Mythos: Last Stand

  Chapter 14 — Mock Battle

  by Caide Fullerton

  Sils: “So, you’re the so-called Humans, eh? I’d say it’s nice to meetcha, but I don’t believe that story for a second.”

  The pint-sized Captain Sils asserted her opinion with an expression halfway between a grin and a scowl, her hands on her hips. She didn’t seem truly upset, per se; rather, she seemed to be enjoying herself. She’d likely have been very intimidating if she weren’t small enough to fit in a person's hand.

  Sils appeared to be a fairy of some kind, a pair of insect-like wings protruding from her back. Bright yellow hair sat atop her head in spiky tufts, a messy strip of it falling between her eyes and two long strands hanging behind her pointed ears. She wore a golden-yellow shirt with a deep lace-up neck, a black sash resting atop it from shoulder to hip. Black shorts matched the sash, the outfit completed by thick boots and at least three haphazardly-overlapping belts.

  Sils: “Well? Ya got an explanation fer me or no?” She demanded, tapping her foot.

  Strade and Helena exchanges puzzled glances. Jackie met Sils’s eyes—at least, they attempted to; it was hard to tell since she was so small—and spoke,

  Jackie: “I understand why you’d be suspicious, but we really are Human. Our appearances should prove that, shouldn’t it?”

  Sils scoffed. “Plenty o’ things look just like ya. Most shapeshifters, for starters; y’even admitted that yer friend’s a Mimic. Or ya could be Ghosts. Djinn without markings. Gods or Spirits in disguise.”

  Jackie: “Those theories got convoluted pretty fast.”

  Jahd: “If they were Gods or Spirits, I doubt they’d be playin’ along with us.”

  Sils stamped her foot. “Ah, shut it, both o’ ya! I know they ain’t damn Spirits! It’s a joke!”

  Jahd sighed. “Someone of yer station shouldn’t make jokes. Especially in such important conversations.”

  Sils: “An’ my second-in-command shouldn’t be a drunk bastard, either, but look at you.”

  Jahd: “As a Zombie, alcohol has no effect on me.”

  Sils: “‘No effect’ my ass!” She pressed a hand to her temple and sighed before looking back up at Jackie, her hands back on her hips. “Anyways, it ain’t easy to just accept that some extinct race walked right outta the Heap.”

  Helena: “I wouldn’t exactly say we ‘walked right out’, but…”

  Sils: “Things don’t escape the Heap often, courtesy of the Basilisks. Nine times outta ten, they’re Mimics. Ten times outta ten, we kill ‘em, whatever they are.”

  Strade placed a hand on one of the knives at his belt, snarling. “That what this is? Want to kill us outta sight of your lackeys?”

  Sils narrowed her green eyes with amusement. “Please. First of all, my guys ain’t that weak-stomached. Second, if Jahd thought y’all were a serious danger, he wouldn’ta let you get half this far.”

  Jahd: “Third of all,” he said as he stepped forward, placing himself at the edge of Sils’s table, “I’ll have ta remove ye if ye threaten the cap’n.”

  Strade’s expression soured, but Jackie held out a hand, speaking in his place. “To be fair, the cap’n did kinda threaten us first.”

  Sils: “Ah, sorry. Not what I meant—I ain’t plannin’ on hurtin’ ya, so rest assured. Just wanted to make it clear how strange of a situation this is.

  “The fact that there are people in the Forgotten Heap, that’s a damn big deal. That you’re Humans, the same ones that went extinct hundreds o’ years ago… well, that might just be a bigger deal than the literal war we’re fightin’. To be frank, it’s a whole lotta work I don’t feel like dealin’ with at the moment.”

  Jackie: “And your point is..?”

  Sils: “My point’s gonna change a lot dependin’ on if yer really Human or not. If y’ain’t, it’ll be the metal variety.”

  That comment got Strade to lean forward, his scowl deepening, but Helena held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder. Jackie glanced back at him, then to Jahd, who was now resting a hand on one of the swords at his belt. They shrugged,

  Jackie: “Well, how exactly are we meant to prove what we are?”

  Sils sighed. “If you were claimin’ ta be anything else, it’d be easy. I’d just have ya step outside and use yer racial magic. But Humans…”

  As she raised a hand to her chin with a ponderous expression, Jackie cocked their head. ‘Racial magic’, as she called it, was a new term, but they had a good idea of what it entailed. “Do all the races have their own abilities?”

  Sils: “Aye. Humans are no different, but it’s probably the hardest one ta demonstrate. Kirra told me once that their abilities are all mental, an’ they only work on people they know well.” Her face soured, “That was prolly the longest rant I ever saw from ‘er. Never made the mistake of askin’ about Humans again.”

