Icarus Awakens

Under the watch of Murdon, and through the efforts of every leveled mortal present, the one thousand, two hundred and thirteen energized Sparkbats assaulting the remaining mortals in the Thormundz region were beaten back. The dread intelligence that had guided this battle with the fragment of itself above the surface of sleep submerged once more. It was disappointed, though ultimately indifferent. It had already seen to the demise of these mortals. It would take time for anyone other than the remnants of a long dead people to realize this, but it had spent the last of its available power very well.

…

Personally, there hadn’t been much Murdon could do against the sudden sparkbat strikes that had interrupted the potential battle between the Tyrant and himself. Unless he wanted to toss his ax to take down one or two, all he could employ were the precious anti-dragon strategies he’d formulated over the past month. That, or he could Jump all over the place and lose all tactical cohesion in the meantime.

Both options would be akin to using an ocean to drown a rat. Murdon was a melee specialist, weakness to flight came with the territory. Instead of bemoaning this, he’d leaned on his other specialty: command. Designating Daniel as the target of his freshly heightened Tactician feature was an obvious choice, and the Artificer had used the benefits to slaughter the monsters.

He’s did well, Lograve thought with an odd sadness.

That drew a response from Murdon. Are you sure we don’t have an Empathic Link?

Not in so many words. You were looking at him for longer than a second, and your head is swinging around faster than Gadriel’s sword. I don’t know if you did him a favor considering what the backlash does. I doubt Quala will thank you when she finally gets around to talking to him.

Hmm. The gallows humor of his friend didn’t change the situation. People were in danger. Children were in danger. Even the Tyrant was less important than them.

“Alost!” he shouted, verbal communication markedly worse than mental in the rain. There was no response.

I’ll go. Can’t have you wandering around and shaking your ax at them angrily. Tactical Intuition, or basic logic as Lograve sometimes called it, clued him in on what Murdon had wanted to do. The Knight had pointed out they hadn’t been as in sync before the bond, to which Lograve had snarkily attributed to him needing a boost to cognition to catch up.

Stay in our Telepathy range.

Obviously. Ice began to collect around Lograve as he used his feature. The rain brought a wealth of resources for him just as it brought the enemy. Lograve was also the only one dry, and he could also use ice underneath his feet to save him from the mud. Why not, if it didn’t cost any more mana?

Murdon thought ahead of this hunt as it ended. Not even a thousand sparkbats, energized though they were, would overwhelm the mortals gathered here. Deploying the remainder of the garrison was the best he could have done to minimize the loss of innocent life. Until the rain let up, there was no way to control his forces from afar. Losing that tight formation and the preparedness for the Tyrant’s forces was a heavy sacrifice. But if it saved lives in the end?

Gadriel would be key. Whatever the Hero would do would be distracting, that was a given. Murdon could use that time to untangle their forces and observe what he was up against. At the least, Heldren Storm needed to die. A consensus had been reached that he was the most likely candidate. Even Tlara had agreed eagerly, though if that was to his identity as the Tyrant or just his need to die, Murdon didn’t know.

He also didn’t know where Heldren was. The opposing group had been briefly visible every time lightning flashed, but not once had he seen the so called ‘Storm of Righteousness’. Heroes, he thought derisively. Of course, Heldren wasn’t one anymore, and that was the problem. Tyrant class evolution would have changed all of his powers. In most cases they would become stronger, although their nature wouldn’t necessarily be the same.

That’s why Murdon desperately hoped Gadriel wasn’t going to do what he thought he was going to. Even with all of his training and skill, the Hero was only level two and didn’t have any business taking that much of a risk.

…

A critical moment formed in the sodden aftermath. The peace formed through common strife was fading as many realized they were surrounded by enemies. Those of the Tyrant’s forces feared what Murdon would do to the civilians as the Commander’s men feared their use as hostages. Both sides tensed, sure of what was to come and sure the other knew this too.

With the slightest provocation, those on edge would strike at any they did not know as a friend. Chaos would spread, death following in its wake. A sword moving too quickly, the wrong look in someone’s eyes, it would be something simple to start the avalanche of destruction.

