The Legend Of Eli Monpress (123 page)

Josef sailed through the air, tucking his feet instinctively toward where he thought the ground was. The world was a blur of sky and sand and the yelling crowd. Then he crashed into the dirt, and everything went black. For a second, Josef thought he was out. Then his breath came thundering back and he retched, coughing the gritty sand out of his mouth. He forced his eyes open, blinking
against the enormous black spots that danced over his vision. Across the arena he could see Sted walking forward, kicking broken swords out of his path.

With a gasp that was half sand, half air, Josef forced himself up. His hands raced over the arena floor, searching for his sword. After what felt like a year, his fingers found the warped hilt, and he brought the blade up, holding it between him and Sted as he forced himself to his feet. Overhead, he could see the bandits cheering, see Izo sitting on the edge of his balcony with a worried look on his face, but he couldn’t hear anything. The blow had left him temporarily deaf. He took another breath and forced himself to focus, to tighten his vision until there was no more crowd, no more sting from the cuts on his arms, no more tickle of blood dripping down his chest. There was only him, Sted, and the swords. When he had his center again, Josef held the warped blade steady as Sted began to charge.

“Powers,” Eli muttered. “Sted’s going to carve him into little slices if this keeps up much longer.”

“It is a difficult fight,” Tesset said. He was standing at the arena’s edge just like Nico and Eli, watching the fight with keen interest. “Liechten is the superior combatant, but so long as Sted keeps regenerating, he has the upper hand. Your swordsman will have to land a finishing blow soon or Sted will simply outlast him.”

Nico clenched her fists, her eyes glued on Josef as the combatants went around again. Tesset was right; Josef was bleeding freely from a dozen small cuts. His movements were still lightning fast, but Nico had been watching Josef closely since the moment she woke up
on the mountain, and she could see the telltale signs of exhaustion creeping in: the way his eyes narrowed even in shadow, the sloping set of his shoulders as he swung his swords, the slight hesitation when he jumped. The two men had been going full tilt for almost twenty minutes at this point, and while Sted seemed as ready as ever, Josef was pushing his limits.

“Let’s hope they finish it soon in any case,” Sparrow said, swinging Eli’s leash from side to side. “Fantastically entertaining as it is to watch two grown men try to kill each other, we’ve got a schedule to keep. What do you think you’re doing?”

This last bit was a shout as Eli suddenly dropped to his knees and reached down into the arena.

“Helping,” Eli said, grabbing the shoddy sword on the wall below him. “He’ll lose unless he can get a blade that will actually be able to finish Sted, and no one benefits if Josef loses.”

“Put that down!” Sparrow shouted, jerking Eli’s leash. But the rope unraveled in his hands, slipping off Eli’s neck with a snicker.

Eli looked over his shoulder and gave Sparrow a wide grin. “Don’t ever forget who you’re dealing with, bird boy. Next time, you should listen to Miranda.”

“Tesset!” Sparrow shouted. “Grab him!”

“No point,” Tesset said. “He’ll just get out again. Besides, if he was going to run, he wouldn’t have slipped the rope here where he’s cornered.”

“Excellent observation,” Eli said, nodding sagely as he sat down on the arena’s edge.

Sparrow had no answer. He just stood there, sputtering,
as Eli placed the warped sword in his lap. Nico leaned in to watch as Eli began knocking on the blade with his fist.

“You’d better wake up,” he shouted. “You’re missing everything!”

For a moment nothing happened. The sword, its uneven surface a mottled mix of gray and black, just lay there. Eli kept knocking, harder now, and shouted again. “You’re missing the chance of a lifetime!”

The sword rattled in his hand, and then, very slowly, a tiny voice said, “What?”

“At last,” Eli said. “I was beginning to worry you’d sleep right through it.”

“Right through what?” the sword said, sounding more alarmed.

“The fight of your life,” Eli said. “Look down in that arena. You’re going to be in the hands of the greatest swordsman in the world, the Master of the Heart of War itself!”

The sword’s anxiety began to wane. “The what?”

