The enthusiastic reaction I had hoped for was more of a light applause. Less confident now, I continued. “You deserve a ruler who will fight for your lives, not threaten them with every breath he utters. Who will protect your freedoms, and serve you more than you serve him. That is not Joth Tarquin.”
The crowd’s cheer was instantly diminished by cries behind me when light burst from out of nowhere and, from its center, Joth marched toward the platform, his arms raised as if he were already the victor. He made the same rotation as I had done only seconds ago, then widened his arms overhead for silence.
“Lord Endrick is dead. You have been freed from his oppression!” A muted applause went up from the audience, with the exception of those who had been true Dominion Loyalists. They only stared at Joth with solemn expressions that masked their true emotions. They had no desire to see me win, but I suspected their feelings for Joth were far more acidic.
Joth lowered his arms, his hands now in fists. “I must admit, I expected more enthusiasm to greet your new king. Perhaps that is because you do not know me, and maybe you fear me. You will know me in time, and it is right that you should feel this fear because I have powers that extend beyond even what Lord Endrick could do. However, as of this moment, I have no quarrel with any of you, so there will be no revenge on Dallisors, on Halderians, or on Antorans. For that reason, I alone can bring us together.”
A more enthusiastic applause followed. If it was sincere, then I was already in trouble. Hadn’t they all heard the part about fearing him?
Joth raised his sword and pointed at me. “This so-called Halderian king has no royal blood, nor even a drop of the blood of the people he claims to lead. The most he can offer is yet another battle in which many of you will die today. Or if you step forward now and remove him from this platform, the war is over. Accept me as your king, and there will be no need for any more fighting among us.”
Off to the right, where the Dallisors had been standing, a fervor of conversation arose, and movement shifted toward the platform. So the Dallisors had chosen sides after all, and it wasn’t for me. I prepared myself to face them, but they had taken no more than ten steps toward me when Commander Reese signaled my cavalry to form a line in front of the Dallisors. Gabe and Basil also led their groups in that same direction, then stood facing the Dallisors, weapons ready.
I had turned to watch it happen, long enough to see the Dallisors back down, but as soon as they did, Joth struck me from behind. As a strange bit of luck, I felt the hard blow against the back of my legs, but he cursed in disappointment. At a slightly different angle, that would have given me a crippling cut.
Still, I was knocked to the ground and rolled away just in time for Joth to stab his sword downward. Based on the force with which it hit the ground, I knew he had intended it to be a death blow.
When I rolled, I angled my sword upward to take a swipe at him, but when I did, his eyes darted leftward and, with them, my blade was forced in that direction and fell to the ground. I glared at him, and he only winked at me. His game had begun.
I grabbed the sword again and stood, facing off with him, but as before, he was quietly using magic against me. This time, my feet felt as if they were embedded in inches of mud. I could move them but only with great effort, making it nearly impossible to swing at him with any effect.
“Surrender now,” Joth said. “You’re embarrassing yourself, Simon.”
“How pathetic it must be to know magic is your only hope of winning. Those who recognize what you are doing will see how weak you truly are.”
Instantly, my feet were released, and Joth attacked again, though I was ready for him, parrying his blow and then countering with one of my own, leaving a slice across his arm. The audience gasped, for it was the first strike to draw blood. However, our duel was far from finished, and I had no doubt that Joth would cheat as often as necessary.
We continued to levy blows against each other, though Joth was still using magic in the subtlest of ways. At the moment, the platform floor was constantly changing angles, so slight it wouldn’t be visible, but I felt it every time I tried to get a stable footing. And I believed the wind changed direction to come at my face, no matter which direction I turned, while Joth’s hair was barely ruffled.
Finally, I got behind him long enough for a strike across his legs, exactly where he had attacked me first, but my sword was turned to cause far greater damage. He fell forward, his own sword tumbling out of his reach. I started toward it, but he turned and raised a hand toward me. I was hit with a force that knocked me backward hard enough to break the ropes that had surrounded our platform. I fell off the edge and into the crowd.
Gasps echoed through the courtyard, and when I climbed onto the platform again, a cheer followed. Angrily, Joth grabbed a knife from his waistband and shouted, “I am your king! Bow to me, or you will die!”
Then he threw the knife directly at me. No doubt it was sent on the wings of magic, which meant it could not miss.
He had no intention of losing.
Neither did I.
There was no explanation for me to have awoken, other than that I now had Endrick’s powers and, with them, his near immortality. The wounds in my leg and in my hands had healed, though both were sore to the touch. Although I was capable of standing, I continued to lie in the snow without moving. Joth’s attack on me was the nearest I’d ever come to death, and I was still shaken from it. Even Lord Endrick, knowing I was the Infidante, had been controlled in anything he had ever done to me. Joth was untethered from any compass between good and evil. He was sheer venom.
What Joth was, what Lord Endrick had been, would be me in time. That was as inevitable as the rising sun each day. I could see it now in full view, with all its ugliness and stain.
I could see myself now, as if reflected by the clearest mirror, and all I wished was to shatter it, to shatter that part of myself. If only it were possible.
Loelle had said that, for all her searching, she had found no way to pull the corruption from me. Every attempt that Joth had made to take my magic did weaken me, but it always returned. Over and over, I had been assured that with magic would come corruption and that any chance of a cure was hopeless.
Yet deep within my mind, I had always held to one small possibility, something that had not been tried, had not even been considered: If magic could not be pulled from me, could I give it away?
I lay with that thought for some time, rolling it around in my head like a loose marble that shifted with every movement I made, never settling in one place long enough to know if there was anything tangible to my ideas.
And finally I sat up, having made my decision. What I was about to attempt would likely fail, and failure here meant certain death. But in my current weakened state, I knew that I could not continue to live as I had been. I had to take this chance.
Lord Endrick had come to power by killing all those whose magic he wanted, thus obtaining their powers for himself. At some point, he must have begun to sense his own mortality, should someone ever make him the target. So he poured a portion of his magic into the Olden Blade. Whatever thus happened to him would be i
rrelevant, because the magic in the Olden Blade could restore him.
It was a plan that should have worked, until the Olden Blade was stolen. Then the object that could save his life now became the sole object that could take it.