Skyworld Book I

Chapter Nine - Duel Of Champions

"I don’t get it?" Dent confessed as he paced around Prof. Romaine’s tower apartment. It seemed wizards, by the number of spacious rooms and furniture scattered throughout, were highly thought of in Candlemar.

"Relax, Gideon," Romaine advised, as he and Captain Cloud watched their frustrated companion move about like a caged tiger. "Why don’t you sit down and have some wine.

I’ve sent someone to the kitchens to bring us some food directly."

"You should do as he says," Cloud smiled, hoisting a decanter of red wine. "It’s a very good vintage."

Thirty minutes had elapsed since the confrontation in the courtyard and now they, like the rest of the city, were awaiting Althea’s response.

"What exactly is this Duel of Champions? Can you at least explain that to me?"

"Let me," Cloud volunteered, wiping his lips with a cloth napkin.

Romaine deferred to him with a short bow. "By all means, Captain. Please."

"There are certain rules that govern members of royalty, Gideon. Rules that are sometimes strange and complicated, but nonetheless part of our traditions.

"No one of royal blood is allowed to spill other royal blood. Thus, even should the princess prove her brother a criminal, the worst she could do is have him imprisoned or exiled."

"The same for Arkurn?" Dent picked up.

"Exactly," Cloud straightened up in his padded chair. "The problem for both of them is clear enough, how to do away with the other in a more, ah shall we say, permanent manner without breaking the laws of tradition.

"The solution is quite simple. Have someone else of non-royal blood do your killing for you."

"In other words murder by proxy?"

"Yes, only here we call it a duel. Much more refined that way. Each party chooses a champion to fight for him or her. The winner not only gets the desired goal, in this case the crown, but also the right to imprison or banish the loser. All without spilling a single drop of royal blood."

Romaine filled another goblet with wine and handed it to Dent. "Duels are very common in Skyworld. Honor and all that rubbish. Rather barbaric if you ask me."

Dent took a sip of wine and shook his head. "Who do you think Althea will pick as her champion?"

"My boy, I haven’t a clue. She has literally hundreds of brave young men to choose from. As you saw by her reception, she is well loved by the masses. I would hazard that most of the military are loyal to her cause."

"Whereas Arkurn’s choice is no mystery," Cloud offered.

"Skymarshal Dercov," Romaine concurred. "He is nothing but a vicious killer loyal to Arkurn like some kind of mindless pet. I certainly pity the man Althea picks to fight him."

There was a knocking at the door and Romaine clapped his hands together. "Ah, that must be our repast."

He rushed to the door and pulled it open only to find the caller was none other than the princess.

"My lady, what a pleasant surprise." The white haired wizard welcomed her into his domicile. "Please, do come in."

Althea swept past him in an elegant flourish. Having washed and changed her attire, she looked ravishing in a silk-like gown with slits that revealed her well-shaped legs as she walked. She wore jeweled sandals as well as golden bracelets on her naked arms and a glistening blue jewel centered on a velvet choker about her neck. Dent thought she was so radiant, a blind man would have felt her presence.

Captain Cloud bounded out of his chair and was standing beside Dent when he greeted her. "Princess. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Skymarshal. I have come to speak with Gideon. If you and the wizard would be so kind as to allow us some privacy."

"But of course," Cloud said picking up his shoulder cape off the chair and turning towards the door. "I should be checking on my ship. That everything has been squared away. I will see you later, Dent."

Romaine joined Cloud. "As for me, I’ll take a stroll down to the kitchens to see how our meal is coming along."

After the door closed behind the departing pair, Althea walked over to the window and peered out. The room was set in the rear quadrant and from this vantage she could see the vast array of skyships assembled around and above the palace.

"So many different factions. All here to see what will become of Meland and who will be her ruler."

Dent didn’t move. Whatever Althea had on her mind, he knew she would get to it in her own way. He sipped some more wine and listened.

"On the ship, you said you loved me. Was that true?"

"You have to ask?"

