The Par’chin, too, gave a smile and lifted his spear. Whatever else he was, the son of Jeph was Sharum to his core, his soul at peace and ready for the lonely path.
I will sup with you again at Everam’s table, my true friend, Jardir thought as he leapt to attack.
Jardir’s attack was fast. Faster than Arlen had thought possible in daylight. But even so, Arlen was faster, the magic humming just beneath the surface of his skin, giving him strength and speed his foe could never match. He parried the thrust, smoothly following through into a return strike. He would strike with the shaft of his weapon at first, stealing face from Jardir before he finished the fight for real.
But Jardir surprised him, spinning his weapon inhumanly fast to parry the attack. They struck again and again, each move blending into the next. Both men gave and took ground, but when they broke apart, neither held advantage. There was grudging respect in Jardir’s eyes, and Arlen, too, knew he had been arrogant.
He’s drawing on the spear to give him strength in the day, Arlen realized.
‘You fight even better than I remember, Par’chin,’ Jardir complimented with a slight bow, his aura unreadable in the light of the setting sun. ‘Again I underestimate you.’
Arlen smiled. ‘You always say that.’
‘This time is the last,’ Jardir said. ‘I will not hold back any longer.’
And he did not. The First Warrior Priest of Krasia attacked again, and it was all Arlen could do to keep up. He was faster, barely, but Jardir had martial skills that even Arlen could not match. He managed to keep the point of Jardir’s spear at bay, but the butt and shaft began connecting, blows aided by impact wards and Jardir’s own enhanced strength.
But while he could not use his magic out in the sunlight, beneath the protective layer of his skin Arlen had free rein. His bones were stronger than warded glass, his muscles and tendons spring steel. The blows buffeted him, but none did serious damage, and the little they did was healed instantly.
Still, he was not dominating as expected. In fact, to the eyes of all around him, he was losing.
‘It is still my hope you will surrender, Par’chin,’ Jardir said. ‘Admit your crime and submit to me. My mercy is boundless, and I would still have you at my side in Sharak Ka.’
‘You don’t know the meaning of mercy,’ Arlen said. ‘If you truly cared about the First War, you would stop this meaningless grandstanding. Don’t you understand? We are drawing the mind demons. They don’t fear armies. They fear other minds, and will keep coming till we’re dead. In the meantime, all our peoples suffer for it.’
‘This is why we must unify now,’ Jardir said.
Arlen gritted his teeth and came back in, his anger redoubled. Their weapons were a blur as they leapt, twisted, and tumbled, clashing together and throwing each other back. Jardir came in with a blurring series of thrusts and spins of his weapon, and Arlen parried them all, realizing at the last moment they were all a feint as Jardir kicked high at his spear shaft, his sandalled foot blasting through the warded wood like a cornstalk.
Arlen stumbled back, keeping both his feet and the broken halves of the weapon, but in that instant his guard slipped slightly, and Jardir thrust. The Spear of Kaji sank into his abdomen, and Arlen screamed.
It wasn’t the cut. Arlen had been stabbed before, and it was a pain he could ignore in the heat of battle. This was something far more. The wards on the speartip activated, burning at the wound as they Drew his magic, sharpening the blade and adding to the impact. The shock ran through his whole body, an agony beyond comparison, like having his very soul sucked away.
Jardir’s own eyes bulged as he felt the drain, and in that instant he, too, dropped his guard. Arlen struck him hard across the face with the butt end of his sundered spear, sending his foe stumbling away and breaking the killing Draw.
Arlen dropped one of the spear halves to clutch at the wound, his hand coming away bright with blood. There were cries of anguish and triumph from the bystanders, but he ignored them, desperately trying to focus his remaining strength to heal the wound. It continued to burn, unable to heal fully, but the flow of blood slowed as it crusted.
That’s gonna scar, Arlen knew.
He glanced at the setting sun, wishing it would sink faster. He gave up all hope of humiliating his foe, focused now on simply surviving the next three-quarters of an hour.
Jardir hit the ground hard, but rolled right to his feet, more stunned than harmed. His cheekbone and jaw had fractured with the blow, but he had been so suffused with power when the Par’chin struck, the damage healed almost instantly.
He looked at the Par’chin, and Abban’s words came back to him. He is the man I remember, and he is not.
Indeed, the Par’chin had a whole new fighting style now, a blend of sharusahk and something else entirely. He was even faster and stronger than Jardir, but more than that, he fought as if accustomed to the advantage, while Jardir was still learning to apply it fully.
But it was only a matter of time until he could analyse the style and bring his rival down. He thought he had done so on the last pass, but he had been unprepared for the way the Spear of Kaji came alive with the thrust, as charged with magic as when he had thrust it into the alagai prince.
Was the Par’chin an agent of Nie? It seemed impossible. Unthinkable. But what other explanation could there be?
He Drew hard on the magic filling the spear, attacking with renewed fury.
Arlen dodged and leapt, ducked and twisted, doing everything in his power to avoid the deadly speartip. Giving up all thought of offence made it easier, but it was a sign of desperation that all assembled could see. Jardir was the better fighter, and tireless, now using Arlen’s own strength against him. He dominated the battle, and everyone around them held their breath, waiting for the killing blow.
But then the sun slipped below the horizon at last, and the rules changed. He could see Jardir’s crown and spear glowing fiercely, but he Drew on the ambient magic rising all around them, and felt his own strength returning as well.
The next time Jardir thrust, the Spear of Kaji passed through him as if Jardir had stabbed a cloud of smoke. It still burned at him, wards brightening as they pulled at his magic, but it was worth the pain as Arlen stepped into the blow, punching Jardir hard in the throat. He solidified fully with his arm hooked around the shaft of the Spear of Kaji and ducked with a twist, pulling the powerful weapon from Jardir’s grasp and flipping him onto his back.
Jardir kicked back up to his feet in an instant, whirling to face the Par’chin, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.
‘You may have gained the spear for a moment, Par’chin, but you will not keep it,’ he promised.
‘Keep it?’ the Par’chin asked, looking at the weapon with disdain. ‘Don’t even want it any more. World’s better off without it.’ Then he did the unthinkable.
He turned and threw the Spear of Kaji over the edge of the cliff.
Jayan cried out, breaking ranks to run down the mountain path in search of it. The Par’chin turned, drawing heat and impact wards in the air that blasted the cliff face, sending a shower of stones to block his path.
‘No one leaves until this is finished!’ he thundered.
‘Very well, servant of Nie,’ Jardir said. ‘Let us finish it.’ He concentrated, extending the protective field of his crown as he charged, meaning to use its power to drive the son of Jeph over the edge into the abyss where he belonged.
But the magic of the crown, which he had thought could repel all alagai, had no effect on the Par’chin, and they grappled instead. Jardir took an immediate advantage, working into a strong hold, but again the Par’chin collapsed into smoke, escaping to re-form an instant later, landing heavy blows.