by Lucas Rivera
The Ranger, the Cook, and the Gambler led their horses along the scant trail at a trot. They had been traveling all day, and any faster pace would surely cripple their mounts. The three horses were about as dissimilar as their riders. Tom’s bay, Shadow, was a sleek black thing with a deep chest that suggested it could run for hours without tiring if need be, and delicate, slender legs made for speed, not strength. Einar’s dun was quite a bit less impressive. It was a placid creature with a shabby brown coat and stocky legs, very much bred for bearing loads of hay and produce, not people. Despite its unkempt appearance it looked as though it could run just as far and as fast as Shadow, not through a large chest or long legs, but pure determination and stubbornness. Finally, Jolene’s stallion, Jet, was a pure white, noble color with a tapered body and strong legs. It looked as though it had speed to spare, but a very short time before it had to stop and rest. It also balked and tossed its head at every slight touch of the reigns, suggesting a short temper as well as a short running time. Perhaps the reason the horses were so mismatched is because they were reflections of their riders.
The Ranger rode slightly ahead of the other two, completely silent throughout the day, ignoring any conversation he could and responding with as few words as possible when he was asked a direct question he could not avoid. After a few of these attempts to include Tom in the conversation, Jolene and Einar glanced at one another with puzzled looks.
“Say Cook”, Jolene whispered to Einar after a while, “You’ve been traveling with this fellow a while longer than me. You got any idea what the hell’s buggin’ him so much?”
Einar looked at Tom’s back intently for a moment before responding slowly, “Not a clue”
“Maybe it has somethin’ to do with what happened last night”, Jolene mumbled, ”He wouldn’t say anything about it, but he was scared witless by something. He was pale as a ghost when I woke him.”
“Could be”, the old Cook said, “If it bothers you so much why not just ask him?”
Jolene snorted before responding brusquely, “I tried that last night, I ain’t trying to get snapped at again, you ask him.”
Einar scowled at her, ”Why? You’ve got a much better chance o’ getting something outta him than me!”
Jolene rounded on him with a dangerous look in her eye, “Oh? And why might that be old man?”
The Cook was an experienced campaigner, he had seen countless battles and won many of them. He understood that sometimes a hasty retreat was necessary when a position became indefensible. This was one of those times.
“Never mind", the man answered and glanced away.
Jolene had actually opened her mouth to demand an answer before being interrupted when the Ranger spoke for the first time in some minutes
“We’re here”, he said softly. And indeed they were, as the duo rode up to meet him at the top of the next ridge they saw a moderately sized town that housed no more than a thousand people. It was surrounded on three sides by farmland and fields, with a river along the fourth side. A small but sturdy bridge made of stone provided access over the river into the town. Even from their current position over a mile away from the settlement, it was clear the place was prosperous. The roofs were made of tile and shingles rather than thatch which would be expected from a farming town of this size. The roads were paved and swept clean, and there was even a small fountain in the center of the town. The townspeople were out in droves, clogging the streets. Husbands walking back home to grab a quick bite to eat before returning to the fields, wives running to the store to pick up everyday necessities, drivers navigating carts from one side of town to the other, children splashing in puddles and chasing each other.
“Well I have to admit”, the Ranger said slowly after surveying the town, “you pick a good spot to resupply Jolene”
The Gambler rolled her eyes, “Of course I do, I know my way around these parts”
Tom fixed a curious eye on her, “How long you been wandering around out here then?”
Looking down to adjust a strap on her saddle that certainly needed no adjustments she took a moment to respond, “A while, drifting from here to there”
Sensing her discomfort Einar drummed his heels into his mount and rode ahead at a gallop, calling over his shoulder, ”Well that town ain't getting any closer and I want a tankard of ale!”
Jolene and Tom shared a surprised look before urging their own horses after the cook. As they approached the bridge that would lead into town a lone figure came into view. The person became clearer as the trio got closer, but the more they saw the more confused they became. Stopping just short of the beginning of the bridge the group studied the puzzling sight before them.
