The Living Sword (6 page)

“What are you looking at?” Dak wondered.

“That statue, I was wondering which story it is from.”

“Story?”

“Yes, like that one,” he indicated a sculpture ready to throw a spear. “The slayer of the boar of Illysia, Tithos. And next to him, the dragonslayer Sinean. They're all statues of heroes from Nesan legend, but I don't recognize this one.”

“It's Vulpos,” Misthell supplied. “He's about to plunge the dagger into his leg to make his trail more alluring for Suran's hounds so that they'll stop chasing his friends and go after him. When the god caught up with him, Vulpos boasted how he outsmarted the god of hunters once again and that his horn was long gone. As punishment, Suran turned Vulpos into a fox so that he would have to outsmart hunters for the rest of his life.”

Angling his head Eurik said, “I didn't know you were an expert on Nesan legends.”

“I didn't either! But you mentioned those others and suddenly, I knew every statue and I could recite their stories.”

“Why would a sword need to know that,” Dak wondered.

“I... don't know,” Misthell admitted. “It's important, I know that much. It's part of my … my purpose. But I can't tell how,” he said in a huff.

“It might be related to whatever ability you have. Living swords are supposed to possess them,” Eurik guessed.

“Maybe. Or maybe my creators were obsessed with stories.”

“That would be something.” He looked up at Vulpos again and noticed that the cloak was actually the skin of a fox. Eurik stared at it for a few moments longer before he let himself be led away by a now impatient Dak. 'Was that why they were traveling?' he mused to himself.

***

Dak led them back into the warren of tall apartment buildings ringing the harbor. They left the paved streets behind and entered the muddy alleys squeezed in between the buildings. His nose told him it wasn't only mud he was about to walk through.

Eurik didn't miss a beat and sent his awareness out; he packed dirt together, squeezing out the water, and formed a narrow path of dry earth for himself. 'Have to be careful with these boots. I don't have spares.'

Even though there was less room here, that didn't slow down the people around him. Eurik bumped into more than one person. Hands brushed against his sash, but he easily moved his money out of the way of those questing fingers. 'Thank you for the warning, Barsoc.'

Dak ducked into one of the small eateries nestled on the ground floor of the buildings. Looking up, Eurik saw that someone had painted the word “Simios” above the wide entrance next to a drawing of a dancing cow.

“And we're here,” his guide announced. “They got the best burgers in the lowers here.”

“Since you're familiar with this place, why don't you order,” Eurik said as they took their seats at the counter. “But nothing strong to drink, please. We rarely drink on the island.”

Dak frowned. “If you don't drink, how do you survive? A man can't live long without drinking.”

“Ah, we do drink. But it is mostly water, not wine or beer.”

It earned him another disbelieving stare. Eurik knew water was used for many things in Linese, but not to quench your thirst. Before Dak could comment, however, the man behind the counter turned his attention to them having finished helping another customer. “What will it be?”

“Two burgers and two cups of light beer,” Dak ordered.

“That'll be sixteen coppers.”

Eurik fished the quarter of a coin and a few copper coins out of his pocket and put them down. The man glanced between them, then he simply picked up the money, though he gave the silver a good look before they all vanished behind his leather apron. “It'll be done right quick.”

Eurik watched as the cook, his hair forming a silver fringe around his head, opened a chest next to the iron plate being heated by coals. Wisps of vapor curled around his arm as he reached in and pulled out two meat patties. “Cold stones are giving out,” he grumbled as he closed the lid again.

While the meat sizzled on the plate and their scent filled the air, their cook retrieved two objects from a rack and started cutting them in half. He'd seen enough examples by now to know that he wasn't looking at some sort of large mushroom, but bread.

“Where do you want to go after this?” Dak asked.

“I'm not really sure. I've read about the temples here; they don't have those on San,” Eurik mused.

“There's a temple to Aethel the Joyful nearby. The priestesses there are very pretty.”

“I don't, uhm, I am not looking to worship your gods.”