  Jackie was careful to hide their surprise; they could only hope that the others behind them did the same. They’d expected her to say Humans had no abilities. It went without saying that Jackie possessed nothing like ‘mental magic’, and they doubted their companions did, either.

  …or did they? Days ago, back at the ruin where they’d met Lii, they’d seen a vision of Helena’s memories. If that wasn’t mental magic, what else could it be? They hadn’t been able to think of any decent lead as to what that vision had been, but if Humans were meant to have mental abilities, it would make sense for it to be one of them.

  Why hadn’t they been aware of it, though? For that matter, why wasn’t anyone else aware of their own powers? Sils had implied there were multiple abilities, too. Were they all just lying dormant? How had Humans forgotten about their own magic?

  Before their vision, the closest thing they’d ever witnessed to magic was Al’s unique ability. The old man had never explained it in its entirety to Jackie, but they’d been able to put together that he possessed some sort of power that others did not. He was able to predict the way others would move, and in battle he would move with calculated perfection. Was that also part of the so-called racial magic of Humans?

  If so, was that ability also simply dormant, lost to time? Why had Al awoken it, but nobody else? Had Al unlocked the ability as a fluke, or was it something separate altogether? They supposed all the same questions could be applied to their own memory vision. Would they also be able to unlock Al’s ability, then, or was it completely random which powers would awaken for which Humans? Would the others be able to view memory visions like they had?

  Whatever the case, they couldn’t view memories on command—nor did they really want to—and they couldn’t predict others’ movements like Al could. Sils expected them to have mental powers, perhaps ones even beyond the two examples they knew of. They absolutely couldn’t reveal that they had no such abilities; that would be tantamount to admitting they weren’t really Human.

  Their expression lit up as they had an idea. They looked to Jahd and asked, “May I approach the captain?”

  Jahd raised an eyebrow, then nodded with a “Go ahead.” Jackie stepped forward, placed a hand on the table, and leaned in close to whisper something to Sils.

  From up close, they could see the fairy’s smile widen into a conniving grin as they relayed their idea. “Sounds good ta me. Go for it.”

  Jackie stood back up and turned around to face the others. “Well then, how about we settle this with a duel? Strade, you’re probably the best fighter of us three. You up for it?”

  Their companions stared back at them with dumbfounded expressions.

  Helena: “How exactly is that going to help..?”

  Jackie put on a patented ‘just trust me’ smile; Helena frowned, buying it exactly as much as they expected her to. At that, Sils fluttered up into the air, her wings buzzing almost silently behind her as she hovered near Jackie,

  Sils: “I’ll give ya some encouragement. If you win, I’ll grant ya anythin’ you want within my power—even if you turn out not to be Human. No consequence at all if ya lose.”

  Strade: “That makes it more suspicious, not less.” He sighed. “Who would I be fighting?”

  Sils & Jackie: “Oh Ja~hd.”

  The second-in-command had resigned to his fate before the question was even asked. “You owe me a beer fer this, Cap’n.”

  Sils: “Only if you win.~” She teased in a singsong voice, landing to casually lounge back on Jackie’s shoulder.

  Jackie: “Should you really sit on a suspect?” They asked, looking down at her.

  Sils: “I ain’t worried. Unless you’re admittin’ you’re a danger?”

  Jackie winked down at her. “I might try and steal you away.~” The comment was met with the boisterous laughter of a fairy and the deep sigh of a Zombie with far too much on his plate.

  Strade glared daggers at Jackie. “You’re awful calm about this if you’ve got time to flirt. What’s the trick?”

  Jackie: “Not telli~ng.” They stuck their tongue out at him, earning a frustrated twitch of his eyebrows.

  Strade took a deep breath before responding, “Fine, I’ll do it.”

  Sils: “It’s a deal, then.” She made a happy snort, her wings fluttering. “If ya want, I can hop outside and get someone to stand witne—“

  She didn’t get to finish the sentence. Strade shot forth from where he was standing, charging towards Jahd in a preemptive blitz. A knife rose from his belt to his outstretched hand as he swung.

  The burst of motion came to just as sudden an end. Jahd raised the sword upon which his hand rested. He did not draw the blade, nor did he even remove the colorful scabbard from his belt; he simply lifted the scabbard up to deflect Strade’s blade.

  Strade had no doubt hoped to bring the duel to a swift end, or to at least gain a significant advantage, by catching Jahd off-guard. The terms of the agreement didn’t specify that it had to be a fair duel, after all. However, the one caught off-guard was actually Strade. He’d expected Jahd to react fast, but the swordsman was too prepared.