A foreign man stood tall and straight, every muscle in his body still, his eyes cold as ice. He wore a curious wide-brimmed hat that became pointed at the top and appeared to be made of some kind of plant material, and a robe of silk that fluttered in the light breeze. His face was an almond color and his eyes were tilted in a strange way that Einar had never seen before. His hair began graying at the sides before giving way to darker hues, and he wore a short, tidy beard, which was also salt and pepper colored. The way he stood, so still, so steady, yet he had a look of fluidity about him. Einar thoughtfully stroked his beard. The swordsman's appearance might be completely alien to the old cook, but the way he held himself was not. This man was a warrior. And a flaming good one too.
Closer and closer the party came and as soon as they arrived at the far end of the bridge the swordsman spoke in a strange, song-like accent.
"Come no further", the man did not shout, but his voice carried the authority of a man familiar with combat, "please turn back and find another place to stay the night, I will have no bandits in this town tonight".
The young Ranger gritted his teeth and dropped down from his Shadow, "What in blazes are you talking about? I ain't no bandit! Besides, there's nowhere else to go!".
"You must make do with the hills then, this village is under the protection of Kenshi Sato, last of the Emperor's Swords, and I cannot take the chance you lie. Bandits have been... excitable recently" The man's posture did not change a hair, but as soon as Tom's boots hit the ground the air around Kenshi turned electric, as if he was just on the verge of moving, "to allow any violence or hardship to befall the people of this village would bring me much shame, more so than I have incurred already".
Tom shook his head in annoyance, "I ain't no bandit, I just want food and a place to rest my head! Now get outta the way old timer".
Hoping to defuse the situation Einar hastily added, "We mean no harm to the people of this village, and there are only three of us, surely not enough to cause any trouble."
The robed warrior didn't move a muscle, but his eyes seemed to grow even harder. The bridge fell into a tense hush, almost as if the wind itself was holding its breath. Finally, Tom huffed in exasperation and took another step forward. A rustle came from the figure's robes as he threw aside his garments just enough to reveal a long, slightly curved sword covered in a beautifully engraved sheath worked with silver and what looked to be some kind of green stone, polished till glistening.
"You don't want to do that", Tom warned as he threw his own cloak to the side and laid a hand on his slinger.
Kenshi smoothly pushed his sword part of the way out of its sheath and calmly replied, "I assure you, young man, it is you who should reconsider".
Einar began to shift restlessly, something wasn't right. An old memory was tugging at him, something about that sheath and sword felt eerily familiar. Before he could gain a tight hold on the information it slipped away, deep into the recesses of his mind. That seemed to happen a lot in recent years. Still, something was amiss, any swordsman would realize they were outmatched by a slinger, and there was no way to win. So why wasn't this strange foreigner backing down?
Before Einar could think any further Tom fully drew his slinger and clicked the hammer back.
"I'm gonna warn you one more time, I'm hungry and I need rest, and this here's the only place I'll be able to do those things. I don't like killin' but I'll do it for survival, now move or die".
Kenshi's only response was the flat stare he gave to the bare slinger. Then... well then Cook wasn't sure just what happened. Tom fired, of that he was sure, he heard the crack of the slinger and even saw the spell erupt from the barrel, an Earth spell by the look of it. But before the spell reached the swordsman he quickly drew the rest of his blade from the sheath and flowed like a river forward towards the spell. He struck the Earth spell as it flew at him at speeds few men could even see, let alone react to, and his blade went through the spell. He cut right through the spell, his blade killing it as surely as it would've a person. Then he calmly sheathed his blade and stood straight once again.
"What... what in the seven hells was that?", the Ranger sputtered, already chambering another spell, though what he would do with it Cook had no idea.
"I've heard of this", yes the memory was clear now as Einar stepped forward,"You're a Spell Breaker aren't you?"
His strange clothing and jade embroidery in his sheath marked him as one, though Einar had only ever heard of his kind in stories told around a campfire late at night. Men from the far East who handled weapons like other men breathed, and sported a strange green stone on their sheathes to show their authority. Well, this story was coming to life right in front of him, sword and all.
Kenshi bowed his head slightly, "I, well I used to be, but no longer. I am surprised someone so far from home knows of the Spell Breakers".
Einar passed Tom and whispered to him, "You can't help here I'm afraid lad, let me handle this".
To his credit, the Ranger only hesitated a moment before stepping back, though his face was darker than a thundercloud. Sooner or later he'd have to ask the man what bothered him so. Or convince that blasted woman to do it for him.