While he could not have anticipated it, the tense silence was exactly what Gadriel needed. “Hear me! I call for justice! I demand satisfaction!” With a heavy tone, he arrested the attention of those nearby, those in the center of the throng that had become of the two merged forces. Confusion and incredulity predominated, depending on who understood what Gadriel was saying.

“What are you doing?” Thera, one of the headmen of the Hero’s level, gathered herself first to respond. She leveled her wand at him. “This isn’t the time for glory-seeking! This-”

“This is the time to slaughter each other, moments after standing together as brethren?” Gadriel responded to the threat, leveling his morals against his opponent’s weapon. “I see each of you prepared to drive the life from your kin. Consider the innocent that are here! Those you would defile by your wanton acts of barbarity. I seek to end this violence by the blood of only one. I seek to right a history of whispered lies and treachery. I demand satisfaction!” Gadriel repeated, looking towards where the Tyrant’s army had come and the back of their formation. He hadn’t seen his quarry there, but neither was his guess wrong. “I call the detestable mockery of Hero, Heldren Storm, to a duel.” He looked down at the arm hidden by his shield and clenched his hand. “I stake upon this the very fate of our people! The Tyrant’s rule or that dictated by our custom. Let further blood not stain this drenched earth but that which would engineer our demise. Sir Storm! Reveal yourself, unless cowardice has taken your heart instead of darkness.”

No one moved. The air had only grown more tense, but the idea of someone else fighting for control of the situation was drastically more appealing to those battle-weary than taking up arms against people they’d known for years. Not Thera, Rodrick, or even the tense Murdon intervened as the calm stretched for a minute longer.

Then, Heldren appeared from the mass Gadriel stared at. He was the same man Daniel had seen at the bridge, still with his cape flowing in the breeze, carrying a sword and shield. It seemed impossible to think this man was now a Tyrant, but then again, if Murdon was right he’d been once since before they’d even met.

“On many levels, your request is inappropriate,” Heldren said calmly, layering skeptical inflection on his words. “You, certainly, do not speak for your side. How can I be assured these hastily-made terms will be honored?”

The collective attention turned to Murdon, standing by the few from Roost’s Peak who hadn’t charged to the aid of the villagers. He and Lograve looked at each other as a silent conversation was had. Murdon’s voice, still amplified by his helmet, easily reached those waiting for his response. “Gadriel has my authority in this matter.”

“But how am I to speak for these people?” Heldren asked arms held wide. “We are united solely to stop your Tyranny.”

“If it is their unified will that guides you, then I reiterate.” Gadriel turned to address the public as well. “Should one die to settle this discord or hundreds?”

Heldren spoke immediately in an attempt to quash the question. “Your offer, as generous as you would make it seem, is more of a risk than open combat. We vastly outnumber you and we surround you. Which of your side will even fight, knowing they harbor a Tyrant? Which of us would not, if only to escape the fate of enslavement?”

“There is a Tyrant here. You, Heldren Storm. Face me in defense of your honor, if there is any left within you.”

Unshaken by the insult, Heldren strode a short distance before replying. “You are one to speak of falling. Serving a Tyrant? I suppose that doesn’t go against that pathetic ideal you call a Heroic philosophy. Perhaps you feel you can usurp another of your betters with a cheap trick. He’s done this before, you know,” Heldren said slyly, also addressing the crowd. “Challenged a honorable man in Threst to a duel and not only used unjust methods to triumph, but inflicted permanent injury in the process. While I still refuse, I shall have you know trying that here will get you killed instead of exiled.” Gadriel’s grip on his sword tightened, his face growing slightly red as he narrowed his eyes, but he held his stance.

Heldren laughed when Gadriel didn’t take the bait. “Predictable. As entrenched as your will would seem, it is comically easy to unsettle you. You know, I recall a rumor you were quite taken with one of your former companions. A shame, both that she perished in the Upswell, and that she must have somehow learned of your past. Why else would she refuse your advances? What was her name? Ah, yes, Masi-“

“You are the Tyrant!” Gadriel snapped. “Confess your sins!”

Instantly, weapons were brought back to a readied position and one archer fired at Gadriel in response to the incantation. After the projectile was deflected by his shield, there were no more overt acts of aggression. The idea that open war could be avoided was too seductive for the worn down combatants to ignore.

