The Foolhardies 99 Lord Of War

"There's no need for that," Ardeen Spellweaver said after he noticed my hand reach down to my sword hilt.

Reaching for my weapon was an unconscious action, but my body simply reacted to the pressure exuding out of this masked elf. It was like an uncomfortable heat grazed my skin—as if I'd walked too close to a roaring bonfire in the middle of summer.

Aura must have felt that same pressure as she'd maneuvered Starlight closer to Myth Chaser so that our legs were close enough to brush against each other.

"There's no need to be afraid either," Ardeen Spellweaver a.s.sured us. He raised both hands palms forward for emphasis. "I only seek discourse with you before this battle ends."

The self-a.s.sured way he sounded when he mentioned that the battle would end soon like he was so certain of it, rubbed me the wrong way. Sadly, the sound of shadowblades clas.h.i.+ng interrupted me before I could give a reb.u.t.tal.

Both Ardeen Spellweaver and I turned our heads back to the fight that had restarted.

I wasn't sure which of them broke the blade lock, but it seemed both great generals were eager to cut each other up again. Neither of them held back with each swing of their swords.

Great General Spellweaver leaped forward and swung his oversized falchion downward onto Darah's face. She parried with her golden sword.

Spellweaver swung sideward, almost reaching Darah's chest, but she blocked it with her sword, her free hand clutching onto the flat of her shadowblade to reinforce it.

With both hands on her sword, Darah pushed the weapon forward, forcing Spellweaver back a step. He, in turn, countered with a single-hand side slash that would have cut into Darah had she not dodged to the side.

Both fighters were now a slight distance apart from each other, both eyeing the other like rival wolves vying for dominance of the pack.

"Incredible, aren't they?" Ardeen Spellweaver said. "They're like calamities, the pair of them."

As we felt each blow after blow from their sword swings reverberate out to the surrounding crowd like invisible waves, I couldn't help but think his description of them was kind of accurate.

"Of course, I thought Azuma had the makings of a calamity himself…" Spellweaver's tone was contemplative, forcing me to glance sideways at him. He too was looking at me, smiling in that impish smile common to guys like Thom. "And yet I find you here alive despite the trap I set for you and the warrior I charged to kill you."

His smile seemed to grow even wider.

"You have surpa.s.sed my expectations, boy touched by fire," he said happily, as if he wasn't at all upset that I ruined his evil plan to get me and my friends killed.

"It wasn't easy," I admitted. "If the failure of your stupid Curse of the Morrigan didn't weaken Azuma so much, I might have been the one to die."

Spellweaver's smile wavered slightly. "So, he's dead then?"

"Yeah," I lied. Better he thought that I'd killed Azuma rather than figure out I could free him from Ardeen's clutches. "You sacrificed your knight and failed to capture my king."

Spellweaver's eyes searched me, and I did my best to look stoic.

"Well, it looks to me like your king's still in a bind," he replied to my chess reference with one of his own.

Another loud boom quickly followed by a sudden gush of force that whipped at my hair and made Myth Chaser shake beneath me.

I turned my eyes back on the fight and felt them go as wide as Oreos. "What in mud's sake…?"

Darah's golden sword was wrapped in flames. Opposite her, Spellweaver's own falchion was covered in a sheet of air that was like a tornado shaped like a blade. Only, it must have been twice the length of Spellweaver's already oversized falchion.

"Augmentare!" Luca yelled excitedly.

He was right, but not even Jimmy's flames radiated the same golden hue as Darah's sword did. Nor did I see Azuma wield a coating of water as dense as the wind wrapped around Spellweaver's falchion. If anything, the generals' elemental weapons had much more power poured into them.

"Shall we make a wager, boy touched by fire?" Ardeen Spellweaver's voice rang clear despite the clamor of the crowd. "My father or your master. Which of the two shall triumph?"

I couldn't respond. I couldn't even spare him a glance as I was worried I'd miss the clash if I did anything but pay attention. Something in my gut told me this was the deciding clash.

Both generals leaped forward. Darah sent her shadowblade in a sideward arc while Spellweaver swung his shadowblade downward. And in the seconds before their blades met, I asked Ardeen Spellweaver, "Your dad knows that air makes fire stronger, right?"

Just as I'd predicted, the meeting of Darah's flame sword and Spellweaver's air blade caused a reaction any high schooler could have warned them about. Fire plus air equaled combustion. It was basic science. Sure air only had around twenty-one percent oxygen in it but that would have been enough for a blaze to come to life.

The fiery explosion that spread out from the point of impact of their shadowblades might have blown any old visere or fairy away, but being a great general really had weight to it—literally. In fact, the surrounding crowd pulled back from both the outward surging heat and flames, but neither Darah nor Spellweaver seemed fazed by the extreme pyrotechnics happening around them. Their deadly dance continued.