Dak shrugged and gave him a grin. “The priestesses don't care as long you pay. Supposed to be the act that's holy anyway.”

“I'm also not looking for companionship. Not today.”

“Huh, most people that been at sea can't wait, but hey, whatever floats your boat.” His guide narrowed his eyes. “You're from San?”

Eurik nodded.

“Then maybe you'll want to visit the Yellow Arena, they got one of those plant-people as a fighter. Been there for months now, went through most of the best so they started drawing in amateurs. Prize money's gone up to twenty suns now.”

“A san has been fighting for entertainment?”

“Been killing too, that's why they're dangling such a prize now. Last week there was this orc, supposed to be some big name, the san burned him to a crisp. Orc didn't even touch him.”

“We'll go to this Yellow Arena then,” Eurik said as their order was put in front of them. He barely paid attention to the novel taste and texture as his teeth sunk into his food. 'Could it be him? It's the only one that left the island recently, but why didn't Hoyashi say anything about this? And why would he fight to entertain humans?'

Chapter 4

A Chance Encounter

It was obvious why the round, towering structure was called the Yellow Arena. But this time, Eurik paid little attention to the architecture. A huge banner obscured much of this side anyway, featuring a man wielding a sword and shield leaping at a fire breathing san. The writing underneath promised a spectacle and twenty gold pieces for whoever could best their champion. But frustratingly lacked the name of the san in question.

Eurik made his way inside and found a man sitting behind a wooden table and chewing on some sort of leaf. “Name?”

“Uhm, Eurik?”

He jotted it down on a piece of paper talking as he did so. “Fights starts in an hour, you got the third spot. Weapons are allowed. We are not responsible for any injury or death that might occur during—”

“I'm not here to fight. I'm here to talk to one of your fighters. The san,” he clarified.

That got the puffy man to look up. “What?”

“I—We grew up on the same island,” Eurik decided to settle for.

“Right.” He didn't sound like he believed Eurik. “Well, I can't help you. Chi isn't the hospitable type and he doesn't want to be disturbed. Last guy that did...” the man shivered. His eyes strayed over Eurik's shoulder, then swiftly settled on Eurik again. “Tell you what,” he said slowly. “If you really want to talk to him, fight him. No risk if you two really know each other, and it might net you a nice bit of money.”

“It's a little public.”

The man resumed chewing and shrugged. “Best I can do, uhm, Eurik.”

Eurik considered his options for a moment. “Then I suppose it will have to do,” he sighed.

“Right. Let me show you the locker room. You can wait there, get something to drink. That way you don't miss your chance. Now, where was I?” he mused as he got up and led them deeper into the building. “Ah yes, management is not responsible for any injury...”

***

“That one didn't last much longer,” Leraine observed as the robed man started to trash on the arena floor. His right arm lay about a feet from the rest of his body, still clutching his staff. His opponent simply stood a ways away, his arms folded, looking on. There was no sense of victory from the green humanoid. He seemed to have expected no other outcome.

“Hmmm, but at least we get to see a san in action. There aren't a lot of people who can say that,” Irelith observed, before plucking another raisin from her paper bag.

“I am not here for san,” Leraine shot back at her teacher. Below them, men emerged from behind the wooden screens ringing the arena floor. Most went for the downed wizard and started dragging him away, one carrying his arm. She wondered if they were going to take him to see one of those Linesan priests. They were supposed to be capable of some amazing feats.

“No, you're supposed to be here looking for a suitable man. Most girls stay in our own lands for that instead of traveling across the entire continent to find one. And it doesn't take them a year,” she observed.

“You went along when I proposed trying Linese,” the younger woman objected as she looked away. Her
draen
whipped around as she did so. Just in time to meet the disapproving eyes of some Linesan, no doubt because he didn't understand a word of what they were saying. She gave him a grin and he quickly looked away.

“Of course I did. Never seen half the lands you took us through. But you aren't here to see more of the world, you have a duty.”

“I'm not going to settle for adequate. I'm looking for a man that has the right mix of qualities.”

