Кейт Новак - The Wyvern's Spur

Giogi fought down the anger the wizard’s words ignited in him. It looked as if he might be sorely outclassed in this battle. It was imperative that he remain levelheaded.

It was true that Uncle Drone was a bit of a duffer, and secretly Giogi had harbored hostility toward Cole for dying and abandoning him, and there was no doubt that Cat had made a very unwise decision allying herself with Flattery. None of those things, however, were as important as the fact that he loved all those people. They were his family.

Giogi was just beginning to understand why he always stood up for them in spite of their failings. They wouldn’t be a family without failings. Poor Steele only feels Frefford’s rank and my wealth because he’s had to live second to them. Julia only wants to be loved. Aunt Dorath only wanted to protect me from her own fears. As for the others, …

“My uncle was foully ambushed,” Giogi stated. “My father died defending the family honor. And the lady never loved you; she was terrified of you. Who could blame her?”

Flattery scowled for just a moment, and his blade wavered. Giogi thought, Can’t take what he dishes out, eh?

“I wonder,” Giogi continued, suddenly feeling more confident and mixing feints in with his attacks, “What kind of man has no respect for the elderly, no loyalty to his family, and prefers the company of undead to a beautiful woman? You know, Flattery, I don’t think you’re a man at all.”

Flattery made a direct attack, low and clumsy, which Giogi parried easily.

“Close to the mark, eh?” the nobleman said with a chill disdain. “My guess would be you’re some sort of lich with an illusion spell to mimic the face of a true Wyvernspur.”

Flattery pressed at the nobleman’s blade, thrust, and lunged. The foil pierced through Giogi’s tabard and pricked the skin below his ribs before the nobleman managed to retreat.

Giogi nearly backed into Cat, who was still behind him reciting the words to some involved magic spell. Startled, the mage broke off her chant for a fraction of a second as she retreated to avoid being trampled by the nobleman. Upon recovering her balance, she resumed chanting, even faster than before.

“People say you’re nothing but a useless wastrel with delusions of being a warrior,” Flattery snarled. “You aren’t even competent with the foil. I’ve drawn first blood already.”

“Ah, but at least I have blood you can draw. What have you got, Flattery? If I get lucky and score a hit, will there be blood on my weapon or just some oozing ichor?”

Flattery thrust and lunged again, but Giogi parried and riposted. Flattery retreated slightly.

Both men slowed their attacks. Somewhere in his past Flattery had learned to fence very well, but it was not a skill he’d exercised for some while. He was tired. Giogi, who’d been riding and walking regularly, making his journey home, could last for some time, provided he wasn’t dealt a mortal wound—which ultimately Flattery could deliver.

Since Giogi’s purpose was to buy time for his Uncle Drone to arrive, not get himself killed, he slowed his attacks as well.

Still chanting, Cat pulled from her sash the special component the spell required. It was wrapped in a piece of paper and still smelled quite strong. She dipped all her fingers into it.

Flattery’s attacks began to speed up again, and Giogi renewed his taunting banter.

“So. What happened to all the zombies and ghouls? Did the Shard’s mist destroy every last one? Are those undead cowering from the light over there all that’s left of your army?”

“Undead are easy to recruit,” Flattery growled. “When we’ve finished with this battle, I shall give you a firsthand demonstration.”

Giogi felt Cat very close behind him. While he realized she needed to stay in the circle of light shed by the finder’s stone, so the undead did not attack her, he wished she would back away a little more, for both their safety.

She was practically chanting in his ear, words that made no sense at all to him. Her hands reached about his head, and she ran her fingers down his cheeks, smearing them with her spell component. She intoned, “Be as the beast.”

Giogi crinkled his nose. The scent of the spell components Cat had used to hold the shadow, garlic and sulfur, lingered on her hands, mingled in with a much stronger and more unpleasant odor—rather like dung. Cat pulled her hands back. “This is the only spell I have left,” she whispered in Giogi’s ear. “I’ve saved it for you, my love.” Then she stepped back.

Flattery’s nose twitched from the smell. “You can give him the strength of a golem, Catling, but it won’t improve his fencing. His skill is abysmal.”

The wizard’s prediction, however, proved wrong. With the muscles in Giogi’s arms strengthened, his weapon suddenly felt lighter, and he wielded it with more speed and fluidity. He broke through one of Flattery’s parries and stabbed the wizard’s chest.

“One-one, Flattery,” the nobleman said. His tone was grim. He knew he could not afford to grow cocky. “Hmm,” he said, eyeing the tip of his foil as it danced before him. “Blood. Red blood. Liches don’t bleed I’m going to have to reevaluate my opinion of you. Let’s see. What bleeds and looks human but isn’t? Flesh golems or those devilish little homonculi. Are you a golem, Flattery?”

Flattery growled, beat at Giogi’s blade, and lunged for his heart. Giogi tried a stop-thrust with only partial success. His foil went harmlessly through the robe of Flattery’s sleeve while Flattery’s foil pierced Giogi’s shoulder blade.

Giogi clenched his teeth against the pain. “Flesh golems don’t get angry, but you’re awfully tall for a homonculous.”

Olive Ruskettle crept down the front hall of Flattery’s keep. Once Dorath had returned with Amber, Drone changed into a pegasus, and he and Olive had flown to Flattery’s lair. The halfling had convinced Drone to wait outside to give her time to scout out the territory. If Giogi was still alive, she would get the spur to him, and he could handle Flattery. If it was too late, then Drone was her only way off the rock, and she didn’t want him captured or killed.

She arrived at the audience hall in time to catch the last minute of Giogi’s fencing duel with Flattery. Olive stood in the doorway and watched with interest. The wizard’s fury was out of all proportion to the taunts Giogi made. Olive realized that those taunts must have some basis in truth.

The halfling moved to enter the room but found her passage blocked by an unseen barrier. As she ran her hands across the smooth surface, it crumbled at her touch like a dried sand castle or a spell that had reached its maximum duration. Within the passage of a breath, the way was clear to where Giogi mocked the increasingly furious wizard.

Unfortunately, while Flattery did grow careless in his anger, he did not grow careless enough to give Giogi the winning edge.

Then Giogi said, “You’re not a Wyvernspur. You’re an overgrown homonculous, some wizard’s imp who escaped.”

Flattery made a running charge at Giogi, missing him completely in his rage. The charge so startled Giogi that he tripped and fell over backward, losing both his foil and the finder’s stone.

The wizard loomed over Giogi, with his foil pointed at the nobleman’s throat. Flattery put a foot on Giogi’s chest and said, “I will tell you what I told your father in his dying moments, as we fell toward the earth. My father was a Wyvernspur so vile that the Harpers wiped his name from the Realms and banished him to a Limbo.”

“Nameless!” Olive cried out with excitement. “I was right! You did mean the Nameless Bard.”

Flattery whirled around, with the same look on his face he’d worn the night he’d murdered Jade and Olive had screamed at him. Olive gulped, but she stood her ground.