The Duelist 6, page 14
“Why doesn’t he use ‘Broccoli?’” I muttered to myself, and suddenly I knew the answer.
Back then, after Rylan swooped in and saved my ass, I asked him how he knew to come get me, and he told me I’d called upon our code word when I distinctly remembered I hadn’t done anything of the sort.
Now, I just wanted to laugh, because apparently I did call for help, but it wasn’t Other Me who did it.
It was Me me.
“Broccoli!” I bellowed out for the second time as I concentrated on the Rylan of this time and prayed I wasn’t too late.
Disappearing Infinity War style wasn’t really my thing.
The stag-beetle snapped its maw, and the tree branch cracked and splintered into an explosion of shards.
Other Me caught a big one in his palm.
“Ouch,” I hissed as I rubbed my own hand. “I remember that. Bastard thing.”
Other Me wrapped his fingers around the wooden splinter and yanked the obstruction out in one mighty yank, and I winced again.
“Hee-oo!” The much-welcomed whistle of Other CanterRy trilled through the air, and Other Alex cheered in triumph at the same time I did.
My kid swooped through the air with powerful flaps of his young wings, and the diffused light from above made his blond coat shimmer like gold at the bottom of a riverbed. He was wholly solid in form unlike the semi-transparent Rylan from before. I figured this was a good sign and meant my concentration had worked, and I’d summoned the Rylan of this time.
Or… last time? I wasn’t sure how this all worked.
Maybe it was some kind of Harry Potter time-turner situation. Some sort of, “I knew I could summon a Patronus and so I did,” type of thing.
Regardless, the overwhelming gratitude I knew the Other Alex was feeling crashed through me all over again when I watched CanterRy flap his way into that bright veil of sky.
Fuck. I missed that kid.
“Rooooaaarrr!”
Shit. I’d forgotten about the damned stag-beetle, and as it turned around from the ledge with a pissed-off growl, I froze in my crouched position.
Its beady eyes scanned the line of trees and swept over me three times as I leaned against the base of a large trunk. This tree was halfway between the tar pit and the rest of the Dark Forest, so I had some coverage but not as much if I’d actually made it deeper into the brush.
The stag-beetle trundled closer in its lopsided gait, stopped, and scanned again.
My eyes darted around for something I could use to arm myself. Another hefty branch similar to the one that used to be on the beast’s face would do. Anything.
A flicker of something purple snagged my focus, and I zeroed in on something that should have been impossible.
It was a sword handle.
Specifically, the handle of the blade Other Rylan transformed from the stag’s own jaw bone.
I thought it was lost when it had fallen off the pedestal after I freed Amaya. It must have ricocheted off the side or something, because instead of being sucked under the tar, it had embedded itself in a piece of the pedestal itself. Then, when the whole thing came crumbling down, this chunk had ended up on the bank of the pit with the sword sticking out like Excalibur.
The stag-beetle must have sensed its missing jaw piece because it stilled before its gaze landed on the purple handle.
And then it slowly looked up to find me staring between it and the sword.
Hopefully, I was as fast as I thought I was, or at least faster than a stag-beetle.
It was only twenty yards away…
“Let’s dance,” I said with a wild grin.
Chapter 12
My breath was suspended in my lungs as I fought a silent battle of wills with the deadly beast about fifty yards away from me.
The Dark Sword that had been miraculously transformed by Rylan was on the bank of the tar pit. Its dark purple handle jutted out of a hunk of stone, and it seemed like the blade was just waiting to be wielded or reclaimed, depending on who got to it first.
And that was the question.
Who would get to it first?
Me, or the stag-beetle?
I wasn’t able to ponder this long because the stag-beetle had apparently made up its mind and ran for it at the same time as I did.
My heart thundered inside my head, and I prayed my legs wouldn’t let me down as I exploded from my crouched position into a dead sprint.
“Roooaaarr!” the stag-beetle thundered as all hell broke loose, and it lunged toward me with all its fury.
I managed to get to the embedded sword a fraction of a second before the beast, but when I went to pull the thing free like some triumphant King Arthur, the blade wouldn’t budge.
“Oh, fuck.” I had to abandon my goal when the stag-beetle slashed at me with one of its razor-bladed forearms.
The creature hissed as I danced back and away, and then it slowly circled around the trapped blade so it was facing me with its rage-fueled gaze and lopsided snapping maw.
If I wanted to get the sword, I would need to pull off an interesting maneuver to make it happen, and that meant summoning a time-trance. But when I’d recently summoned the power for only a second in order to keep Tharfin from getting whacked, it left me feeling like someone took a seam ripper to my head.
I was apprehensive, to say the least.
But unless I wanted to keep trying to outrun the beast indefinitely, the stag-beetle had to go.
I breathed deep…
Tick.
I laughed out a giddy laugh when no pain or irksome ringing blared through my head. In fact, I was growing so accustomed to both of those things that the stark absence of them was almost startling enough to make me lose my focus.
Almost.
Tick.
The stag-beetle swung around in slow-motion as I feinted and ran away from it off toward my right.