Althea turned and folded her arms behind her back. It was a gesture making her immediately vulnerable to him. "Gideon, will you be my champion in the duel tomorrow?"

"What? Are you serious? You have hundreds of soldiers to choose from. Most of them better fighters than me."

"But none of them I wish to share my life with."

"On the ship, you said that was impossible."

"I had not foreseen what my brother would do. By challenging me to this contest of champions, he has made it possible for us to be together legitimately."

Gideon put his cup down and joined her at the window. "How?"

"Arkurn has chosen Kell Dercov as his champion."

"Romaine and Cloud figured as much."

"Yes. But what you must consider is Dercov’s position in our government."

"As skymarshal?"

"Yes. Oh, Gideon, don’t you see? If you fight and beat him, I will not only be victorious in my rightful claim to the throne, but I will also be able to pick the next Skymarshal of Meland."

Her eyes shone with an inner light as the picture she painted for him began to crystallize.

"You mean me!"

Althea couldn’t control her enthusiasm any further. She reached out and grabbed his arms. "Yes, Gideon. And no one would dare contest my choice. Not after you had defeated Dercov in mortal combat. It would all be right and proper according to our customs.

"As well as you becoming my consort."

"Your what?"

"My royal consort. Gideon, by law you can never be the King of Meland. What I told you on the Purpleheart still stands. But as Queen, I can have a partner, a mate equal in all things save for the crown. A consort."

"Hm, I get it. Not exactly your typical husband and wife situation."

"No. But those are just words. We would be lovers for all the world to see. Isn’t that enough for you?"

Gideon looked into the pools of desire that were her eyes and again was struck with the aching she ignited in his soul. He had known from the first sight of her, that he would fight heaven and hell to have her. Well, here it was, the heaven part right in front of him. All he had to do was pass through hell to claim that paradise.

"No, Althea. It is much more than enough. God, but I love you so much."

Then he was crushing her body to his and his mouth was kissing her warm, hungry lips. He forgot all about tomorrow. He forgot about everything except the feel of her body and those sweet lips.

---

The next morning came faster than Gideon Dent would have preferred. He’d spent most of the night trying to get some sleep but his nerves were on overdrive. All he could accomplish was dampening his imagination down a few notches and getting several hours of quiet rest. Gideon was a pragmatic man who didn’t like wasting time on worrying about those things he had no control over.

What was the worst thing that could happen? Kell Dercov would win the bout and kill him. The end.

When Prof. Romaine called him from the guest room he was using, for a light meal, Dent was relieved to have the long night behind him. Halfway through their repast, they were joined by Captain Cloud and Lt. Tand, both of whom were able to provide him with reports of his opponent’s fighting skills. They had seen Dercov in action.

"He’s a brute fighter," Tand put forth. "He relies totally on his strength and aggressiveness to intimidate his opponents."

"Which is why you’ve got to out-think him," Cloud conceded. "Going head on with him is the worst thing you can do."

Dent had learned the duel was to be fought with military sabers such as the ones he had already wielded. Thank the Lord for small favors.

"I take it this Dercov is not what you would call a graceful swordsman?"

"Far from it," the skymarshal agreed. "He uses his sword like a chopping axe."

Dent looked at his three allies and grinned. "Well, it seems I do have a chance."

"Just remember, Gideon," Cloud finished. "Dercov has had many such duels in the past. That he is still with us attest to his prowess. Do not for a second forget that."

A palace servant arrived to announce it was time to take the field. In this instance, the venue had been set for the public park in which they had landed the previous day. It was Althea’s wishes that as many of Candlemar’s populace attend as was physically possible. Ergo the choice of the meadow.

Grandstands had been constructed overnight for the royal family and visiting dignitaries. As Dent and his friends marched over the connecting bridge, they could see that those seats were filled to capacity. As was every available standing room around an open area in front of the rising rows of padded seats. Cloud nodded that the bare patch would be the makeshift arena for the duel.

