The first stab was slow and lazy and Keelin turned it aside easily. Instead of returning the effort, he threw himself sideways, rolling over a table and putting the slab of wood between them. Derran had always had the reach advantage, being the taller of the two, and even now that they were both adults he was still taller.
Derran didn’t round the table, nor jump atop it. He locked his eyes on Keelin’s and smiled. Keelin smiled back, and a moment later the table shifted as Derran kicked it, the wood connecting with Keelin’s groin and sending him staggering back in pain. The distraction gave the Blademaster all the time he needed to walk around the table, and once more Keelin found himself within easy striking distance.
Again Derran flicked a lazy attack. This time Keelin turned the slash aside and returned two of his own. Derran’s sword flew backwards, catching one of Keelin’s then twisting almost unnaturally to snare the other. Before Keelin knew how it had happened, he found both his cutlasses crossed and against his chest with Derran’s sword pressed up against them.
Keelin pushed and Derran stepped away, his blade flicking around under Keelin’s guard and scoring a hit on his chin.
“You could have killed me.” Keelin dabbed at the cut, and his hand came away red.
“Yes,” Derran said. “I could have. Unless you start fighting seriously, little brother, the next one will.”
“You want me to try to kill you?”
“Yes. There is no other way to fight. If we hold back then we will never really know who’s better.”
“What does it matter who’s better?” Keelin remembered T’ruck Khan wanting to duel him for the same reason, and he’d beaten the giant without killing him just like he would his own brother.
“It’s the only thing that matters,” Derran said as he moved forwards again.
Keelin didn’t give his brother a chance to attack; he leapt forwards, slashing both high and low at once. Derran stepped back out of range and Keelin kept the pressure on, reversing his swords and attacking again. Again Derran stepped away. Keelin grinned and followed up, but a quick stab from his brother’s sword sent him stumbling backwards, pain coursing through his chest.
A spot of blood appeared on Keelin’s shirt, and it came with agony laced with fire. Before he could form a new plan, Derran was upon him with two quick slashes that Keelin blocked with ease. A third sweep came in, and Keelin parried and returned one of his own, trying to get some distance to recover. Derran caught Keelin’s arm with his free hand, twisted and stepped close. Pain exploded in Keelin’s face as the pommel of Derran’s sword connected with his cheek. He staggered away, amazed that he didn’t taste blood.
Opening his eyes, Keelin saw Derran standing in front of him with two swords. It took him a moment to realise one was his own.
“Impressive, br…” Keelin started, but Derran didn’t let up his attack.
They were well and truly in among the tables and chairs now, and Keelin found himself giving ground and struggling not to trip over any furniture. Derran seemed as adept with two swords as he had been with one, and the man gave nothing away. His guard was as flawless as his attacks, and Keelin couldn’t see an opening anywhere.
Blocking a slash from his own sword, Keelin grabbed hold of a chair and flung it at Derran. Derran stepped aside and Keelin lunged towards the opening. His sword never made it.
Keelin screamed as the floor rushed up to meet him, his left leg collapsing. Looking down, he found his own sword wobbling in his thigh. With a grimace and a growl, he tried to drag himself away from his brother.
He hadn’t expected Derran to be so brutal. He’d said they were fighting to the death, but Keelin had thought it just a ploy to get him to fight harder. That his older brother might truly injure him or worse had never crossed his mind. It dawned on Keelin then that he didn’t really know the man in front of him, the man he hadn’t seen for over fifteen years.
“Fuck, Derran,” Keelin shouted as he dragged himself backwards. The sword in his leg was agony, but pulling it out now could do more damage.
Sir Derran Fowl, knight of the Five Kingdoms and world-renowned Blademaster, closed in on him, a blank expression on his face.
“I expected more from you, Keelin,” Derran said. “Not just because you’re known as the best in the isles, but because you’re my brother. Even as a child you showed skill. Where has it gone?”
Keelin winced and glanced at the sword in his leg. If Derran came just a couple of steps further he would be close enough for Keelin to stab him with it.
Derran pulled a nearby chair towards him and sat down. He let out a loud sigh.
“What now?” Keelin said, trying to buy some time. “You kill me and the rest of the town? Five Kingdoms win, and you murdered your little brother.”
“I have no intention of killing anyone else here. I came to test myself against the best swordsman in the isles. Seems I’ve already won. Barely even a fight.”
“Your king…”
“My king is a fool, Keelin. A well-informed fool, but a fool nonetheless.” Derran sighed. “He knows who you are. I should have figured it out myself. There can’t be that many swordsmen with your name. My king sent me to kill my own brother. What sort of man does that?”
“What sort of man follows the order?” Keelin said desperately.
Derran smiled. “I think I’m done with the Five Kingdoms and King Jackt Fucking Veritean. There must be someone in this world who can still give me a challenge.”
“What?” Keelin said, wincing at the pain and still trying to drag himself backwards.
“Perhaps the Wilds.” Derran grinned, fixing Keelin with a steely stare. In that moment Keelin couldn’t see a drop of the boy he’d once known, only the Sword of the North.
“Do you really think you have what it takes to kill an Arbiter?” Derran said.
Keelin was shaking with pain and fear and possibly blood loss. His brother didn’t seem to care. There was no emotion in Derran’s eyes.
“Goodbye, little brother.”
The Sword of the North stood and stepped forward. Keelin winced, but Derran stepped past him and carried on. Keelin felt the last of his strength leaving him, and the world went dark.
Chapter 16 - Fortune
A cheer went up as the last of the soldiers broke and ran for the relative safety of the trees. The pirates didn’t give chase; they were more than happy to let the jungle have the bastards. The little explosive coconuts Kebble had made had done more than just turn the tide – they’d devastated the enemy forces.
The Five Kingdoms force’s biggest advantage had been their training – they’d stuck together in tight formations so the pirates couldn’t get close without being cut down – but that advantage had worked against them in the end. Packed as closely together as they were, the explosions ripped through their ranks and caused equal amounts of death and chaos, and the latter let the pirates cause more of the former.
They’d won the day, though the cost had been almost more than they could bear. Already the wounded were being taken indoors and given over to triage, and anyone with even the slightest experience in the healing arts was being press-ganged into looking after those who needed it. The dead were piling up too, and there were a lot of them. Drake ordered them carted down to the beach so they could set up a proper pyre. Usually he ordered his dead given to Rin, but she wouldn’t accept any who had died on land, and the offering would be more likely to anger than appease the spiteful goddess.
Tanner limped towards Drake. The big pirate was bloodied and ruddy-cheeked, but there was a weariness about his eyes that Drake had never expected to see in his old nemesis. Drake’s own exhaustion had fled the moment the battle was won. He was no warrior – he was a leader, and he knew this was the time he needed to be most aware. There would be plenty of opportunities to grow his legend in the time just after a battle.