Paragon of Destruction

The bald Elder looked at Brightblade uncomfortably. Just moments earlier, he had behaved as if he was the Elders’ ruler, but now, his scarred face had gone slightly pale.

"Lady Dao," he said in a fearful tone, "you intend to challenge all three of us to duels?" He sighed regretfully. "There is no need to go that far. This matter is a simple misunderstanding. As teachers, we were too slow in recognizing our apprentices’ misdeeds."

"Indeed," Elder Danae interjected, her forced attempt at a humble expression as unnatural as it was insincere. "We were blinded by our faith in our students. And my last remaining apprentice offered me only lies — lies which I accepted despite my better judgment, my mind addled with the grief of losing the others."

She shook her head, then turned her eyes toward the adept who had accused Brightblade of killing his fellow students. "But now, I understand what really happened."

The thin young man barely had time to look surprised before his body was engulfed in fire. He screamed loudly as the flames consumed his flesh, the smell of burnt meat filling the hall as the Elders quietly looked on. His screams died quickly, however, and his charred corpse toppled to the ground a few breaths later.

Arran felt some pity as he looked at the adept’s smoldering remains. The young man had falsely accused both him and Brightblade, but it was doubtful that he’d had any choice in the matter. More likely, he was given orders he could not refuse, only to end up being executed for following them.

Yet his interest in the dead adept disappeared instantly when Brightblade spoke up.

"Roasting an adept will not undo the insults you have offered me," she said contemptuously. Then, with a trace of mockery in her tone, she added, "But there is no need for three duels. A single one will suffice — even together, I hardly think the three of you should pose much of a challenge."

Her words caused an immediate change in the bald Elder’s expression. Where he had looked humble and fearful just moments ago, his earlier haughty look now returned at once.

"If you insist on being unreasonable, then we have no choice but to accept your challenge." The man spoke confidently now, and it was hard to believe that he had been groveling just seconds earlier. "We will face each other tomorrow at midday."

"Then I suggest you do not waste this night," Brightblade replied. "It will be your last."

She spoke casually, as if she was discussing dinner plans, not even the slightest trace of concern to be heard in her voice.

The Matriarch, however, gave her a worried glance. "Are you certain of this? There is no shame in—"

"I am certain," Brightblade interrupted. "Tomorrow, the insults I have suffered will be addressed."

"Then it is decided," the Matriarch said, her tone regretful. Then, in a louder voice, she continued, "Tomorrow at midday, Elder Brightblade will face Elder Heran, Elder Danae, and Elder Straton in a duel sanctioned by the Valley, to resolve any enmity that exists between them. Inform your Houses that any member of the Shadowflame Society who so wishes is allowed to observe the duel and stand witness."

Though the Matriarch spoke in a somber voice, the talk of a duel brought glints of excitement to the eyes of more than a few of the Elders in the hall. While few of them were young and each held a venerable position within the Valley, the prospect of seeing powerful mages do battle apparently still made their hearts beat faster.

Arran, however, found himself concerned rather than excited.

Brightblade seemed confident, but the same held true for her opponents, and the Matriarch was visibly worried. And no wonder. How could facing three Elders alone be anything but dangerous, even for someone as powerful as Brightblade?

"Work on warding the dueling grounds will begin immediately," the Matriarch continued. "I myself shall oversee it. Each of the Houses present here is asked to select an observer, so that none may accuse the Valley of giving either side an unjust advantage."

It took the various Houses several minutes to choose representatives. The smaller Houses had an easy time of it, since many of them only had one or two Elders present, but the larger ones had short — albeit heated — discussions on the matter. It seemed that observing the preparations was considered an enviable thing, although Arran could not understand why.

A short while later, a sizable group of Elders had gathered around the dais, a representative from each House now standing there.

"Finally," the Matriarch went on, "I invite the opposing parties to each select two observers, as well."

The three Elders from the House of Seals chose first, quickly selecting two mages from among their own group. Arran didn’t like the look of either of them, though that had more to do with their allies than with their appearance — had he been strong enough, the entire group would have long joined the adept in the afterlife.

Next, it was Brightblade’s turn. There were no other members of the House of Swords present, but she cast a quick glance around the hall, then said without hesitation, "I would like to ask the House of Flames and the House of Shadows to observe on my behalf."

