring her to Veldaren.”

“Who’s Mira? You have a love I don’t know about?”

Lathaar chuckled.

“She’s a young woman. She helped me defeat Darakken not so long ago.”

“What’s so important about getting to her?”

“Too long a story to tell.” The paladin hoisted up a rucksack just behind the saddle and began tying it on. “At least at this moment, anyway.”

“So I finally find you and now you’re going to leave me? So rude, Lathaar. I expect better from a fellow paladin.”

Lathaar laughed.