The creature took the bait and burrowed back underground so it could try to outpace the suddenly faster me.
Little did it know, I had an ace up my sleeve…
Tick.
Time slowed even more so I could adjust for the stag’s increase in speed, and when I judged the creature was far enough away from my objective, I banked hard on my heels, pivoted, and took off in the opposite direction.
Back toward the magnificent sword stuck in its tarred stone.
“Come on!” I groaned as I pulled with all my physical might, while mentally, I attempted to maintain the trance.
Ti--
Snap.
Shitfuck.
Maybe that was a bit beyond what I could do my first time back on the horse, so to speak.
Time resumed just as the stag-beetle erupted out of the ground in the exact place where I’d been before I changed course.
I tugged harder on the sword and put my foot down on the chunk of pedestal for extra leverage. When the beast discovered the trick I’d played, it was going to be so pissed--
“RRROOOAARRR!”
Too late.
My biceps burned as I used all my strength to yank the tar-coated blade out of the stone before the stag-beetle could get its bearings and come for me again.
“Come onnnnn!” A slick sucking noise came from the sword as it gave an inch, and then it started to slide slowly free from its sticky prison.
The booming sound of the beast burrowing back underground alerted me to the fact the stag-beetle was gearing up to ambush me once more.
Bit by bit, the tar was starting to give until the sword was halfway out of the stone block, but the quaking under my feet got worse as the stag-beetle tunneled closer and closer…
With an odd pop, like a suction cup losing its strength, the blade finally came out of the block just in time for me to take a flying leap backwards as the stag-beetle exploded out of the ground right where I’d just been standing.
Then, with the good side of its mandible, the beast pitched the stone block up and over its body and rushed directly at me.
I twirled the awesome sword so I was wielding it the right way around, and then I met the stag-beetle head-on in a clash that was slightly dulled due to the tar still slicking the metal. This didn’t impede my ability to maneuver, however, and when I jumped back, I flipped the sword around and brought it down two-handed through the beast’s skull.
Its final roar was cut off with a slow shriek, and it shuddered violently like a tractor breaking down in a field.
I didn’t let up until I knew for certain the bastard was fucking dead, and even when it rattled its last death rattle, I waited a good two minutes before I stood up and took several steps back.
“Ha! That’s right, bitch!” I said Jesse-style from Breaking Bad, but then I yelped and jumped back when the stag-beetle gave another gurgle and groaned as it tried to get up one last time.
Oh, hell no.
I leapt back on top of the creature and drove the sword deeper. “Fuck. Why. Won’t. You. Die?”
The skull cracked like a wet tree branch, and finally the damn thing went slack as a gross fluid seeped out of its split open head.
I stood back up with a grimace and pulled the weapon free.
“Finally!” I raged to absolutely no one.
But fucking darkhell. That thing was like a goddamn cockroach.
Although…
I glanced down at the curved sword with an almost manic grin.
This epic stag-blade my way-cool foster-son magicked for me wasn’t lost after all, and if I had to battle the Dark Realm beast just to retrieve it, then I called it a win overall.
Too bad I couldn’t take this puppy with me, but the knowledge that I had an actual stag-beetle mandible back home bubbled to the forefront of my mind, along with a list of things I wanted to ask Horus when he got better.
And he’d better get better. Because if not, who was going to forge me a real-life stag-beetle blade?
For now, having this sword actually exist in the Dark Realm independent of anyone, or even Rylan, the creator, having to be present, opened up a wealth of possibilities.
Especially considering something usually wanted to kill me at least sixty percent of the times I ended up “visiting.”
If I could hide this somewhere, I could access it whenever I came back… but where?
I looked around what remained of where I currently was, and I figured as far as these uniform circular clearings were concerned, this one was about as markedly different as it could get. The only thing I would have to test later was if I could actually find my way back here through meditation.
One thing at a time, and the first thing I needed to do was hide the sword.
My eyes tacked onto the large tree I’d been crouched next to when I’d attempted to hide earlier, and in the trunk facing away from the tar pit was a hollow that looked big enough to fit my arm in.
It was worth a shot, so I went over to examine it and saw it was more than suitable.
“There,” I mumbled to myself as I placed the sword in the hollow, stood back, and brushed my hands off. I’d concealed the blade so only someone who knew what they were looking for would be able to find it.
I froze suddenly when the sound of a deep male voice floated over the trees, and I nearly grabbed the sword again. But after the initial spike of adrenaline faded, I could tell the voice wasn’t getting closer, and in fact, it sort of sounded like the person was talking to himself more than anyone or anything.
Hm.
I glanced down at the patch of dirt I was just about to get my meditation groove on and then at the In-Between where I knew the voice was coming from.
Objectively, I knew I really needed to get back to my body now that my head seemed to be fixed, but also…
My curiosity was really getting the better of me, and I walked into the trees once more.
The voice sounded familiar, and also distraught and hopeless, and I couldn’t help but want to see who it belonged to. But then I would go. After all, I had it on Rylan’s good authority that messing with people while they dealt with the Dark Realm could lead to disaster, so I promised myself I would stick to the tree line.