While fire and air combusted between them, Darah twirled around to dodge another of Spellweaver's downward slashes. Her momentum sent her jumping upward in a spinning heel kick that would have smacked Spellweaver in the head if he hadn't dodged in time.

Darah's sword came rus.h.i.+ng down as she landed back on the ground, but Spellweaver raised his sword in time to parry it.

They circled around each other.

Spellweaver launched another attack but Darah caught his sword-hand mid-swing in an amazing show of martial talent.

Then she pulled his hand and falchion to the side while rotating her entire body a hundred-eighty-degrees so that her back was to him. And while his sword arm was extended and incapable of harming her, she released an elbow strike at Spellweaver's chest. Spellweaver blocked the attack with his free hand, but the impact was strong enough to swat his hand away, leaving his head open for a second elbow shot that struck him right on the nose.

Darah released his sword arm, and her opponent pulled back while screaming obscene curses at her. The dude had a potty mouth to rival Deadpool .

Spellweaver took several steps back, but Darah followed him, moving forward in a twirl that allowed her to smack him on the side of the head with another spinning heel kick.

"She's showing off now," I noted.

"Yes," Aura agreed.

"Uhuh," Luca added.

Spellweaver was driven back but reclaimed his footing away from Darah's reach. He shook off the pain and raised his head to glare at her—but she was gone from his line of sight.

While he was disoriented, Darah had ducked to the side and skirted the corner to bridge the distance between them unnoticed by her opponent. And by the time Spellweaver spotted her, she was already at his side and launching the attack that earned her the monicker of Iron Fist.

Darah stepped into range and slammed her left fist into his gut with the force of a wrecking ball, causing Spellweaver to double over in pain. Blood and spit came out of his mouth. Even his Augmentare was dispelled. However, this critical blow wasn't enough to bring Spellweaver to his knees.

Swift as lightning, he swung his falchion around, and I watched it finally break through her armor and cut into Darah's shoulder as she barely pulled away.

Blood trickled down to her heaving chest. Darah looked winded. Although she was still smiling like she was enjoying the fight.

Then Spellweaver roared.

It was a horrific scream that made my spine tingle with nervous antic.i.p.ation as I realized I'd heard a similar berserker roar before. In fact, I was pretty sure Luca was equally unnerving to hear whenever he activated his Foolish Insight .

"Ah, yes… I wondered if she could bring it out of him… that ridiculously wrathful side of his," Ardeen Spellweaver mused.

Like a mad dog, Spellweaver forced Darah back with swing after swing even as Darah cut his flesh. Darah rolled away. Dodged. Ducked. Even countered. Still, Spellweaver stuck to her like a lizard on the wall. He did not give her a moment to breathe.

"Hmm…"

"What?" I glanced at Ardeen Spellweaver's masked face. "What is it now?"

Even behind his mask, I could tell that he looked bored. Somehow, I had this gut feeling that his father's transformation annoyed the guy.

"At this rate, your Great General Darah might not last much longer…" After he said this, Spellweaver looked over to the masked rider he'd left with his troops. He signaled her with his hand. "I can't have that happening too soon."

I don't know why, but that signal sent my proverbial spider-sense tingling.

The masked rider acknowledged his signal with a nod of her head. Then she was gone—vanished into the Magesong soldiers like the shadow she was.

Seeing her vanish sent a chill up my spine because this was the moment I realized that having everyone distracted with the generals' fight made now the perfect opportunity to pull an underhanded scheme that could upset the battle.

"Wh-what are you planning?" I asked. Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click for visiting.

But behind his mask, I could already see the glint of triumph in Ardeen Spellweaver's eyes. The smile he'd given me when we met was back too. As if to tell me that whatever I did now would be too little too late.

"You really are surprisingly sharp-witted, boy touched with fire," Ardeen said. "I would love to match wits with you again — should you survive tonight…"

My hand reached down for my falchion.

"N-no..." Every nerve in my body told me I had to stop this elf before he could do anything to change the status quo. "S-stop!"

I unsheathed my falchion. The shadowblade sprang out of the hilt.

Beside me, Aura could sense the tension roll off me. Her eyes darted between me and our unwelcome neighbor. 

"D-dean… what's wrong?" Despite her confusion, she unslung her staff and held it aloft in her right hand, seemingly ready for anything. "Tell me."

I didn't answer her as it was already too late.

Then came the sound of unfamiliar horns like a cacophony of wails unlike anything I'd ever heard before. Manufactured death rattles that were repeated over and over until all we could hear was this horrific wailing rolling onto the battlefield from somewhere beyond my blurred eyes could reach.

"d.a.m.n…" I glared at Spellweaver. "What did you do?"

He responded in a foreboding voice with a phrase I knew all too well. I'd read Dracula enough times to remember it. "The children of the night. What sweet music they make!"