The Spirit of Wrath

Chapter Twenty-Two: Single Combat

Sahshir should have attacked at once.

Narcissa and Dakan were fleeing into the Sanctum as he spoke. But he knew how dangerous Garacel was and wanted to avoid making a mistake. So he took a stance and waited as Garacel observed him. Then, the two began to circle one another, looking for weaknesses in their guards.

The truth was he would lose and be forced to retreat. If so, Garacel would pursue Dakan. Therefore, his best hope was to hold Garacel at bay for a time and then withdraw.

"There have been one or two problems, as there always are," said Garacel. "But I am well enough content with how things have turned out.

"What of you, Kalthakian? Does the destruction of your enemies bring you joy?"

"By you?" asked Sahshir. "Only disgust."

Garacel raised his sword and prepared for a strike. Sahshir mirrored the motion. "I wonder what made you so determined to confront me. Indeed, you could have left Dakan here to face me and gone yourself.

"Narcissa and Alkela would have been an easier target."

"You invaded my home. And hurt those that belong to me," said Sahshir. It was more personal than he would like to admit.

"I have invaded many places, and all have trembled beneath my footsteps," said Garacel. "Though yours was more challenging than most, your vendetta is hardly new. For I am Garacel, and few are they who can stand against me and live.

"Still, I have a vendetta of my own. It will take some time for me to regain the servants you destroyed. I will face you again, sword to sword. And let the strongest triumph."

"So be it," said Sahshir.

Then, they surged at one another. Sahshir found his blade moving almost of its own accord. He lashed out again and again, moving ever faster. But Garacel moved with natural confidence and could not harm the living armor.

Then Garacel lashed out. Sahshir bent backward and avoided losing his head. He saw the blade gleaming slowly as it passed by his eyes. Then, falling to his hands, he backflipped away to gain distance.

But even as he landed, Garacel was on him. The Sword of Order was raised, and the blow rang. There they stood, locked, will against will, blade against blade. Garacel had the advantage; his blade's weight was like a mountain, and Sahshir was forced to one knee. He was losing. But Garacel had an imbalanced stance.

Rolling forward, Sahshir slipped away from the blade. Slashing, he caught Garacel in the leg. The living armor reeled, and he stumbled black. Sahshir pressed his advantage and drove his enemy before him. Again, Garacel met him in combat, and the Sword of Order flashed this time.

Garacel's blade shattered. Sahshir's sword passed through toward his heart. But Garacel turned mid-thrust and caught the edge in one hand. The impact of it cracked and bent the fingers, but the Sword of Order was halted. The gauntlet began to melt.

"Very swift," said Garacel. "A strike akin to lightning itself. Let me demonstrate my own." He raised one palm.

Sahshir tried to free his sword and realized he wouldn't have the chance. He let go and ducked just in time for a barrage of pink lightning to surge past where he had been. He felt the electrifying heat on his skin, which burned him as he fell. After that, he hardly ever felt anything. The bolt struck a nearby building, and the walls began to melt around it. In moments, the entire structure collapsed into nothingness.

Garacel gripped the Sword of Order in his hand. But the blade was caught between his melted fingers. He tore it out With a snarl, breaking his gauntlet and raising the sword. He examined it. "A great weapon. Once, long ago, Valranor bade me wield it in his stead. I was always the greater warrior between us." He raised the weapon. "You have grown, Kalthakian. Your power has increased drastically in such a short time. Such is the way of the Lord of Knights."