  Taking advantage of that brief opening, Jahd swung his body around and planted a whirling kick into Strade’s stomach, sending him tumbling out of the tent.

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  The sun flashed across Strade’s vision as he rolled backwards and to his feet, clawing at the dirt with his free hand to steady himself as he slid. Several bystanders stumbled away as he shot out into a small clearing. There was some confused shouting, a number of puzzled glances between him and the tent. A few people reached for their weapons.

  Jahd: “Y’know, the term ‘duel’ implies a degree of honor.” He spoke calmly as he stepped out of the tent. A quick look at each of the others around had them lowering their weapons, falling to the sidelines to serve as witnesses.

  Strade: “That’s rich, comin’ from you.” He stood, drawing a second knife in his other hand. “If I hadn’t gone for it first, you—“

  Jahd: “Ah ah ah, I’m gonna stop ye there.” He wagged a finger at Strade, then yanked at his sword, unclipping the scabbard from his belt. It was the larger, two-handed one; he raised it up and held it with one hand covering both the hilt and scabbard, keeping it sheathed. “That’s slander, y’know.”

  Strade clicked his tongue. “I’m really startin’ not to like you. Draw your steel.”

  Jahd: “No thanks.” His expression remained neutral, perhaps slightly amused. “I don’t need it.”

  Strade let out a low growl and launched himself forward, closing the distance between him and Jahd in but a second. He made a wide swing, kicking the ground at the last second to stop himself just outside the range of Jahd’s sword—a feint. Jahd did not move.

  Once again Strade took the initiative, this time slashing at Jahd’s shoulder with real intent; the Zombie hopped to the side, deftly evading the strike. Strade then jabbed sideways with his other knife, and this attack Jahd was forced to block with his scabbard as he stepped back.

  Strade pushed. Charging ever-forward, he bombarded Jahd with a flurry of slash after slash after slash after slash. Jahd responded only with evasion and quick blocks, his footwork carrying him backwards in circles around the clearing. The two entered a perfect rhythm, one strike being evaded and the next deflected, those two moves repeating ad infinitum.

  Jackie and Helena stepped out of the tent, the former still carrying Sils on their shoulder. All three watched the fierce battle play out before them; Jackie and Sils both nodded seriously as they each considered the combat skill of an unfamiliar man. After a few seconds of this, Helena glanced aside at them,

  Helena: “So, what exactly is the point of this..?”

  Jackie: “Oh, it’s simple, really. All of us are tired and injured. That Jahd guy also seemed like he could handle himself well—he’s probably a better fighter than Strade. And to top it all off, he can regenerate even if Strade does land a hit.”

  Helena raised an eyebrow. “Regenerate?”

  Jackie nodded. “Well, his head got exploded all over me when he first showed up, so I’m pretty sure that’s what it is.” They grimaced at the memory. “Either way, the point is that this fight is completely unwinnable for Strade.”

  Sils: “If he really is just some Human, that is,” she added with an evil grin. “He seems the sort ta show ‘is true colors in a fight, too.”

  Helena narrowed her eyes at the two. “It’s scary how fast you got all buddy-buddy.”

  At that, both Jackie and Sils turned to Helena with a grin and spoke in tandem,

  Jackie & Sils: “Jealous?~”

  Helena did not grace them with a response, instead turning back to the battle unfolding before her.

  * ? *

  Strade was infuriated. No many times he swung or stabbed or slashed, no matter which angle he used, no matter how he approached, Jahd blocked and evaded every attack, his expression unchanging. He made it look effortless.

  How was he so much stronger, so much more capable? There were a myriad of reasons, really. Strade was running on just a few hours of sleep, injured from the fall and exhausted after the arduous escape from the Basilisks and the walk all the way here. He’d been on high alert for hours on end and was too stressed to focus. Jahd seemed to be much older than him, and thus more experienced. He had to imagine that the outside world had provided Jahd with better training than what the Forgotten Heap had offered Strade. To top it all off, they were a poor match-up to begin with; Strade’s knives had a much lower effective range than Jahd’s sword.

  Excuses. Lame, pointless excuses, every one of them. Even if he stacked every one of them together, could they explain the gap between the two warriors?

  He didn’t believe it. No, he wouldn’t accept it. He was better than this. It didn’t matter if he was injured or exhausted or stressed or less experienced or had worse training; he refused to be inferior.

  Their exchange of blows repeated again, one slash evaded, the next blocked by a scabbard. To even call it an ‘exchange’ was blasphemous when only one participant was attacking. He needed to break this deadlock.

