The duelist 2, p.3
The Duelist 2, page 3
“Oho, very strategic of you!” The scaled man pounded a fist down on the table in enthusiasm. “Smart lad not to give away your hand. One of the first rules of engagement is to never assume anyone is your ally.”
“I would prefer talk of strategy be left out of my leisure time, Sskern,” Mec said with a smirk, but one of his ears seemed to twitch in irritation through the loop of his impressive ram’s horn. “Don’t make me sic my loveliest concubine on you just to loosen you up, you old snake.”
“There is nothing wrong with vigilance, my old friend,” Sskern boomed jovially as he clapped the shaggy-haired lord on the shoulder. Then he looked at me and winked one of his reptilian eyes. “One must be prepared to strike when the opportunity presents itself. We Ashers must always be ready to fight for the glory of Mercedes.”
A trumpet noise sounded, and a bevy of servants poured in carrying domed trays that instantly filled the hall with the smells of roasted meat and spices.
My stomach groaned so loudly Asher Mec glanced in my direction and gave me a knowing smile.
“I remember the first time I rode with Prosper,” he said and offered his wine goblet up to be filled with verna berry wine. “He is a powerhouse and a faithful steed, but the mental connection required to communicate with him takes a lot. I trust the baths restored you, Asher?”
“Alex, please,” I said as I hurried to swallow a bite of some sort of saucy beef-like dish that tasted amazingly savory and sweet at the same time. Then I cleared my throat by taking a quick sip of the Fireball Fruity Pebble wine I was growing more accustomed to. “And the baths were wonderful, thank you, Lord Mec.”
“Enough of that ‘Lord Mec’ business, Gavlain is what my friends use,” he said as another large smile stretched across his brown-bearded face. “I confess, the whispers around my humble island have been most disturbing, and if the rumors are true, then you did me another favor, Alex.”
“Are you talking about the rumors in Gatetown, darling?” the ram-lord’s wife chirped in her song-bird voice. Her dark eyes were wide, and she clutched her pale-green hands against her ample bosom in worry.
“Don’t distress yourself, Breeta, my sweet,” Mec said and took her hands so he could sweetly kiss her knuckles.
“But it was distressing! To hear that anyone would plot to assassinate you, let alone one of your trusted friends!” Mec’s parakeet-wife then turned and addressed the owl-like man hunched next to her. “Have you heard much of these rumors, Asher Vane?”
“Aye, I’ve heard many talkers in my noble Gatetown,” the man named Vane said as he ripped some juicy meat off a thick bone, and then he sucked it into his mouth with a gross noise before he pointed a greasy finger at my crimson-haired wife. “What say you, Lady Shale-Lea? Surely you must have heard your deceased husband wanted to try to assassinate our gracious Lord Mec?”
I glanced at the poised phoenix-woman on my left as she set down her fork and dabbed her lips with a cloth napkin.
“I’m afraid Bala never really kept me apprised of his dealings, Asher Vane, but if your lordship has heard it, then it must be true.” She shook out the long fall of her feathered scarlet crest, and the beauty of it pooling around her as she sat up straight on her cushion like the regal diplomat she was mesmerized me, as well as the rest of the table.
“But I heard some of the other riders who were witness to the Duel between Asher Brightwood and Bala Ren swear they smelled the scent of a poison infusion when his blade broke,” Mec’s wife pressed as she brushed at her verdant cheeks in what seemed to be an anxious habit.
I darted a glance at Zoie at this, and she slipped her hand over my wrist.
The truth was, Zoie and I were in the same tavern eavesdropping on Ren during his illicit exchange with the shady patron. The golden eagle-man paid a hefty sum so he could infuse his blade with a lethal poison. Then, when he planned to challenge Lord Mec in a Duel, he had a little insurance in his back pocket.
Fucking cheat.
Even though I could confirm the truth of these rumors, announcing to the table that I had a bigger and more involved part in the events leading up to the conclusion of the race was probably one of those things I should keep close to my chest for now.
