Eros

Men of Light and Shadow - 19

Roxwell declined the other helmet with a shake of a head.

"Why won't he take the helm?" Mila murmured nervously.

"Please, sweetheart," The queen giggled behind her. "Have some faith in our king."

"King Unitor Roxwell, Garus." The auburn haired Paladin spoke. "You are about to duel in the Ring, before the One True God. Once the duel begins, only one of you may leave the Ring alive. If any of you wishes to withdraw from the challenge, your last chance is now."

Garus raised the point of his greatsword from the obsidian flagstones, to clear his intentions. Roxwell grasped the hilt sticking from the scabbard at his belt. It had a pommel of bronze, bindings of worn leather, and tangled coils of Ebonsteel as a guard. The Bladeweaver drew, and his rapier, fabled by so many names they lost all meaning, hissed free of its sheath.

The blade was slender, with an edge so sharp it broke the twilight sunrays. And Black. Not black like pitch or ink, but an absolute black that consumed every light that dared to touch it. Mila thought it was odd that this blade, said to have been granted to Roxwell by the One True God himself, looked so... dark.

"Very well." Said the handsome Paladin, and withdrew into the crowd. "As the honored of our realm and the One True God bear witness, let the duel begin!"

Before the last word left the Paladin's mouth, Garus charged. There was such force to him, Mila was almost surprised that the pavement didn't shatter beneath his plated stomps. He swung his greatsword from the hip. The blade was long and heavy, yet it soared at hazing speed, cutting towards Roxwell in a wide, dark arc.

The Bladeweaver moved like a dancer. Quick, elegant, and precise. His moccasins bent, heels hovering over the flagstones as his feet darted. The greatsword swiped the air before his chest, and he flicked out his rapier as he dodged. His reach was nowhere near the Giant's, and his blade clicked against Garus' gauntlet, barely scratching the Ebonsteel.

Nevertheless, it seemed to enrage the Paladin. He resisted the momentum of his greatsword, and with a counter turn of his torso, and launched it back towards Roxwell. The Bladeweaver's feet blurred in another lunging step, his idle arm folded behind his back, and his rapier poised before him.

Again, he poked Garus' armor as the greatsword missed him, letting the point of his rapier slide across the vambrace.

A low, dangerous growl echoed out the Paladin's helmet.

"He's downplaying him." The queen whispered in Mila's ear. "With blades of Ebonsteel, even a scratch is deadly. Garus' body may be armored, but his pride isn't."

Mila understood what she meant a moment later, when the Giant of Delib attacked. His fury was immense, like a mountain grizzly, poked out of his sleep amidst the winter. He slashed without cease. His swordsmanship unflawed, abusing his vast reach and raw strength, propelling his great blade at speed you just couldn't get used to.

The Bladeweaver waltzed between the black arcs it swiped through the air. More than once, the greatsword cut at Roxwell's cape. Mila suspected it was part of his strategy. The king was lean of build, and his rapid movements fluttered the cape about him, masking his body with false bulk.

He dodged without fail, but not at all with leisure. His eyes were at absolute focus, sweat rolling down his brow.

He, however, never missed a chance to tap Garus' armor. His rapier was like a playful viper, lunging out, letting its reptilian tongue brush against its prey, then slinking away without sinking its fangs. To Mila it seemed to be doing more harm than benefit.

Each clink against his plate seemed to fuel Garus' vigor. He marched in step after step, lashed out swing after swing, did not stop and did not slow. The weight of the armor was nothing to his strength, and the greatsword moved as naturally as a limb, inseparable from his arms.