“No closer,” Darius said, pointing his sword toward the prophet’s throat.
“You do not need to remain a failure. You do not need to wallow in guilt. Lower your weapon, and listen to my words. I never lied to you. I would never lie…”
Darius prayed for strength, for courage. His time in Durham flashed back to him, and he thought of the innocent family he’d butchered in Karak’s name. He used that anger, that shame, to keep his sword raised. Still, Velixar was there, smiling, stepping closer. Always there to discuss, to speak his truth. Darius would not listen. He would not!
“Do not be afraid,” Velixar said. His throat was mere inches from the tip of Darius’s sword. “You have nothing to be afraid of…traitor!”
Velixar lunged, his face locked in a horrific scowl. Darius started to thrust, but saw that the prophet wielded daggers. He almost didn’t block, for it made no sense. His instincts ruled in the end, and he pulled back, his sword whirling. He blocked the thrusts, parried another, and then retreated closer to the fire. Velixar remained back, but he was no longer Velixar, and no longer smiling.
“You could never just die, could you?” asked Valessa.
“I could say the same for you,” Darius said, trying to remain confident. The black robes were gone, as was the ever-changing face. She wore her gray cloak and plain leather armor. Two wicked daggers twirled in her hands. Darius felt like he was trapped in a nightmare. This hardly made any more sense than Velixar returning to walk the lands.
“You flung yourself against my blade,” he said. “You killed yourself rather than accept defeat. What magic lets you live again?”
“Magic?” she said. “This is no magic. No blessing. No curse. This is vengeance.”
When she moved, it was as if she became a shadow, her armor fading, her flesh a blur of darkness. Her daggers shone red, and he focused on them, nothing else. His greatsword had benefits of reach, but it lacked in speed. Protecting himself from her barrage involved a constant retreat, a step back for her every step forward. She twisted and struck with inhuman speed. Could he hurt her, he wondered?
At last he saw an opening. His counter-riposte slashed across her arm. The blade passed right through her, as if she were only smoke. At first the lack of blood and flesh disheartened him, but then he heard her scream. She pulled back, clutching at the wound, which was a deep gray scar compared to the rest of her body. He gave her no reprieve, thrusting for her chest. He thought her helpless, for she’d pressed against a large tree to avoid the thrust. He swung wide, a chop that would remove her head from her neck…he hoped.
But instead it thunked into wood. Before his very eyes, she’d sunk into the tree, as if it had been nothing but a mirage. He freed his sword just in time, for Valessa burst forth from the trunk, daggers leading. Darius blocked both, and he pressed against her crossed blades, strength against strength.
“What are you?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“Your better,” she said.
“Not a chance.”
The light of his sword shone against her in such close contact. The flesh of her face peeled away, revealing the darkness beneath. She let out a cry, then retreated beyond the edge of the firelight. Darius did not chase; he was too busy catching his breath.
“I do not sleep,” she told him, pacing along the camp’s edge. “I do not eat. I do not tire. Walls mean nothing to me, Darius. Nothing. What hope do you have? Your death is only a matter of time. I will send you to Karak’s Abyss, and enjoy watching you burn.”
“You’re wrong, Valessa,” Darius said, watching her, his sword still held tight. “You won’t kill me, and even if you do, Karak won’t have me.”
“You will go to the Abyss if I have to drag you there myself!”
She attacked, her daggers arcing for gaps in his armor. Darius twisted so one scraped harmlessly against the platemail, then smacked aside the other so he could counter. His sword cut across her breast, white light shining. Again she shrieked, and fled out of his reach.
“What was it you’d do to me?” he asked her, laughing despite his tired limbs. At first Valessa looked ready for another assault, but she pulled back further, shaking her head.
“I endured death so I might kill you, Darius. I can wait a few more hours. You must sleep, and when you do, I will be watching. I will always be watching.”
Valessa faded away into the darkness, her voice lingering in the night. Darius lowered his sword and took a breath.
“Damn.”
He thought to put his back to a tree, then realized how foolish an idea that was, given that he faced an opponent who moved through trees as if they were not there. He stood in the open beside his fire and scanned his surroundings. He didn’t see her, but that meant nothing. His instincts told him to flee, but where? If he pressed hard, he might reach the edge of the forest, but what did that gain him? Where might he sleep in safety, assuming she did not ambush him while he stumbled along? Not even castle walls could protect him. No amount of guards might keep her away.
And she was right. No matter how strong he was, he had to sleep eventually.
“Could really use you here, Jerico,” Darius said, settling down beside the fire on his knees. Ashhur would warn him of any danger, he knew, but would it be enough if he were asleep? If only Jerico were there. They could spend the night in shifts, one awake, one asleep. But he was alone, and days away from civilization.
“This isn’t how it should end,” he whispered. It didn’t seem fair. Didn’t seem just. He had but one idea left, and that was to bait Valessa into combat. If he could kill her, assuming she could be killed, then that removed the threat of her ambush. He stood again, lifting his sword above his head.
“Is that it?” he cried to the darkness. “You’re going to run? You’re going to play the coward? What does that prove? You were weaker than me in life, and even with Karak’s strength, you’re weaker now. With every moment you hide, you accept Ashhur’s greatness!”
Darius tensed, expecting her to launch at him with those blasted daggers. But instead, he heard her laughter from amid the trees.
“Do you think I am a fool to be baited?” she asked, momentarily appearing at his right before vanishing. “A child to be made reckless? You bear the gifts of Ashhur, and I of Karak. Your training may be better, your armor superior…but we still bear our gifts. And mine will send you to your grave. Lie down, Darius. Let Ashhur protect you. You’re his beloved, aren’t you? We’ll see how much he cherishes his children…and make no mistake, Darius, you are the last of his children, you and Jerico. For such a victory, I can wait. And wait. Can you?”
Darius swallowed.
“Damn.”
He stabbed his sword into the earth, grabbed its hilt, and knelt before it. He was already tired from the several days’ journey, and the fight with Valessa had only worn him out further. His eyelids felt heavy, worse with each moment now that the excitement of battle was fading. No solutions came to mind, no matter how much he tried to think. Despair threatened him, but he refused it. This was the life he had chosen. When Jerico had offered his hand, and a hope for something better, he’d taken it, and he would not question the decision now.
“You won’t win,” Darius said, closing his eyes and trusting Ashhur to warn him if she were to attack again. “Even if you kill me, you won’t win.”
The night droned on, silent but for the crickets and the rustle of nocturnal birds. He clutched his sword, gripping the hilt hard enough to hurt his hands. He couldn’t sleep. If he made it to daylight, perhaps he would think of something. Retreat back to Kaide? No, they’d only kill him as well. His mind couldn’t focus. Everything about him was too calm, too quiet. Valessa no longer made her presence known, did not speak to him. Part of him wanted to believe she was nothing but an illusion, a terrible dream he’d slipped into as he lay beside the fire.