“And I'm telling you not to be so picky. Just pick some comely lad, the rest takes care of itself. Unless you're looking for a husband, Fangling.” The left corner of Irelith's mouth rose up in a half-grin, a twinkle danced in her half-lidded eyes.

“As if, I'm simply more discerning than you because more is expected of me.”

“And you expect even more from yourself,” her teacher countered as the next challenger stepped onto the field.

His clothes were strange, but his appearance wasn't. It was clear he was Mochedan. Leraine watched as he stopped at the screens and put his sword down, before sitting down so he could get his boots off. He left both his boots and his sword there, just outside the magical shield that protected the audience, while he went in barefooted.

“Is he an outcast?” Leraine wondered.

“Might be, though even an outcast should know better than to go up against a san without his sword or his boots. And then there are his clothes.”

“What about them?”

“Their design is similar to that of the san. Look, there are differences, but not many. I wonder...”

But Irelith the Viper said nothing more on her suspicions.

***

Standing several paces away, Eurik bowed towards the San he was now sure was Chizuho. The noise coming from the hundreds of people watching was thankfully muffled because of the shield, so they'd be able to hear each other well. “Greetings, I am—”

“Zasashi's pet,” Chizuho interrupted him. “Kicked off the island at last.”

That stung. Eurik had to bite down on an angry reply. “He is my
sesin
,” he confirmed instead. “I was not aware you knew of me.”

“Because I was already in prison for thirty years by the time you washed up on our shores,” the san supplied.

“And because you left so quickly after your sentence ended,” Eurik added. He'd been the only one of the group that had made that choice. The only one who'd still defended burning down an orc village as retaliation for the attack on the
Ichiru
. It had been quite the scandal in what was usually a very ordered community.

The referee, forgotten by both, now spoke up. “Ahem, gentle beings, perhaps you could continue this after the fight. The audience is growing restless.”

“Like I care. Still, I do want to get this started so do your ritual and leave,” Chizuho ordered.

The referee clapped his hands together. “Ariod, bless these warriors who do you honor today. Accept our offering, and may the favored win.” Turning around, he scurried to safety. He only slowed down when he had to pass through the barrier.

It turned out there was no need to rush. Instead of starting the match, Chizuho went on talking. “Why did you come here?”

“I will not return home for some time, so this is my last time to spar with someone that knows the Ways.”

“I see. Unfortunately for you, there are people who want you dead. And I am happy to do the deed. I'd have done it for free,” he revealed with a san smile. “They should never have taught an outsider.” With those words Chizuho sprang forward and executed a quick palm-thrust.

The ground beneath them was solid stone covered in a thick layer of sand, filled with Earth
chiri
, and Eurik had been drawing from it since he entered the arena. He blocked the attack, but still felt it even with his reinforced body. His mind still reeling from the casual way his opponent had talked about killing him, Eurik could only continue to block as Chizuho rained down blows.

So when the san went for a leg sweep, it caught Eurik off-guard. Stumbling to the right, he didn't even notice Chizuro jumping up until his leg landed across Eurik's back. He fell to the ground. 'Come on, focus.'

Eurik swung his left arm out, pulling a pillar of rock along as he did so. The pillar hit Chizuro in the chest, sending him flying back.

***

“Magic?” Leraine wondered as she watched the stone sink back into the ground.

“I doubt it,” Irelith replied. “Can't be sure from all the way up here, but I don't think he said anything. He didn't waive a stick around or twiddle with his fingers either. It didn't look anything like what we saw that wizard do.”

The fight started back up again. The outcast, if he truly was one, had become the center of a small sandstorm. The sand built up on his arms and hands, forming a kind of armor around those limbs. Advancing, he swatted the fireballs the san was now firing at him out of the way.

“It looks more like how the san fights,” Irelith said. “They're manipulating the elements through movement alone.”

Down below, the two fighters had drawn close again and were trading blows. The san was fast, his fists wreathed in flames. The outcast blocked for the most part, but whenever he did launch a punch it sent the plant-man staggering.