The Peerless Karel Horvoska

I drew my sword. I had always intended to fight him here. I could only hope my gamble paid off, my prayers answered. This would be my last duel, one way or the other.
We assumed the salutation’s straight-backed posture, raised our blades to the sky, then leveled them at each other.
"To the death," he stated.
"To the death," I confirmed.
"Damn him to ... to ... goblin dung ... one of the layers of hell. Whichever-" I stumbled and fell forward onto the hill. " ... whichever is most torturous to cowards," I mumbled into the dirt. I took a drink from the Pitaxian wine bottle clenched in my fist.
I pulled myself toward a boulder at the top of the hill and rested against it. Gazing at the stars dizzied me, they were moving so fast. That cheater moved so much faster than I'd expected him to. It seemed his bragging was at least half true.
The vile coward!
The duel happened days ago. I'd challenged him to end the love triangle we'd found ourselves in. Whoever won was free to court the love of my life: Yalina, daughter of House Lencheska.
That damned Asberi Gorongi beat me, ME! The peerless Karel Horvoska! Blinding your opponent with sunlight–what a thuggish tactic. No true student of the Swordpact would have done something so dishonorable! No true Mivoni Suitor would have risked such disgrace!
Looking back at the way I'd come, I knew I could never return to Mivon. I intended to kill a man without following any of the Mivoni dueling rules. Indeed, I was going to break most of them. It would be ruled a murder, the penalty for which is, of course, execution. I'd been sober on the ride here. I'd weighed the consequences. It would be worth it.
I reminisced about Yalina. I'd miss her. I thought of her brilliant emerald eyes. Those radiant eyes I had admired for so long. They'd been so dull the day he'd taken her from me.
I heard horse hooves clopping toward me. It was time.
"Well, upsy-daisy," I grumbled. I stood shakily and placed my hand on the hilt of my single-bladed, gently curved weapon: a perfect example of an Aldori dueling sword.
"Karel? Karel? Is that you?!" The rider shouted. I steeled myself for his arrival.
I recognized that lilting baritone, majestic riding stance, and gallant demeanor. It was him. It was Gorongi.
"Yes, yes, it's me, Gorongi! Come to gloat? Or to humiliate me again?" I threw my free arm wide as if accepting his charge personally. The wine bottle slipped from my hand and thudded into the dirt. He reined his horse and dismounted, dusting off his leggings while holding a torch in his free hand. His horse wandered over to where mine was munching on some grass.
"What? No! I came to see if you were alright! You've been gone for days with no more than a note left behind, and here I find you on some unnatural hill praising the Drunk? Please, come back to Mivon. Yalina-"
"You taint her name by uttering it." The glare I threw at him could have melted his blade, yet he seemed unfazed.
I reviled him for the condescending pity glinting in his eyes. Glinting like his cheating blade.
He raised his hands sheepishly. "Sorry. Suitor Lencheska is worried about you. She was aghast when she heard you'd disappeared." He took a step toward me. I took two toward him, and placed my feet into fighting form.
"Liar!" I spat at him. "She was beaming when you claimed victory! She... she wouldn't have even noticed I was gone." I sighed. She'd seemed so happy. I knew she favored both of us, but the smile on her face when Gorongi won was too enthusiastic, too beautifully exuberant.
Yet her emerald eyes were dull. That told me everything I needed to know.
Gorongi and I had never been friends. Rivals, certainly, but we'd never been close. "Tell me your real purpose here, Gorongi." He looked at me like I was some injured animal.
"You refuse to accept I came here out of goodwill? That I, upon seeing an acquaintance and rival in pain I caused, wished to help him?" He wrinkled his brow and tilted his head just a bit overmuch.
"I do. I know everything, Gorongi. You're not here on behalf of Suitor Lencheska! You're here for you. You know what you did. You know you cheated. You know if I told people the truth, your good name would foul. You can't stand that idea, so you've come to silence me." With enough time, a priest devoted to the Father of Civilization could have dragged the truth out of him. Time would have given Gorongi time to flee, trapping Yalina with him.
He laughed a heroic laugh and put his hand to his hilt. "Karel, you sly dog, I knew you weren't totally oblivious! Well, apart from riding out into the middle of nowhere, where there'll be no witnesses. That was… well, idiotic. Come, now. Draw your sword. I may imminently become a murderer, but I'm still a Suitor. It simply wouldn't do to slay an unarmed boor. 'Self-defense against a vengeful second-rate duelist' sounds much better, don't you think?
I drew my sword. I had always intended to fight him here. I could only hope my gamble paid off, my prayers answered. This would be my last duel, one way or the other.
We assumed the salutation’s straight-backed posture, raised our blades to the sky, then leveled them at each other.
