Chapter 3: Three: Swords and Sacrifice

I blinked in the bright sunshine, squinting as I stepped outside. The long sword in my hand felt foreign, a weapon I had no clue how to wield. On my other arm, the round shield sagged, far heavier than I expected.

There had been three sets of armor to choose from: full plate that would leave me immobile, light leathers that offered little protection, and scale mail—heavy enough to feel secure but flexible enough to move in. I’d chosen the latter. Lira had helped me don it, gambeson included, and the touch of her small hands had given me the courage to keep going.

Not that I had much of a choice. I couldn’t exactly hide in the temple for the rest of my life – Drakos knew I was here. And going home? That would mean taking a one-in-a-quadrillion chance that Lira could get the portalling right.

Limited options.

But maybe I wasn’t powerless here. Maybe, by some grace of magic or sheer dumb luck, I’d unlocked something extraordinary. Maybe Lira’s magic had granted me something God-like, or maybe merely being from Earth, and not Corthos, might awaken some secret heretofore latent abilities. Like Superman.

If not, this would be the fastest duel in Valorah’s history.

The temple was shaped like a layered pyramid, its sides formed by staggered steps of marble, each one taller than me and tinged green with moss and algae, looked ancient and timeless. Ahead of me, a long stone staircase descended to a sandy courtyard, but the steps at least had been swept clean, as if it were regularly used. Navigating it was daunting enough in the weight of this armor, without having to worry about slippery moss beneath the steel-reinforced boots I wore.

The courtyard itself was flanked by two buildings, and even I could see the temple was constructed of different stone from a wholly separate era. Part of me wondered how it had come to be.

Ringing the courtyard on my left was a stable, intricate carvings of horses etched into its stone. Opposite stood a monastery—arched windows, cloistered walkways—a solemn, imposing structure. Both buildings ran up to the pyramid and curved inwards, blending into its lower layers and enclosing the complex.

The only way out was through the open gateway across the courtyard, taunting me with the illusion of escape.

It wasn’t a viable option. The courtyard was encircled by stands—temporary platforms with staggered, high benches like an amphitheater, and they were full of Norathil’s citizens.

Spontaneous cheers erupted as they noticed me, the sound building to a roar. I hadn’t known there’d be an audience. Oh well, it didn’t really make much difference.

From my perspective, the temple complex seemed less like a sanctuary and more like a prison with an arena built in.

Lira had said something about being on the outskirts of Norathil. From this height, I could see the city wall less than a mile away, with houses and buildings beyond. A single broad road stretched from the temple complex to the city, while in the distance, fields blended into forests.

If I needed any more proof that I wasn’t on Earth anymore, that stunning view was it. And I was stunned. I wasn’t sure how long I stopped at the top of those steps, but it had been a lot of shocks in a short space of time, and my usually keen intellect didn’t seem to want to function at full speed.

It took effort to ignore the unfamiliar scenery and roaring crowd, and focus instead on the sandy courtyard below. Which was conspicuously empty.

“Is he here?” I asked without turning around, my voice came quieter than I’d intended.

“Yes, my God. He’s been waiting since yesterday.”

“Call me Kaelan,” I muttered, feeling the weight of my mortality more than ever. After this, she could call me whatever she liked – I’d be dead.

“Of course, Kaelan. Forgive me.”

It seemed churlish to go out without a word to Lira. She’d done her best, after all. I turned to her, my stomach roiling. “Thank you ... for preparing me. I appreciate everything you’ve done.” The words felt hollow, but my mind was too focused on keeping the nausea down to say anything real.

She gave me a reassuring smile. She really was very beautiful. There were worse visions to see on the day I died.

I started slowly down the staircase. The scale mail wasn’t exactly agile, and if I slipped and fell from this height, it wouldn’t just be my pride I injured. My slow pace gave me time to think. To reflect on the foolishness of what I was about to do. On my utter lack of options. On my impending death.

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On the sliver of hope I clung to, that there might yet be some power that would manifest and save me.

I am a God, I told myself. Positive thinking had to help.

The Nigel of old was an atheist, but I – Kaelan – was a God.

I felt a rush of power, my nerves subsiding.

“Come out, Drakos!” I bellowed, my voice surprisingly strong and bold, ringing out above the noise of the crowd. “Come and meet your doom!”

The crowd hushed, staring in awe. Then they erupted again into roars and cheers.

I took another step. There was no sign of this Drakos. What were the chances he’d fled, rather than facing a God?

A man burst out of the monastery that edged the courtyard. No, not a man – a giant. Easily seven feet tall, though he seemed to loom larger. Dressed only in boots and leather trousers, his torso was bare. Muscles rippled in the sunlight, and dark hair matted his massive chest. In one hand, he held a sword nearly as long as I was tall; in the other, a shield the size of a table, banded with steel.