Gadriel had eyes only on Heldren, who took his turn to freeze and lock eyes with the Hero. There was hatred in his eyes for the other Hero, but he did his best to keep it out of his voice. “As I suspected, one of your power evolutions has fortified your mind. Your wisdom should not be high enough to fully resist that ability. You are a Tyrant,” Gadriel proclaimed. “Face me! Surely you believe yourself my better despite your bluster.”

Heldren looked up and away from Gadriel and panning his gaze around. “I am no Tyrant. I merely find no reason to respond to baseless accusations, ability or not. Especially from you. As I have said, the risk is too-”

“I stake further, my identity as a Hero on this battle. Should I be defeated and spared, I will never again raise a sword.”

The bargaining made Heldren raise an eyebrow. “That does not change anything.”

“Further!” Gadriel continued, “I shall fight without expending mana. I will use no ability, and I will not heighten any of my features above their starting level.”

“How am I to know you haven’t already? And as I have said, I will not fight by your terms.”

“On my word as a Hero, I have not done so.” Both paused. After a few seconds of nothing happening, Heldren reluctantly nodded in confirmation. “Further! I will fight without the use of Flying Sword, though I shall still use the weapon itself. To you, I leave discretion in your choice of powers in this duel.”

Heldren nodded again, clearly considering. “As I have stated previously, I- er, my side of this has more to risk from this duel than from open combat. If you are willing to strip yourself of any advantage, then I may as well demand you fight without shield, armor, or sword.”

“No! From what I have deprived myself, this duel may only now be considered fair.” Heldren opened his mouth to respond to the affront, only for Gadriel to address the people again. “You have heard my offer! A duel, instead of a bloody battle. Heldren has put forth the claim he works on behalf of common intent. I ask, then, what is your will?”

For those from Hagain, the choice was simple. Easy, because it puts them at less risk, but also because of common knowledge. Everyone knew the Storm of Righteousness was the highest leveled Hero left in the region. Gadriel had minor fame, though it was tainted by the very rumors Heldren mentioned now. He was also one level under Heldren. The more observant noted an additional edge Heldren would carry in the battle beyond Gadriel’s self-imposed restrictions. That only reinforced the obvious answer.

“Duel!” The common cry started, first weakly and in variations until it was repeated amidst the crowd.

Heldren looked at the crowd calling for blood, looked up, sighed, and said to Gadriel, “It seems I have no choice. Tyrant or no, Murdon, I will hold you to your word. Perhaps if you honor the terms of this agreement and surrender, the people will find it in their hearts to grant you a merciful death. Though I speak not for them and make no promise.” Already people were widening the cleared space around Gadriel, and Heldren walked with squelching sounds across the sodden ground to the makeshift arena. “As for you, one who can barely qualify to share my class, you will get exactly what you have asked for.”

…

The two stood towards each other, nearly identical in all but facial features. Moderate armor, a sword, a shield, and a cape blowing in the breeze. For not the first time Gadriel reminded Daniel of a fighting game, making this a mirror match. Only, Gadriel had left himself at a severe disadvantage. How was he going to win a duel without magic, in a world with magic? Without a very useful boomerang sword power? At a level disadvantage, no less?

“What happens if that idiot loses?” Evalyn asked. From where he sat, injured, Thomas grunted in an annoyed response before glaring at Hunter. No one else reacted, as if answering the question would make the premise come to pass.

As each Hero continued to stare, those loyal to Murdon edged away from the others in a slow reformation of their lines. Several made moves to stop them until others of their side warded them off. No one wanted to fight if there was a chance to settle things with a duel. If that didn’t work? Heldren was right, Murdon was vastly outnumbered.

Another minute passed before Gadriel took a step forward. Immediately, a rush of mud and loose water shot towards him. Faster than the eye could move, Heldren was on the opposite side of Gadriel and ahead of the spray. It was all over. Daniel knew how that move worked. Or at least, he thought he did.

In the second after Heldren appeared behind him, the spray of water hit Gadriel as the Hero moved his shield. Though, not to save from being splashed. Instead, ringing steel resounded as the Heldren behind Gadriel vanished, and the Tyrant appeared in front of him with a sword bearing down. Up until that moment, the attack had been invisible.

“What was that?” Daniel asked.

“How should I know, Guy? Shut up and watch.”