"To the death," he stated.
"To the death," I confirmed.
I closed the distance between us, looking for an opening. He left me none. I feinted and struck.
This story was originally published in Wayfinder, #15
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Art by Mike Lowe
He swept himself back, batting my sword away. "Foolish Karel. You're more drunk than I thought. Do you actually think you can defeat me?" Sinister shadows enveloped his sword hand as he taunted me. "You stand no chance. Surrender. Yalina is mine. You will die here, disgraced and alone in the wilderness. Give in to your fate."
The inky tendrils on his hand flowed into his sword, and he leaped at me with magical speed. He struck before I could blink, running me through. The shadows wormed their way into me like a thousand icy snakes.
He was right. He'd beaten me in the duel. He'd won Yalina's heart. To swordlords like us, the duel was everything, and I had lost.
I was a simple swordsman, no magus like he. I'd drunk myself into a stupor. It would be easier just to let him slay me. I had no chance. I had no hope.
"Hope," I mumbled to myself as his spell threatened to freeze my heart and soul. "Hope!" I whipped my head up and laughed, looking Gorongi straight in the eyes. He flinched, seeing the insanity there as I warred against his spell. "T-Tell me, Gorongi, what do hope, wine, and this hill have in common?"
He was confused, though his pride wouldn't let him show it. "Since you're about to die, I'll humor you: What do they have in common, Karel?"
"They're all sacred." I laughed. "And they're all part of my plan!" I coughed up blood and spat it on his shoes. "You just spilled the blood of a man brave enough to face certain death to free someone. The blood of that man, rife with wine, now lies on a hill sacred to Cayden Cailean, The Drunken Hero."
The ground beneath us began to shake. Behind me, up the hill, the earth erupted as the stones I'd rested against threw themselves into the air. They came back down with a booming crash, arranged into a stone feasting hall. The sounds of carousing were unhindered by the stone walls or wooden door. Warm and welcoming light poured from the windows.
"You've admitted all but your ultimate sin. Admit before the power of the Accidental God that you ensorcelled Yalina!" My voice filled with fury as I regained control. "I know her eyes. I've admired them for so many years, Gorongi. The most brilliant emerald I've ever seen. Why then, Gorongi, were they so muted, so sad, even as she smiled and ran to congratulate you? You'd warped her will with magic-just as you've failed to do with me."
The door opened behind me. My prayers had been answered. A fat and happy-looking minstrel appeared, noticed us, and frowned. He strolled down the hill and sniffed. He exhaled, and Gorongi flew back as if smacked by a troll.
Cayden Cailean's knight, Sir Luthier, had come.
The minstrel handed me a tankard he'd brought from the feasting hall, brimming with frothy ale. He clasped my shoulder, and my heart swelled with courage. I drank the ale and strength flooded my limbs. Gorongi's sword still pierced me, but I felt no pain as I stood and removed it. The wound on my chest closed.
"Yalina may be lost to me, but by the light of the Starstone, you won't control her."
I had dropped my sword when Gorongi impaled me, but his would do. I took the hilt in both hands and charged. Gorongi blanched and tried to flee. I returned his blade the same way he'd given it to me. Divine light exploded from the sword when I struck. He whimpered once, then died.
Sir Luthier ambled forward and waved his hand. Gorongi’s corpse transformed into a trellis of wine grapes. He might, at last, do some good now. The knight turned to me as I reclaimed my bloodless sword. "What will you do now, Karel?"
"If you don't mind, sir, I could really use another drink." I forced a smile weighed down by lost emeralds and lost love. He nodded and guided me inside.
For those unfamiliar with the Lost Omens setting, here is a glossary of terms listed in order of appearance:
Goblin: Short, razortoothed humanoids with oblong heads and bright red eyes. Seen as dangerous troublemakers, whose sense of “fun” usually means terror for everyone else.
Hell: A plane of existence ruled by devils, who use deceit and cleverly worded contracts to enslave the souls of mortals after death.
Coward: It means the same thing, but among the suitors of Mivon, there can be no greater insult.
Pitaxian: A demonym related to the nation of Pitax. Known for its wine.
Mivoni: Another demonym, related to the nation of Mivon.
Suitor: A gender-neutral title referring to the elite sword-duelists of Mivon.
The Father of Civilization: An epithet for Abadar, god of oaths, commerce, and law.
Cayden Cailean, The Drunken Hero: One of the very few gods who were mortal before their ascension. Supposedly, he took the impossibly arduous test to become a god on a drunken dare.
Starstone: The only magical relic capable of bestowing enough power to grant someone divinity. To swear by its light is to swear by divinity, aspiration, determination, and glory.