“It’s true,” the final person at our table chipped in, and his long jack-rabbit ears twitched on the top of his brown head as the whole table turned to acknowledge him. “Because I was last season’s Champion, I was standing close by when Brightwood shattered Ren’s blade. It smelled like the putrid oils commonly harvested from a thorn blossom.”
“See, Gavlain!” the ram-lord’s wife gasped. “Asher Redburn has confirmed it!”
“Well, whatever the case, he is gone thanks to our Champion, Alex Brightwood!” Mec said and raised his goblet to the room.
“Brightwood!” the room echoed, and I glanced around with a slightly uncomfortable smile as everyone toasted me.
When everyone returned to the sumptuous feast, the owl-man across from me skewered a thin sardine-looking fish dripping in butter and herbs as he pinned me with his bulbous yellow eyes.
“Then what say you, Brightwood?” Vane asked and arched his feathered eyebrows. “As I hear it, you haven’t been with us for long. Already so displeased with your third-rank status that you felt the need to dispatch Ren and gain a fourth?”
I narrowed my gaze at the hunched owl-man. There was something creepy about him, especially the way he fixed his unblinking eyes on me as if he was trying his hardest not to look elsewhere.
However, when I stared back, I noticed the slightest break in his black-hole gaze, and I saw how the yellow orbs flickered to my left and over to Shay.
It gave me a hunch.
“Truth be told, it wasn’t Ren’s Duelist status I was interested in.” I reached my hand toward Shay and pulled her over so she could sit on my lap.
Vane’s eyebrows twitched downward into a faint scowl, and I figured my hunch was correct. At first, I thought it was just the man’s large owl eyes, but this confirmed he’d been particularly observant of my wife since we took our seats, and I wasn’t just picking up on nothing.
It wasn’t completely unusual that she would turn heads wherever she went because Shale-Lea was stunning with her flaming hair, hourglass figure, and the ability to sing and dance like an angel. It was probably common knowledge all over the island how beautiful she was, and she probably had all kinds of harmless admirers.
Still. I was going to keep my eye on the owl-man from now on.
“Well-played,” Vane grunted as he nodded at me in respect and then slurped up his buttery sardine.
I gave him a curt nod in return but then forgot about the weird tension when Shay offered a lush berry up to my lips.
“Try this, dear heart,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t mind old Gella Vane and his meddling.”
“I think he wants you for himself,” I muttered, but I opened my mouth anyway and let the tangy juice of the berry burst over my tongue.
“Well, if he does, he’ll just have to get by both of us,” Zoie said with a small smirk she hid behind her wine goblet.
I smiled at her and then let Shay feed me more bits of fruit, cheese, and spiced meat.
Then a small gong sounded, and the lights dimmed as a hush swept over the gathered guests.
“What’s going on?” I whispered, and Zoie leaned closer so she could explain in a lowered voice as a string of people in elaborate costumes took to the center of the performance space.
“I’ve only heard of this, but it is the retelling of Icar and how he lit the beacons that started the Duelist Uprisings,” the cat-woman said with her ears perked forward in interest.
The performers immediately launched into some type of play/opera I could scarcely follow because there were at least four voices sing-talking at all times.
A stage battle soon erupted in a frenzy of activity, complete with red silk scarves thrown around to represent bloodshed every time an actor was slashed with a wooden sword.
Eight lanterns lowered from the tented ceiling, and the main character in the most elaborate costume suddenly jumped on the back of another actor dressed as a canterfly with red flapping silk wings.
The actor on “horseback” then pulled out a glowing stone baton thing, and every time he passed a lantern, he would strike the side, and a shower of sparks would fountain out of the top.
Finally, there was one more battle between the main guy and some evil dude in a spiky crown.
They fought and clashed, and the red scarves were tossed around in large swaths as the lanterns turned a blood red to match.
It was thrilling, and my heart was pounding in my throat, and after it was all over, and everyone on stage was basically dead, I realized I had both of my wives in my lap, and we were all clutching each other close.