"I've traveled far", the grizzled cook said to the figure as he approached him, "I've fought in many battles, and won most. And I'm very glad I never had to fight any of your kind if the stories are to be believed". Slowly Einar pulled his axe out of his belt and held it aloft in front of him.
The weathered Blademaster closed his eyes for a moment as if remembering something from long ago, before opening them and stepping towards Einar. He carefully drew his own blade and shed his robe, "We were a formidable force, the pride of the Emperor. Perhaps you will be a worthy challenge, you dress like a foreigner but you flow like an Emperor's Sword".
Einar grinned, though it looked more like a wolf baring its teeth in challenge, "I get by". And with that, the two men met in the middle of the bridge and began to dance.
There was no other word to describe it. They stepped fast as lightning, yet smooth as a stream. They swung as hard as oxen yet their movements were as light as a feather. Their blades held each other like lovers, twirling around each other in bold movements. They held each other's eyes as intently as a master weaponsmith, inspecting the other man's iris as the smith would his steel during his work. No this was not a dance of pleasure or joy, but it was a dance nonetheless, full of all the grace, power, and intimacy that went along with it.
They struggled back and forth across the bridge, at one point Einar forced Kenshi to give ground, each step fought and earned slowly until he was almost back to the far side of the bridge. Then in a daring display of dexterity, the Spell Breaker ducked under the oncoming battle-axe, jumped onto the narrow railing of the bridge, and continued the fight from there, using his strange sword's increased reach to his advantage. Taken completely by surprise it was now the Cook who was forced to give ground. That is until Einar kicked one of the stones loose from the bridge right out from under Kenshi's feet leaving him struggling for balance. The lithe swordsman quickly recovered, throwing a wild slash at the Cook's face while dropping back down to the bridge and continuing the fight.
On the dance lasted for minutes, with neither man truly gaining an advantage for more than a moment. Finally, Cook decided it was time this fight was ended one way or another. To prolong it any longer would mean risking exhaustion and he wasn't sure if he or Kenshi would tire first. Einar drew his knife and threw it underhanded at the swordsman. Caught by surprise Kenshi narrowly parried the knife and stumbled backwards a hair. But a hair was all the grizzled axe man needed, closing the gap in less than a moment, swinging his axe at Kenshi's neck. Then he stopped, sweat streaming down his face, panting slightly, with his blade held against the Spell Breaker's neck.
Kenshi, similarly exhausted, raised an eyebrow to the wild Northernman, "Why did you stop?"
Einar grinned widely, "Because you did".
The cook still felt the slight prickling of the blademaster's sword pressed lightly against his lower torso. They stood there, for a few more moments, both holding a killing blow against each other, both drained now that the dance had come to an end. Kenshi was the first to move, slowly taking his blade from Cook's stomach and sheathing it.
"It would appear I was wrong about you and your group", he turned to Tom and bowed deeply, "I apologize for my caution, I only wished to protect the people of this town".
The Ranger seemed taken aback and awkwardly tipped his hat to the Spell Breaker,
"That's quite all right, perhaps I was a bit hasty there as well".
Joline shot Tom a look with an upraised eyebrow, "A bit? Nearly put a flamin' Earth spell in his hide!"
Tom blushed deeply, "I apologized, didn't I? Burn me woman I'm on edge!"
Einar slipped his axe back into his belt and threw his head back to roar with laughter, "Well, all's well that end well yes?", he turned to Kenshi and patted his back roughly, "You're fun, and more than a bit slippery!"
The Spell Breaker stumbled slightly before dryly commenting, "Yes, you were an excellent opponent, truly. But you've proven not to be a threat, so feel free to enter the town. I'm sure you'll find many inns and taverns to stay at, this is a prosperous town".
The group gave their farewells and quickly led their horses across the bridge and into the settlement. Just before they turned the corner onto the main street of the town Einar turned to look back at the Swordsman and saw that the man had already resumed his position at the foot of the bridge, staring out into the wilderness, waiting for the next challenger. A most interesting warrior indeed.
"What a strange old man", Joline commented as they looked for a comfortable inn, "How in blazes did he end up way out here?"
"The frontiers have a way of attracting people that the outside world is done with" Einar responded, "Or people who are done with the outside world"
After a short pause, Tom muttered, "I wonder which one he is."