  He dove forward for his next attack but stopped short at the last second, instead sweeping a leg across the ground between him and Jahd. A smokescreen of sand billowed up between them, blocking each warrior’s view of the other.

  Jahd had been playing defensive this entire time. Most likely, he was fighting that way to prove a point, or perhaps to tire Strade out without injuring him further. Either way, he was fairly confident Jahd wouldn’t switch up strategies now and strike through the smokescreen. If he remained on the defensive, this move served purely to benefit Strade.

  And so, he lunged.

  Jahd was already prepared to intercept the attack. He was holding his sword in only one hand, and as Strade shot forward the older warrior grabbed his wrist, stopping the attack a mere inch away from his body.

  He did not merely stop Strade, however. Instead, he took advantage of his momentum, twisting to the side to throw Strade behind him. Then, as Strade stumbled away, he placed his hand back on his sword and, for the first time, stepped forward to strike. He closed the meager distance between them swiftly, his scabbard drawing a wide arc that left no room for escape.

  If this were a real fight, Strade would die if hit by such an attack. He would have no choice but to block or evade, placing himself on the defensive and turning the battle in his opponent’s favor.

  This, however, was not a real fight. It was a duel, a mock battle, and his opponent’s blade was sheathed within a dull scabbard. Getting hit would hurt, but it would not kill him. It would leave a bruise, but not a major wound.

  To a certain degree, Strade understood the purpose of Jackie’s gambit. This battle was designed to prove they were Human, and its success required that Strade lose. He could cut his losses here and admit defeat, and all would be well.

  Even so, he couldn’t. He understood that it wasn’t a real fight. He understood that he was meant to lose. He understood that he was facing an opponent against whom he was never meant to win. Even so, even so—

  The idea of just giving up seriously pissed him off.

  He dug his feet into the dirt and pushed forward, launching himself towards Jahd. Ducking his head as he charged forward, he met Jahd’s attack quite literally head-on. It hurt. Jahd was strong, and he had not held back.

  Even so, Strade forced his body forward and made a desperate stab.

  The two warriors separated as the dust cleared around them, Jahd leaping back. Strade stumbled, nearly collapsing as his ears rang from the impact of Jahd’s scabbard. Even so, he smiled.

  Jahd was bleeding. A gash now cut across the inside of his left elbow; he let that arm fall limp and lowered his sword, flipping it around and clipping it back to his belt.

  Jahd: “Ye’d be dead, y’know.”

  Strade: “I do.”

  Jahd raised an eyebrow at that. “Do ye? Heh.” He snorted, a slight smile creeping onto his face as he pulled one of the two smaller swords from his belt, brandishing it in his right hand. “Ye’ve got potential, I’ll give ye that. But someone’s gotta teach ye not ta be so reckless.”

  He once again held his hand across the sword’s hilt and scabbard, still resolved to fight with it sheathed. This sword was much shorter than the first, the curve of its blade less pronounced.

  Strade: “I’m here to kick your ass, not to get criticized.”

  Jahd: “Ah, really? I thought ye were tryin’ to prove yer identity.” He nodded with a sarcastic grin, “Well, guess I plan on criticizin’ ye either way, so I suppose the least I could do is provide th’ass kickin’, too.”

  That comment got Strade to knit his eyebrows, but he had no time to respond before Jahd shot forward. He entered a low stance, crossing his good arm across his body as he approached. Strade was forced to jump back as the warrior swung, the tip of his scabbard whizzing past just in front of Strade's face.

  For the briefest moment his eyes widened at the sudden attack. That shock was quickly replaced by a smile as Strade met his opponent head-on.

  The clearing was filled with the sounds of metal striking wood, the bystanders along each edge watching in awe as the two warriors clashed. Jahd was fast, and between his speed and the increased range of his sword he was easily able to keep up with both of Strade’s knives despite being down an arm.

  As a flurry of clashes came to an end, Strade ducked the final swing and lunged for Jahd’s side, aiming for his shoulder. The Zombie twisted his body out of the way, falling to a low crouch as he twirled around and swept Strade’s feet out from under him with a kick.

  Strade hit the ground with a roll, swiftly rising back to his feet and whirling back around only to find Jahd’s sword thrusting forward. The flat end of the scabbard struck him on the forehead, knocking him down into the dirt.

  Jahd: “Takin’ risks is a good thing. Necessary, even. But ye gotta know which ones’re worth takin’.”

  Strade: “That’s rich coming from the guy who just lost an arm over a damn duel.”

  Jahd stood back, allowing Strade to rise back to his feet. His fists tightened around his knives as he charged forward again. He flung one of his knives forward; Jahd easily sidestepped the projectile, but it gave Strade a brief opening.

