Part 2 of The Dragon's Riddle
From all parts of the cavern, a voice rang out:
Sword in hand, oh mortal flesh,
Take your stand, or death caress.
From the waterfall in the back of the cave emerged a man of water, solidifying into the flesh of a warrior armed with a short sword in each hand. Moraye looked around assessing his arena. From the wall opposite him, a stone figure broke out, forming a warrior armed with a tall hammer. At the entrance, the wind swirled, forming a warrior from a twister. He stood armed with whip and javelin. Behind him was the dragon.
“Behold your foes,” said Leviathan. “This is Keln...” The thin swordsman bowed slightly. “Macculn...” The muscled hammerman nodded. “And Kerst.”
“Now, behold your sword.”
A sword balanced on edge at the cave’s center. Moraye’s heart raced. They would have him the moment he seized the sword.
This is how Sir Rollins died, Moraye thought. I sent him, and, now, here I am.
“Come, king,” mocked the dragon, as if reading his thoughts, “Surely you wouldn’t send your men to take on anything you would not be able to easily do yourself. So, why do you hesitate?”
Moraye breathed in sharply. He scanned his foes--the whip and javelin, the hammer, the swords. They awaited his move.
He leaped forward, and the warriors closed. Seizing the sword hilt, he dropped to his left hip sliding between the hammer-man and the swordsman while ducking the hammer. Jumping to his feet, Moraye blocked two blows from Keln over the back of his shoulders stroking his sword left then right. Turning around, he slashed Macculn’s nearest arm on a cross move then backed up to face the swordsman, keeping the others behind this opponent.
“Ha ha ha,” came the dragon’s deep laugh, but Moraye was too engrossed to even hear it.
The waterfall roared at his back. Focusing, Moraye stabbed for Keln’s chest then drew it back and high to block a raining blow. Keln blocked the thrust with his left and flashed an overhead blow with his right. Following through with his left, he gouged the king’s left shoulder. Startled a moment, the king attacked sweeping his sword in an ever-tightening circle surrounding Keln’s swords. Finishing with a stab to the middle and a side-to-side cut, Moraye sliced Keln’s arms to the bone. Keln’s arms fell limp as he took the sword to the heart, collapsing into a splash of water.
Dodging Macculn, Moraye faced the javelin and whip, again putting one opponent behind the other. Keeping his sword trained on the javelin, Moraye took the whip to his back. Moraye’s every move on Kerst ended with a stripe to his back. All too soon, Moraye’s back was covered with welts and blood. In desperation, he opened his arms, facing Kerst with his sword in his right hand and his left hand free. Seeing Moraye’s arms open, Kerst lashed again. Moraye ducked right, crouching low on his knee and holding his left arm high. The whip coiled around his forearm, biting the flesh. Jerking back, Moraye yanked Kerst forward and cut off the surprised warrior’s whipping arm. Drawing back his sword, Moraye grabbed the warrior’s javelin with his open hand. Pulling it across to his left, Moraye stabbed Kerst’s open side, and he vanished in a rush of air.
Macculn sprang into the rush of air swinging his hammer at Moraye’s sword to break it. Moraye leaped aside. The warrior moved in and swung. Moraye leaped again, stepping lightly and training his hand and sword on the warrior. After each blow, Macculn raised the hammer to a horizontal block where he started the next blow’s swing.
Pained and weary, Moraye gauged his foe. He cares little for his aim, Moraye thought, and seems to never tire. To give up would be fatal, but what can I do?
“You are spent, oh king,” Leviathan mocked. “One of your faithful knights would be useful now.”
“Useless spectator,” the king muttered to himself, focusing on his foe.
Gathering his strength, Moraye slid in front of Macculn. Leaning back on his forearm, he brought his feet up, blocking the next blow at his foe’s elbows. The hammer crashed beside his head. Rocking forward, Moraye thrust his sword deep into Macculn’s stomach. The warrior sucked air in tightly then fell back, grasping the sword. Eyes widening, he fell into a pile of rocks.
Look for the final part next week!
Copyright 2002, 1996 by M. D. McKinley. All rights reserved.
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