Eli rolled his eyes. “The greatest awakened blade ever created. Do you have any idea what an honor you’ve been selected for?”

He waited for an answer, but the sword remained silent. A second later, Nico realized it had fallen back asleep.

“Damn small spirits,” Eli grumbled, whacking the blade against the arena wall. “Come on, wake up.”

“What?” the sword said again.

Eli shook his head and tried a different approach.

“Are you ready?” he said, his voice brimming with excitement.

“Ready for what?”

“To fight,” Eli said. “You’re a sword. It’s your purpose.”

“I’m a sword?” The sword rolled back and forth in his hand. “Since when?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eli said, grabbing the sword by the hilt. “Now, I want you to go out there and give it your all.”

“Powers!” The sword rocked itself toward the arena. “Do you see what’s happening down there? Look at all those broken swords!”

“Failures,” Eli said. “Listen, everything depends on this. Don’t fail me. And don’t go back to sleep. You stay together, no matter what it takes, do you hear me?”

“I’m not going down there!” the sword shouted.

“Forget those other swords,” Eli shouted back. “They were weak. You’re different. You’re going to win!”

“I don’t want to win!” The sword was vibrating madly in Eli’s hand. “Get me out of here! I never asked to be a sword!”

“You have to fight,” Nico said. “That man is a demonseed.”

Eli and the sword both turned to stare at her. Nico shrank back, unsure if she’d overstepped her boundaries, but Josef was dying down there. She had to go on.

The sword wobbled uncertainly. “He doesn’t look like a demonseed to me.”

“He’s a special kind of seed,” she said, taking the sword from Eli, careful to keep her coat draped over her hands. “One made to hide from spirits and eat them when they’re not looking. That’s why the League can’t find him, and that’s why you have to stop it.”

“Me?” the sword said. “No, no, no. I don’t want to be eaten.”

“You’ll have a strong ally,” Nico said, pointing at Josef.
“The greatest swordsman in the world. But he needs a sword. You have to stand up to that demon. You have to fight!”

The sword didn’t answer. It sat there, trembling in her hand. Then, all at once, the trembling stopped. “Do it,” the sword said, its tiny voice suddenly calm and collected.

Nico stood, shouting Josef’s name as she rose. Across the arena, Josef looked up from his struggle against Sted’s hold. The moment he did, Nico threw the sword at him. It flew through the air in an unnaturally straight arc, screaming vengeance and death to the demon as it went. Josef caught the blade one-handed and dragged it across Sted’s human arm.

The sword cut like a razor, going straight and deep into Sted’s elbow. Sted screamed and lost his hold on Josef’s shoulder just long enough for the swordsman to spin away. Nico cheered, and beside her, Eli gawked, amazed.

“How did you know that would do it?”

Nico looked at him. “All spirits hate demons,” she said quietly. “Normally, the fear keeps all but the strongest of them from fighting. But Sted isn’t a wizard. He can’t open his spirit, and so the fear isn’t broadcast. Without the crippling fear, even small spirits are free to be heroes.”

Eli pursed his lips. “That’s actually quite brilliant.”

“Thank you,” Nico said, surprised, but all the good feelings from the compliment faded when she looked back at Josef, who was bracing for Sted’s next charge. “It won’t be enough, though. Even awake and trying its best, that sword can’t become something it’s not. It’s still pot metal, and Sted is still a demon.”

“Then we’ll just have to overwhelm him,” Eli said,
reaching down to grab two more swords from the arena wall. “I’ll wake them up; you get them going.”

Nico grinned wide. “Right.”

They worked quickly. Some swords didn’t want to fight, and Nico set them aside. Others, though, were ready from the moment Nico told them Sted was a demonseed. These she tossed to Josef. He caught each one, sticking it point down in the sand beside him. The first sword they’d thrown him was already whittled down to a sliver, but it was still fighting, slashing Sted like a blade five times its sharpness.

Sted ignored the swords at first, attacking Josef with single-minded purpose. But as the blades began to build up, and the blade in Josef’s hands refused to break like all the others, his focus began to shift.

