Eros

Men of Light and Shadow - 19

Twilight raked the sky like crimson claws. The time for the duel has come.

Paladins and nobles of the High Houses had gathered at the top of Korthar, Anerock's mountain mounted capital, and stood around the Ring.

The Ring was no more than a circle of bloodstained, obsidian flagstones. No seats, refreshments, or any other sort of comforts were offered to the observers, no matter how rich they were. In Anerock, duels were a matter of honor and fate. Not entertainment.

Garus walked down the road: tall, mighty, and clad in armor of black, bronze fringed plates. His hands were shackled, and two guards walked besides him, dwarfed by his hulking stature. A third guard trailed behind them, carrying a black greatsword.

Upon reaching the Ring, they unbound Garus. He pulled at the rims of his gauntlets, and then retrieved his weapon from the guard.

Even as a maid and a child Mila had heard the tales of Ebonsteel. Steel that's black as coal, lighter and stronger than any other.

When the Unison War erupted in Anerock, Roxwell's elite came wielding this steel, forged of ores that were never seen in Aros before. Tales told that the smallest cut from Ebonsteel was enough to infect your blood. And once your blood had been infected, you were as good as dead.

Despite herself, Mila shuddered as Garus crossed the Ring. The look in his eyes was just like then. He yearned to ravage flesh. Then with his body, and now with the greatsword he carried in his trunk of an arm. She couldn't bear to look, but couldn't look away. She had to flee.

Mila backpedaled, and a feminine hand fell soft on her shoulder, stopping her. She looked up to see Avina smiling at her. The queen's smile was so gentle, genuine, and warm.

For a moment it made her forget about the evil she lately discovered in the world. For a moment, it gave her hope. No matter how short that moment was, there was nothing she cherished more.

"Would you like to return to the castle, my dear?" Avina soothed down her arm. "You don't have to stay and watch. I will come to celebrate with you as soon as our king triumphs."

Her optimism brought a smile to Mila's lips. "It's alright, I want to stay."

"Ah- Here he is!" Avina pointed excitedly, and Mila looked to the road.

The Bladeweaver strode without escort. Everything but his leather moccasins and gloves was covered in armor of sleek, black scales. They answered his every movement without the slightest sound or resistance, shifting as smoothly as a second set of skin. A cape sewn of black wool and threaded with bronze spread behind him as mountain winds blew.

He entered the Ring and stood before Garus. Shorter than most men, Roxwell seemed like a boy compared to the Giant of Delib. Mila was afraid the Paladin will step forward and strike him down right then. The two men studied one another with grim eyes.

Then Roxwell averted his gaze. The weathered features, trimmed mustache, thick mane, and firm gaze made a face that was both regal and fierce - the kind of face destined to be glorified upon statues. But statues often glorified the dead.

Mila lost her breath. It was only a moment later she realized he wasn't looking at her, but at Avina beside her. The queen pursed her lips, blowing him a kiss. A shadow of a smile came to the Bladeweaver's mouth.

A handsome Paladin with auburn hair and armor of Ebonsteel stepped into the Ring. He stepped between the duelists, and held out two black helmets. Garus snatched one, and slapped it onto his head, its rim clicking against his breastplate. The Giant of Delib became a humanoid cast of Ebonsteel, only his dark eyes showing through the horizontal slit in his helm.