For a long while no one spoke until they came across a two-story building with a faded sign that read George and Vulture with an insignia of one of the ugly birds. It leaned over the street in such a way it appeared the building itself was drunk, but all of its windows were clean and the paint seemed fresh. The trio entered the building and booked two rooms for the night.
"We can resupply tomorrow", Tom said to Einar, "tonight I just want rest"
The old man raised an eyebrow at the Ranger and cautiously said, "Don't feel like yourself?"
Tom shot him a dangerous look and said, "Somethin' like that, we'll talk about supplies in the mornin' alright?"
The old man held his arms up in surrender and muttered, "Right, right."
Joline began slowly heading up the stairs before Einar called after her, "Will we see you down here tomorrow?"
She turned back, thought for a moment, and for some reason glanced at Tom before responding, "Maybe... but I wouldn't count on it".
And with that, she turned and quickly headed up the stairs. After she disappeared around the corner the two men heard the slam of a door followed by silence. The cook and the ranger exchanged looks and shrugged before Tom spoke, "I'll just head straight up, stay and have a drink if you'd like, just don't wake me".
And now the trio turned duo had shrunk to a solo. Einar turned to the somewhat grimy bar and sat on a rickety stool. He grabbed the attention of the bartender with a short whistle and asked for an ale. Tilting his head back he drank the whole tankard in one long series of gulps. Grimacing at the taste of cheap produce, God forbid any tavern spring for the good stuff, Cook wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pounded the bar for another. This one he sipped at, his initial thirst slaked.
Before long a man sat next to Einar at the bar and politely ordered a glass of whiskey. Without even turning the grizzled warrior knew who it was. He had half expected the man to come.
"You know, I have been a Sword for many many years", Kenshi said quietly, "and I have never hesitated to kill. Never".
Einar raised his eyebrows and took a deep draft from his cup, "Well I'm honored to be the first."
Kenshi grunted and said nothing, taking a deep swig from his own glass, grimacing as he did so, "I don't understand how you people in the West drink this vile stuff. Tea is much more calming", He put down his glass and looked at Cook thoughtfully, "Truth be told you intrigue me. An old man who fights like a demon traveling with a Ranger with fire in his eyes and a woman who holds a dangerous and rare spell slinger and looks as though she's quite capable with it. Where are you traveling?"
Taking a deep swig from his tankard Cook tried to buy himself time to think. How much to reveal? This man could be extremely useful but what if he wasn't to be trusted? Perhaps the man would help, he seemed the noble and honorable type. But then again maybe he would be greedy for the power that resided in the artifact Einar carried around his neck. These thoughts swirled around his head until, suddenly, he thought back to the bridge. The slight pinch of the man's blade at his abdomen and the feel of the Spell Breaker's neck within his reach. Neither man had struck the other down. Did that mean something? Einar wasn't normally the superstitious type but... well truth be told he'd never hesitated that way during a fight either. Why had he with this man?
Slowly Cook put the tankard down and looked at Kenshi, "Are you sure you want that answer? There'll be no going back once I tell you".
The man narrowed his eyes for a moment before nodding curtly.
"Very well", looking around quickly Einar leaned forward and whispered in the man's ear, "I go to the Eye of the Storm, and I mean to replace the Heart."
Kenshi's eyes widened momentarily before his face resumed its normal stone-like expression, "Impossible", the man breathed.
Again Einar looked around carefully before quickly pulling his shirt down and revealing the artifact to Kenshi, a small medallion with peculiar markings on it of ancient runes no one alive could read, "Now do you believe?"
Kenshi seemed at a loss for words for a moment before nodding slowly, "I... yes I do, as improbable as it may seem".
"So will you help me? God above knows I need it".
For a few long moments, the Spell Breaker sat back in his stool and said nothing before he quickly got up, "I will pack my belongings tonight, I suggest you do the same. Tomorrow we gather supplies then we leave as quickly as possible, we've a very long way to go".
Einar got up too and nodded curtly, "Agreed, we haven't a moment to waste".
The Cook extended his hand to the Blademaster and they shook hands before leaving to make their own preparations for the next day. Though the Gambler and the Ranger had no idea, the fate of the world could very well rest on the shoulders of their group.
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