“What?” he shouted, swiping at Josef’s head. “You think it matters that your swords aren’t snapping like rotten wood anymore?” He thrust his arm into the air, proudly displaying the gash that Josef had made earlier, which was now little more than a red line on his skin. “You can’t beat what you can’t kill, Liechten! Not without real power. Give up! You don’t have a hope without the Heart.”

But Josef just smiled, dodging his swipe neatly while catching the next sword Nico threw with one hand. He swung his swords, one fresh, one eaten to nothing but still holding on, and announced in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “The day I need the Heart to beat an amateur like you is the day I give up swordsmanship.”

Furious, Sted launched into a mad charge, and that was when Josef struck. He jumped out of the way and spun, bringing his swords down on the back of Sted’s neck so hard the larger man lurched forward, landing in the sand
with a grunt. As soon as he was down, Josef was on top of him, ramming sword after sword into his back. Sted bellowed in pain, but Josef only moved faster. He filled Sted up like a pincushion, using every sword Nico and Eli had woken for him. Nico could hear the blades all the way at the edge of the arena. They screamed at the demon, pressing down with all their might, turning to widen the wounds even as they pinned Sted to the sand.

Plunging the last sword down into Sted’s spine, Josef stepped back. He was panting, sweat and blood running down his sides, but his face was triumphant. Sted thrashed on the ground like a speared bull in front of him, the sand turning black as his blood ran down the swords. The blades hissed as he devoured them, but this was too much even for his healing abilities. His struggles grew weaker and weaker, and then, at last, they stopped.

The arena fell silent. The crowd stood still, staring in wonder at what had just happened. Down in the arena, Josef took a careful step forward, nudging Sted’s leg with his foot. The demonseed did not move, and a grin spread over Josef’s face.

“It’s finished,” he said, turning to Nico and Eli with his hands raised in victory.

A great cheer went up. Up in the wooden stands and the rooftops, the bandit crowds were falling over one another in their excitement. Money changed hands frantically as wagers were called in, and everyone was smiling, especially Nico. She stood on the edge of the arena, grinning like mad as Josef started toward them. But then, just as she moved to jump down and congratulate him, the Master spoke.

Nothing is over until I say it is.

As the words echoed in her head, a piercing scream shot through the air, and Sted ripped himself up. Josef whirled around and stopped cold, staring in horror as Sted pushed himself to his feet. Blood dripped from his body, sliding in red rivers over skin that was now totally black. He stumbled forward, his head up, his eyes too wide and bright as lanterns. When he opened his mouth, the sound that came out was no longer human at all.

“Not yet,” he said. “I will not lose.”

Even as the words tumbled from his black lips, Sted began to run. He lurched across the arena, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Despite his wounds, he ran faster with every step until he reached his goal. Sted slammed into the post that held the Heart of War. The wood groaned and crumpled under the demonseed’s pressure, and the Heart tumbled down, landing with a great crash on the sand below. Even before it hit, Josef was running toward his blade, but he was too late. Grinning around teeth that were suddenly too large and too sharp for any human mouth, Sted laid his hands, now both transformed into claws, on the blade, and the Heart of War began to scream.

T
he Heart’s scream reverberated through the air. Nico fell to her knees, slamming her hands over her ears as it hit her. Eli was down as well. She could see his lips moving as he shouted something, but she couldn’t hear anything except the enormous roar of the Heart of War as Sted’s claws dug into the black metal. Then, as quickly as it started, the sound stopped.

Nico looked up just in time to catch Sted’s surprised expression before the Heart of War erupted in a blinding flash of light. The blade did not change. It was still the same black, dented metal, and yet it shone like noon sun on fresh snow. Even as she saw the light, Nico heard another sound, like a whip snapping, and Sted flew backward. He rocketed through the air, blown backward by the Heart’s will, and landed with a bone-cracking crunch on the edge of the arena. The Heart was blown backward as well. It flipped through the air, whistling gracefully,
its light fading to a warm glow as it landed perfectly in Josef’s outstretched hand.