The hall had been filled with quiet whispers after the Matriarch asked the Houses to choose observers, but now, the spacious room instantly went silent once more, with stunned looks appearing on many of the Elders’ faces.

The House of Seals Elders looked scandalized, but before any of them could object, a crimson-robed man stepped forward — a House of Flames Elder. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with long hair and a short beard, both gray with just a few streaks of black remaining.

"I will observe on behalf of Lady Brightblade," he said in a harsh voice. "And I will ensure that no foul play will interfere with her victory." As the words left his mouth, he cast a hostile look at the three House of Seals Elders, a viciousness to his eyes that suggested he would have gladly fought them himself.

Arran blinked in surprise. He did not know about any relation between Brightblade and the House of Flames, but it seemed she could count at least one of their Elders as an ally. He had no time to consider the matter further, however, because a second voice sounded only a moment later.

"The House of Shadows remains neutral in this matter."

The voice came from a black-robed woman who had stepped out from the House of Shadows delegation. Her hair and eyes were as black as her robe, contrasting sharply with the unusual pallor of her ageless face.

"But," she continued, "I am willing to observe the preparations and guard against any mischief."

Brightblade gave her a brief nod in response, though her expression contained a hint of disappointment. Both of the Elders joined the group that had formed around the dais, but Brightblade wasn’t done yet.

"I suggest that the Matriarch’s apprentice be allowed to watch the preparations," she said. "It will benefit his studies, and serve as a first step toward repaying him for the attack and false accusations he has suffered."

The outraged looks among the House of Seals Elders suggested that this was no ordinary proposal, but the gray-haired mage from the House of Flames preempted any objections they might have.

"An excellent suggestion!" the man said in a loud voice. "The boy has suffered much at the hands of our Valley, and through no fault of his own. A glimpse of our secrets is the least we can offer in compensation. I shall take it upon myself to accompany him."

Brightblade offered the Elder a friendly smile — the first she had shown since they had entered the hall. "Then I believe everything is arranged," she said. "I shall take my leave and prepare for tomorrow’s duel."

Without any further words, she turned around and headed toward the exit.

The sudden departure left the hall in silence, but the Matriarch spoke a moment later, "As Elder Brightblade said, all arrangements have been made. Those of you chosen to observe the preparations, please remain here. All others are dismissed."

Dismissing over a hundred Elders proved more involved than that, however, and half an hour passed as various Elders approached the Matriarch to ask all sorts of questions. Most of these concerned Brightblade and Arran, yet others seemed completely unrelated to the situation.

The Matriarch answered the questions for a time, but eventually, even her ample patience reached its limit.

"Enough!" she said. "Any further questions can wait until after the duel. There is work to be done!"

As the hall slowly emptied, Arran looked at the Elders who remained, and saw that they had split into four groups. There was one group gathered around the Matriarch, another gathered around the two mages his enemies had chosen, and a third, larger one — the ones who remained neutral, he thought.

Yet a group had gathered around Arran himself, as well. Over half a dozen Elders stood surrounding him and the Elder from the House of Flames, alternating between chatting among themselves and casting hostile glances at the group led by the House of Seals mages.

While Arran was glad to have allies at his side, he found himself wondering just why they were there. Because impressive though Brightblade might be, he doubted that it was her charisma that had won them over.

Instead, it appeared they had inadvertently joined one of the Valley’s factions — or perhaps not so inadvertently, given how well Brightblade had planned out her actions. But while he had obviously become embroiled in the Valley’s politics, he had yet to find out his allies’ shared purpose.

His thoughts were interrupted by the Matriarch’s voice. "Let us depart," she called out. "We have less than a day to set up the wards for the duel, and achieving that will be no easy task."

She stepped down from the dais and headed toward the exit, several dozens of Elders following behind her. When they reached the antechamber, the Elders quickly passed instructions to their students and associates who still remained there, then hurried after the Matriarch.

The procession of Elders drew many looks as they passed through the House of Seals, and uncomfortably many of those were aimed at Arran. This was only natural — it was rare for an initiate to travel with even a single Elder, much less dozens of them — but it still made him uncomfortable.

From this moment on, he realized, what little anonymity he had left in the Valley would be a thing of the past. Whatever happened, he would be recognized wherever he went.

But that was a distant matter. Right now, his only real concern was the duel ahead. If Brightblade lost, unwanted fame would be the least of his worries.