A gaudy canopy in the patriotic hues of Meland, stretched out over the top viewing box in which sat Princess Althea, Prince Arkurn and the remaining three members of the ruling family. Seated before the siblings in a lower level was the Grand Vizier. Dent had gotten only a passing glimpse of the tall, imposing man the day before.

"What’s the procedure?" Dent inquired as they came to a stop in front of the open ground. Before anyone could answer him, Dercov appeared from the press of bodies opposite. He was accompanied by several junior officers. Like Dent, he was attired in traditional Meland fighting togs: sandals, leather kilt and a loose, sleeveless tunic. About his wrist he wore leather bands. Each champion wore a sheathed sword affixed to their belts.

Dercov spotted Dent and smiled, the jagged scar on his face heightened in visibility by the grimace.

"Wait for Vizier Gomer to rise," Romaine instructed. "He will call you before the royals and you just take it from there."

"Okay, sounds easy enough."

"Good luck, my boy." Romaine took Gideon’s hand and shook it heartily. "I’ll be praying for you."

"Thanks. Pray hard."

Trumpets blared and suddenly everyone was hush. Dent looked up to see the royal-family counselor rise up and stretch forth his hands.

"People of Meland," began Vizier Gomer, his deep, clear voice carrying over the assembled masses. "A challenge has been made to our laws of royal ascendancy. We have come here, to this place and time, to answer that challenge."

He twisted about and addressed the siblings. "Who claims the throne of Meland?"

"I do," Althea sang out as she got to her feet. "Althea of the House Corveir." She was stunning in a silver gown dotted with red and blue jewels, her hair tied up in a formal-looking bun.

"And who challenges this person?"

"I do," Arkurn, also clothed fine garments, shouted with fierceness. "Arkurn of the House Corveir."

The Grand Vizier returned his gaze on the crowd. "You have heard the claim and the challenge. Now who will champion their causes?"

At that, Kell Dercov stepped forward and proceeded to the edge of the grandstand. Prof.Romaine nudged Gideon and he mirrored the other man’s motion, coming to a position a few feet distant.

Dercov raised his right arm, hand in a fist and called out, "I champion the cause of Prince Arkurn."

Vizier Gomer acknowledge him with a simple bow and then it was Gideon’s turn. He quickly mimicked the fist salute and made his own declaration for all to hear. "I champion the cause of Princess Althea, the true heir to the throne."

A spontaneous cheer rose up from the loyal assemblage only to be squelched by an immediate frown on the vizier’s thin, horse-like face. "We have come here to let the contest decide that very issue. The gods will say."

To the people he raised his arms once again. "People of Meland, you have heard the claims and the champions have come forth. Now, let justice be done according to our traditions and may Tober bless the righteous in this combat.

"The two champions will take their places at the middle of the field and salute each other."

Dercov did a smart about face and marched the ten yards to the spot indicated. Dent was right behind him, but keeping a healthy space between them. When Dercov, who was a good six inches taller, turned to face him and withdrew his blade, the earthman did likewise.

Dercov and Dent stood ten feet apart, sword points aimed at each other’s hearts.

Dent could feel his pulse beginning to race. Now what happens?

Vizier Gomer clapped his hands and cried out, "Begin!"

Just like that, Kell Dercov screamed and charged. Gideon back-stepped and twisted to his right as Dercov’s sword came whistling down to where his head had been. Even missing, the cutting edge kissed his left arm slightly and he felt the sting of its slice. A blood line appeared above his elbow and dozens of voices gasped in horror.

Hell, that was too fast! He continued moving around Dercov, trying to keep his composure and balance at the same time. Like a wild animal, the seasoned skymarshal didn’t let up for a second and came at him a second time, blade high over his twisted face.

Again Dent moved back and around. His ankle twisted and he almost tripped himself. Angry with his constant retreating, he gritted his teeth and planted both his feet. Enough with the cowering routine! There would be no more running away. Let the bastard come!

