Crystal Servants by John M. Olsen

Author:John M. Olsen [Olsen, John M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Short stories
Publisher: John M. Olsen
Published: 2017-05-29T18:51:18+00:00

Adrian watched from his hiding place at the end of an alley as the noon bell rang in the distance. His assignment to make a note of the customers of a particular blacksmith was complete for the morning, and he signaled his replacement. His vagabond disguise itched, but he had no time to change before meeting Draken for lunch at the edge of the market.

It was trivial to slink along in the shadows out of everyone's view. The disguise made it even easier to blend in without his usual sash and clean clothing. To the common eye, he was one more bit of human refuse blowing along the street, something to avoid.

Draken had been unusually specific about lunch, asking to meet at fifteen minutes after the noon bell. Adrian hurried on his way, dodging people, horses, and handcarts on the street. One side-effect of working to be unseen was that he did all the work to avoid collisions. He backed off a little on his stealth as he picked up the pace.

Finally, he rounded the corner and gazed out upon the market and across to the far side to their favorite lunch spot. The quarter bell rang. He was late.

Across the market, Kallen Lightmore rode up, dismounted, and called out to Draken. People scattered as Draken stood to face him.

"I hear you don't like me, Draken," said the noble. "While that's any man's right, you've also insulted me. You said I am a blight upon my family and upon the kingdom. What does a simple foreigner like you know about nobles? For instance, do you know the rules of dueling?"

Lightmore drew out a glove and tossed it to the ground. "I choose rapiers, here and now, to the death." One of his men presented Draken with a lightweight rapier as Adrian slunk closer through the crowd that surged away from the danger.

A rapier? Lightmore had done his homework. They were barred from other weapons until the fight ended. Draken excelled at heavier blades where brute force helped. The finesse of the slender weapon was foreign to him. Lightmore's speed and fencing experience gave him the advantage. No wonder Lightmore had declared it to the death. Draken was doomed.

Draken stood and took the weapon in a proper fencing grip. "It figures you'd choose a foppish weapon. It makes me wonder what you're attempting to defend since you have neither honor nor manliness."

Draken had pulled all the stops and used his words as a weapon, scoring a verbal hit before the physical battle had begun.

Lightmore's face contorted in rage. Block and thrust. The weapons were a lot lighter than the wooden practice swords, but Draken kept it simple and followed his own teachings. "Not bad, but either you or your trainer is fond of shortcuts. Shamefully sloppy work."

Adrian fiddled with the dagger at his belt, itching to intervene but not daring. This was a formal duel, and it was entirely in Draken's hands.

Lightmore's jaw clenched as he lunged again, aiming the deadly tip at Draken's weakly defended left side.

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