  He thrust his remaining knife forward, but it was not a serious attack. Jahd swung down to intercept, their weapons clashing. In that moment Strade seized the scabbard in his free hand and yanked it towards him, simultaneously twisting his body sideways. He planted his foot against Jahd’s stomach and kicked hard, sending him tumbling away while claiming the sheathed sword for himself.

  It was a good weapon, but he wasn’t practiced in swords. He had no intention of winning via the merit of his opponent’s weaponry, either, so he tossed it aside and charged forward again, drawing a second knife from his belt. Ahead of him, Jahd was already unclipping his second one-handed sword from his belt.

  As he closed in he repeated the same move as earlier, stopping short of Jahd and kicking up a smokescreen. This time, however, he did not lunge forward; instead he hopped back and flung one of his knives through the dust cloud as a projectile.

  Jahd was the one to push forward, clearing some of the dust with a wave of his hurt arm. He dove right into Strade’s knife, the blade catching on his head. Strade’s eyes shot open wide, but Jahd closed the distance between them unperturbed by the mortal wound. He swung his blade, catching Strade off-guard and hitting him hard in the neck.

  Strade stumbled back, letting out a gargled cry of pain. He fell on his ass and held a hand to his throat, coughing up saliva.

  Jahd: “Ye wouldn’t know what a Zombie is, would ye?” He raised his hurt arm, which was no longer bleeding, and casually removed Strade’s knife from his forehead, tossing it aside. He then made his way over to his discarded sword and lifted it up.

  Turning to Strade, Jahd held both of his swords out wide, making it all the more clear that his wounded arm had already healed. He then crossed both weapons in front of his chest before slashing them out to either side. As he did, his hands slid down to their hilts, allowing the movement to send both of their scabbards flying off. The pristine steel of his dual swords twinkled in the harsh sun.

  Jahd: “You just got the ass kicking, so here comes the criticism. I’ve drawn my blades. What’ll you do next?” He spoke calmly, the lackadaisical attitude he’d held til now instantly replaced by a sharp tone.

  Strade took a shaky breath and spat to the side before rising. Drawing yet another knife from his belt, he stared Jahd down.

  Naturally, he charged.

  Jahd’s eyes narrowed. “Wrong answer, kid.”

  With that he surged forward, one blade slashing downward toward Strade. He pivoted to the side, feeling the wind brush against his arm as Jahd’s blade cut past him. He made a desperate lunge with a knife outstretched, but Jahd flicked his other sword to the side, batting its edge against Strade’s weapon. Jahd was taller, stronger; his weapon was larger, heavier. Naturally, Strade’s offensive was easily countered, the clash knocking him off-balance.

  Seizing that opportunity, Jahd twisted to the side and swung a kick up at the stumbling Strade. A trickle of blood erupted from his nose as Jahd’s boot clapped against his chin, sending him stumbling further backwards. The assault did not end there, as Jahd lunged forward, drawing a silver arc through the air as one of his blades closed in on Strade’s neck—

  Time seemed to slow as the honed edge of Jahd’s sword closed in. It stopped, rigid in the air, a mere inch before it would have cut into Strade’s neck. He was left to collapse backwards on his own—uncut, but the intent was clear.

  He had lost, utterly and entirely. His opponent had spared his life.

  Jahd let out a long exhale as he straightened his back. Turning to one of the bystanders he called out, “My scabbards.” The bystander gave a quick nod, and he and another swiftly retrieved both scabbards and delivered them to Jahd. He sheathed his blades simultaneously before clipping both back to his belt.

  Sils: “Well?” Her voice called out from the sidelines, still sitting atop Jackie’s shoulder. “What’s the verdict?”

  Jahd slowly made his way over to the trio waiting outside of the captain’s tent. “I suppose they’re prolly tellin’ the truth.”

  Sils: “Aww, really? You didn’t notice ‘im usin’ any powers or anythin’?”

  Jahd shook his head. “After a defeat like that… if he had any powers, he’d be usin’ em ta tear my head off right about now.”

  Jackie: “Toldja. Could’ve saved the trouble if you just believed me.” They crossed their arms with a smug expression. “You’re pretty badass, though. Wanna join my crew?”

  Jahd: “’Fraid I’m spoken fer. Cap’n Sils wouldn’t last without me here.”

  Sils: “Oi, you better not be talkin’ shit ‘bout yer Captain.”

  Jahd: “I would never.”

  Sils sighed. “Well, guess I don’t gotta execute y’all, but housin’ you’s gonna be a way bigger headache. We oughta discuss yer situation a bit more, but… howsabout we get yer friend there in a tent first?”

  That was the last Strade heard before he blacked out.