Which was exactly what Dercov did, without the slightest moment of hesitation. Cloud had been right, the man knew only one strategy. Attack! Attack! Attack! It was the exact same lunge and overhead swing. All accompanied by that awful, blood-curdling yell. Standing his ground, Dent whipped up his sword, caught the big man’s cutting edge and deflected the blow up and away.

They were nose to nose. Dercov’s maddening eyes blinked with a rage that equaled Dent’s own mask of determination. The unstoppable force had just encountered the immovable object. Dercov was momentarily confused. No one had ever withstood his onslaughts before. Then, before he could solve the enigma, the sweating black man smashed his forehead into his face hard. Dercov’s nose was crushed and he bellowed in agony.

Clumsily he tried to fall back, his free hand going up to assay his bloody nose. Dent pulled his sword back and then dropping to one knee drove the point through Dercov’s middle and skewered him.

A dazed expression washed over the grizzled gladiator, his hand dropped from his ruined face and he looked down at the sword sticking out of his stomach. His eyes met Dent’s in disbelief just as Gideon yanked his blade free.

The crowds went wild as Kell Dercov fell to his knees clutching his open belly and then with a death rattle emanating from his mouth, collapsed dead on the ground.

Dent stood looking down at him, his own body suddenly weak from the life and death struggle he had just survived. He looked around at the people, all yelling and cheering, the smiles wide on their faces and then he raised his sword high into the air.

"ALTHEA!" The multitudes chanted. "LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!"

In her box seat, the princess remained calm and serene. Slowly she rose to her feet, hands relaxed at her side. Soon everyone in the stands was up waiting for the next act to play itself out.

"Your champion has won, Princess," Gomer spoke matter-of-factly. "The victory is yours. You are the heir to the throne of Meland."

At that several soldiers of the Royal Cadre, who had been stationed behind the royal family, rushed down and surrounded Prince Arkurn. He ignored them stoically as he awaited his sister’s judgment.

"Thank you, Grand Vizier," Althea spoke. "Justice has been served in blood. Now it must be ended in banishment."

She turned to her brother and the soldiers. "You are from this day forward exiled. If you ever return to this land, you will be executed."

Arkurn bowed at the waist and smiled. "Farewell, sister dear. Until we meet again."

Althea pointed to the sergeant of the guards. "He is to be taken to the docks immediately, put on a ship and escorted off Meland. Where he goes is his business."

The sergeant saluted and then, with his squad, ushered the would-be usurper out of the viewing box.

Gomer addressed Althea with a satisfied smirk. "Your coronation awaits, my lady."

"Of course, Grand Vizier, but first there is a champion to be rewarded. Allow me your indulgence a little while more."

Having said that, the princess hoisted up the hem of her flowing gown and recklessly made her way down the narrow steps to the bottom. There she pushed past other Royal Cadre and well-wishers to find Dent. Surrounded by Prof. Romaine, Skymarshal Cloud and Lt. Tand, Gideon was being congratulated by his friends and strangers. Dercov’s body was carried away by sailors from his ship. He would be given a military funeral complete with honors.

"Gideon," Althea called out to be heard over the excited audience pushing in around them.

He saw her coming and knew what he had to do. Had known since seeing the deceased Parnoh Sital perform the oath. He went to one knee and offered his blade handle first.

Althea was taken aback. So thrilled by his victory on her behalf, she was unprepared for what Gideon now offered.

She accepted the blade even as he took its point and ran it over his palm. The blood flowed.

"I, Gideon Dent, now swear on the blood that runs through my veins, that all of me, body and soul, belongs to you, Queen Althea of the House Corveir. That until the day I die, I shall be your champion."

Tears welled up in Althea’s eyes and once again the exuberant audience roared their approval. She brushed away the errant tears with her scarf and tapped Gideon on the arm with the sword.

"Rise, Gideon Dent, my magnificent champion." As Dent complied with her command, the soon-to-be ruler turned to the happy faces of her subjects and in a much louder voice proclaimed, "My people, I now give you the warrior Gideon Dent, Skymarshal of Meland!"

End Of Chapter Nine