When I actually saw for myself what was going on, and who the voice really belonged to, my plan of staying in the shadows completely flew out the window, because there was Gavlain Mec, the ram-lord of Nata, kneeling in the center of a stone altar.
And in his hand he held a dagger poised directly over his heart.
“Wait!” I yelled just as his mournful muttering tapered off, and his arm twitched like he was getting ready to plunge the blade into his chest.
I crashed out of the trees and got as far as wrestling the dagger out of the other man’s grip, but then I ran out of ideas once we were standing face to face with matching astonished expressions.
The ram-lord stared at me like he had no idea who I was, and as I stared back and took in his appearance, I realized why.
This Gavlain Mec was cleanshaven and about ten years younger than the man I’d come to know during my time in Aventoll. He also had deep circles under his eyes that dulled the usually rich bronze color and made him look world-weary.
“What are you?” the ram-lord growled when he finally snapped out of his shock. “An evil spirit? A demon?”
“An evil spirit that doesn’t want you to kill yourself?” I questioned and then clenched the dagger in my fist as I suddenly became angry. “What the fuck, by the way. You do know by now that whatever happens to you here happens up there?”
I gestured toward the blank sky with the point of the dagger.
“What’s it to you, spirit?” an edgier and less jovial Gavlain snapped.
I rolled my eyes. “I told you, I’m not an evil spirit.”
“Perhaps not evil, but meddlesome, yes.” He narrowed his eyes accusingly at me as if interrupting his suicide was a Major Inconvenience for him.
“Meddlesome?” I scowled. “Well, excuse me for coming between you and your planned seppuku. By all means, go ahead. Don’t mind me.”
And then I tossed the dagger down between us, and it sunk into the ground, hilt up.
The young ram-lord frowned down at the weapon, but he didn’t immediately go for it like I thought he might.
“How did you come by that word?” he asked instead.
“What? Seppuku?” I asked. His question threw me for a loop, and for a second I forgot about my anger.
“Yes,” he confirmed, and then he decided to retrieve his blade. He stared down at it in his palm for a moment before he returned it to the scabbard on his belt. “I have heard someone explain to me the art of this ‘seppuku.’”
Your grandfather was a Traveler, I wanted to say, but I only voiced the thought inside my head.
Since there was a very good chance this was actually Past Gav, and what I did or said next could completely alter the course of things, I made sure to check myself before I opened my mouth.
“I am a Traveler,” I decided. After all, that much should be obvious since I was in the Dark Realm, and to my knowledge, only those of Traveler blood could come here. “There’s a chance I come from the same place as the person you know.”
Young Gavlain cocked his horned head as he peered at me. I could see what seemed like a thousand thoughts flicker across his cleanshaven face before his noble features settled on suspicion once more.
It was quite a contrast to the open and receptive expression he normally directed my way, and it was not a good look on him.
“That sounds like something a trickster spirit would say,” he said.
“Argh!” I gripped fistfuls of my hair and clenched tight. Something pinched the inside of my palm at the action, and I pulled my hands away so I could see what happened.
The signet ring was still on my finger.
Of course, it was. Ever since Mec gave it to me, the ring with his family seal had stayed right on my first finger.
An idea bloomed in the back of my mind, but I almost dismissed it as just as reckless as telling the man about his grandfather.
But then… It helped me out once before when I was under Senna’s ruthless attack. Maybe it could help me again.
Because, deep down, I knew I couldn’t leave Gavlain alone in this clearing alone.
Decision made, I twisted off the ring on my finger, thrust out my hand, and gestured for him to take the object balled up in my fist.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Just take it,” I huffed. “After all, if I wanted to harm you I would have just left you to your own devices, remember?”
The young ram-lord sighed as he took the talisman from me and held it up so he could examine it. Then his gaze landed on the seal embossed on the face, and he stilled.
“How… do you have this?” he breathed.
“All I can tell you is you will give it to me sometime in the future,” I said. “But I’m as new to this as you are, so I’m potentially taking a risk showing you now.”
“I give this to you?” he asked in awe, and I didn’t know if his slack-jawed expression was good or not.
“Hopefully, you do, yeah,” I said pointedly and glanced at the dagger on the other man’s waist.
My meaning was clear, and Gavlain’s face suddenly looked like a watercolor that got tipped on its side before it was done drying.
“I-- oh…” He faltered, and I was struck by how odd it was to see this Lord Mec appearing so unsure of himself.
“Can… I have that back?” I ventured in a voice like I was trying not to spook a jumpy horse. “It’s just, I don’t think you are allowed to leave with anything you didn’t come with. At least, that’s what I would assume when it comes to the whole-- time continuum.”
“Right.” Young Gav snorted and shook his head, and with one last look at the signet ring, he handed it over and watched as I slipped it back on my finger.
Having it back in place settled me somehow, and I released a sigh I didn’t know I was holding.
“Well…” I said awkwardly as I tapped my fist against my thigh. “There you have it. Still want to off yourself?”
“I…” he trailed off again, and good Goddess, for a Lord he really needed to step up his confidence game. “No?”