“Woah,” I breathed as the banquet hall erupted in applause, and I grinned as I added my enthusiastic clapping to the din.
“Wasn’t it amazing?” Zoie asked as she clapped just as hard.
I smiled at her endearing expression of wonder, and Shay and I exchanged fond glances.
It was nice having Shay as a part of our dynamic, and I realized it was because there was someone there who could share in these little moments that caused me to fall in love with Zoie in the first place.
As if the gorgeous phoenix-woman could read my mind, she reached across and brushed Zoie’s dark hair in the way close girlfriends did with each other.
“Did you enjoy the show, darling?” Shay asked the cat-woman as she squeezed her companion’s hand.
“It was marvelous,” Zoie said honestly while the lights restored to their normal brightness and conversation resumed around the hall. “Do you get to see this every season?”
“Yes, Bala and I were frequent guests of Lord Mec’s wondrous Champion Gala,” Shay said and tipped her head in the ram-lord’s direction. “I confess it has always been one of my favorite events to attend.”
“You are most kind, Shale-Lea,” Mec said with an equally gracious bow of his shaggy head.
“You must have gone to all sorts of royal events,” Zoie said to Shay.
“As will you, my lovely,” the phoenix-woman assured the cat-woman with a musical tone to her sweet voice. “You are the first wife of a noble fourth-ranked Duelist. Blue Night is one thing, but these are the circles of the elite, and your presence will be expected in many more social gatherings.”
“I… oh,” the cat-woman said with a faint blush as her ears flattened against her head.
“I think you’ll have to teach us both a little about mingling with high society, Shay,” I said as I rubbed my hand up Zoie’s arm in case she was feeling self-conscious, and I was gratified when her velvety ears slowly perked up again.
Another gong sounded, and the servants poured back in and cleared away the remains of the feast.
“My wonderful guests!” Gavlain Mec said as he stood from the table. “Now let us give our Champion a proper send-off!”
“Champion! Champion! Champion!” the crowd around the banquet hall chanted as one, and I was urged to my feet as everyone stood from their seats.
“What’s going on?” I asked over the roar as Shay led all three of us to the center where that jack-rabbit-man was standing.
“Asher Redburn must pass the Icarian torch over to you,” Shay said as we passed all the people clapping and cheering. “Then, next season, you will do the same for the next Champion.”
“Alright,” I said and accepted my place in the center of the ballroom.
The tall hare-like man grinned and handed me a stone baton similar to the one the actor used in the performance. However, this one was larger like a scepter and had intricate carvings all around it which I couldn’t make heads or tails of.
“Our Icarian Champion!” The Asher Lord boomed out a laugh and raised his hands as those gathered gave another round of applause.
Then the crowd began to disperse, and an occasional Duelist would come up and congratulate me. I wanted to leave as well just so I wasn’t the center of attention anymore, but Shay’s subtle cues kept me from skulking off until everyone was mostly gone.
Even though I said it to give Zoie some confidence, I was honest about needing lessons or something for all these ceremonies I seemed to take part in.
“Congratulations, Brightwood,” the rabbit-man said as we shook forearms. “Hopefully, we will race together as competitors in the future.”
“I’d like that, Redburn,” I replied, and I meant it. He seemed like a good dude, and I was definitely interested in racing again as long as it was a fair competition.
“I hope the feast met your approval, Alex, my friend?” the ram-lord asked as the rest of the guests trickled out.
“It was amazing,” I said with enthusiasm, and then suddenly a jaw cracking yawn exploded out of me. “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”
“Hah!” Mec clapped one of his massive hands down on my shoulder. “I know you must be exhausted, but I wonder if I can trouble you for just a moment longer.”
“Um, sure,” I said.
“Please, let my Breeta escort your beautiful wives to the luxurious Champion Suite,” he said and gestured for his green-feathered wife to come closer. “I promise I will not delay you long.”
“Come, my ladies,” Breeta said with a radiant smile.