“At last!” Drakos shouted. “Come, Champion. Come and be killed!”

I swallowed, almost stumbling on the next step.

Drakos strode unhurriedly to the center of the courtyard, casually twirling his sword as he loosened up. He sneered as he waited for me.

I reached the bottom of the steps, fighting the urge to throw up. I stiffened my spine, lifted my heavy shield, and briefly considered whether it would be a good idea to swing my sword like Drakos.

Best not. I didn’t want to risk dropping it.

“Champion! Champion!” The crowd started chanting.

Drakos’ face darkened as he heard them. He threw back his head and roared, a sound so loud it made the crowd falter.

I took another pace, feeling the grit of the courtyard beneath my boots. Every sense was heightened, awash with adrenaline. The air smelled so fresh, unsullied by pollution. The sun beat down from high overhead, and beneath my armor, gambeson and leather trousers, sweat trickled over my skin.

My palm was slippery, and the sword was so damn heavy.

I took another step, but Drakos had tired of waiting.

The giant of a man broke into a run, his long strides devouring the space between us.

I tried to raise my shield and take a guard. The intent was to drop into something that might look like a readied crouch, but the shield was so heavy it was all I could do to stay upright.

Drakos roared again as he charged, his enormous sword lifted high. He brought it down in a brutal arc.

There was no subtlety in the move, and I lifted my sword to parry. But when our blades met, mine was batted aside like a twig.

His blade kept coming. Nothing stood in its way. The edge met the top of my head. I had a fleeting instant to realize how futile my chance had ever been, before his sword drove on down and through.

There was blinding pain — then nothing.

*

I was lying on something hard. It felt like stone.

Oh, fuck.

I opened my eyes. The marble ceiling of the temple was overhead, pillars ringing me, the torches still unlit. Sunlight streamed through the windows.

“My … my God?” Lira’s voice carried a note of fear I hadn’t heard before. “Are … are you well?”

I was alive. That was something, I supposed.

A surprise, for one.

Hadn’t Drakos killed me? Hadn’t his sword smashed mine aside and passed through my head, into my brain? That wasn’t the sort of thing one normally awoke from.

I could remember the feel of it, and the blinding pain. Mercifully, it hadn’t lasted long.

I reached a hand up. My head was still there, which was comforting. No injury, not even a scar.

“My God?”

That was getting irritating. “Call me Kaelan.”

“Yes, Kaelan.” She sounded relieved. “Are you well, then?”

No, I’m not fucking ‘well’. “I’m fine.” But incredibly pissed off. I was still disoriented by the whole dying thing. My mind was fixated on the memory of the pain, like the world’s worst hangover, even though the pain itself was gone too. It was unsettling, to put it mildly. “What happened?”

“Um … Drakos killed you.”

Yeah, that’s what I thought happened. “Why am I back here, then?”

“You’re a God.”

Hmm. So I did have God-like powers, after all. Immortality was pretty cool. Assuming it didn’t … run out.

I opened one eye and looked up at Lira, who was standing nearby, her beautiful face reflecting her anxiety. “Will I always come back to life if I’m killed?”

“Of course. You’re a God.” She paused, a pretty little crease appearing between her eyebrows. “Although … I didn’t know you could die.” She looked worried. “Did it hurt?”

Fuck yes it had hurt. But at least it had been over so fast.

“Not really.”

“Oh, good.” She smiled. “Are you ready to try again?”

I blinked up at her. “What?”

“Drakos is outside, waiting for you.”

“What?!” I sat up quickly. And crap, I was naked again. I covered myself, but not before Lira’s eyes had flicked down over my body.

“He’s waiting for you when you’re ready.” She paused, then added helpfully, “I retrieved your boots and sword and such.”

I sighed. I must’ve lost all my equipment when I died, given that I was once more naked. And now I had to go through all of it again. What other choice did I have?

I opted for the leather armor this time. The scale mail had been too heavy, and the shield was useless – I didn’t have the strength to wield it. But there was a rapier and a dagger, and that gave me some hope. Drakos had come in like a lumbering ox; maybe he was too big to be fast.

It was much easier to run down the steps in the lighter armor. Drakos was still standing on the sand, his large sword splashed red.

With my blood.

“Hmm,” Drakos grunted when he saw me. “That priestess is a powerful necromancer. You look almost alive.” He hefted his shield.

“I am alive, you bastard.” And he couldn’t kill me—not permanently, anyway. I hoped.

This time, I moved out to meet him, my lighter rapier held ready, my dagger poised in my off-hand. If I couldn’t parry his blows, I’d have to dodge. If Drakos wasn’t that fast, perhaps this was the way to win.

The first blow came in, and I danced back. But Drakos was fast. He took a step forward, easily brushed my rapier aside with the edge of his shield, and the point of his sword pierced my chest.

I barely time had time to gurgle on my own blood before the world went dark.