Then Zoie and Shay each squeezed my hand and kissed me on the cheek, and I sighed as I watched them float away.
“Such gorgeous creatures, aren’t they?” the ram-lord rumbled as he crossed his arms over his barrel chest.
“I honestly don’t know whether they will make me, or break me, one day,” I chuckled as I tucked the ceremonial torch into the back of my belt. “So, what’s on your mind, Gavlain?”
“Walk with me, fellow Duelist,” he said and gestured to the back of the ballroom where a mural-sized tapestry hung.
I followed the ram-lord as he brushed aside the tapestry and opened up a secret passage that revealed a staircase similar to the underground weapons cache in the manor house.
Just like the dark corridor at my estate, glowing stone sconces lit up at the same time as the Duelist Stones around both our necks.
“Where does this lead?” I asked as I followed the ram-lord down the winding stairs.
“This leads all throughout the palace, but if you are asking where I am taking you, then the answer is: the dungeons,” he said, and his low voice vibrated against the stark stone walls in a slightly ominous way.
“Umm… why?” I rubbed the back of my neck with one hand.
“Do not be alarmed, Alex, I have no nefarious intentions despite the spooky hidden stairs we are descending,” the big man said in an odd giddy voice as if we were spelunking in unexplored caves instead of traversing his own palace walls.
“Did you just call what we are doing, ‘spooky?’” I snorted.
“Spooky is the word my young Meera is most fond of these days.” The formidable Asher Lord smiled tenderly when he brought up the subject of his small doe-like daughter.
“How is she?” I asked as we turned down another twisting staircase.
“She asks of you often,” Mec huffed, “and was quite inconsolable when I had to explain to her how she couldn’t attend the feast and see her future husband.”
“Husband?” I laughed.
“She is convinced she will marry you one day, her savior from the monsters,” he said and shook his horned head.
“She sounds like she has a lot of opinions,” I said as I finally stepped off the last step.
“That she does!” he thundered and then threw back his head and laughed. “Just you wait. It won’t be long before that will be your future. Now, come. There is something I want your opinion on.”
I nodded and let the ram-lord lead me through the dimly lit dungeons and into a cramped cell bracketed by two palace guards who saluted us before we went in.
It was dark inside the musty cell, and I strained my eyes so I could make sense of what I was seeing.
In the center of the small space was a dirty and battered figure who had his head and wrists locked in a wooden stockade/pillory device. Then he lifted his bloody face, and his long greasy hair swung to and fro.
“You have no right, Mec,” the man snarled in a voice that sounded like it had been dragged through rough gravel. He spat out a wad of blood on the dirt ground at our feet, and he scowled so fiercely, the jagged scar through his eyebrow bunched and twisted like a writhing worm.
Something about him seemed vaguely familiar…
“You will find in a moment how I have every right, you detestable mercenary scum,” Mec growled, and the jolly and easy-going image of the man from a few moments ago was suddenly replaced with the dark commanding visage of the true Asher Lord. The atmosphere became thick with the sheer power rolling off him in waves, and it felt as if the air was sucked right out of the room.
Then Mec’s eyes flashed over to mine. “Alex.”
“Yes?” I asked and took an uncertain step forward.
“Please, tell me where you know this man from,” he said in a deep voice that booked no argument.
I frowned but prevented myself from telling the ram-lord I had no idea what he was talking about. I could tell by the look on Mec’s face that answer was not going to fly, so I turned my attention back to the prisoner once more.
The man hunched over in the punishing pillory seemed familiar, but I was positive I’d never seen his face…
Or had I?
I almost gasped when I realized this was the man Ren met in that tavern when he purchased the poison for his blade. Of course, I’d never seen his face because he wore a mask the whole time I saw him, but the voice along with that distinctive scar confirmed his identity.
“You sold Ren the poison so he could infuse his blade, you piece of shit ,” I growled and clenched my fists.
“Tell me how you know this,” Mec said, and his expression darkened even further as he took a step toward the scarred man.
