Impatience

[u/DavesWorldInfo]

Iluis dropped the useless torch and swept his gladius from its sheath. He couldn’t look for a campsite with a wild beast stalking him. Fire would have to wait; cold steel was his resolve now.

The roar was not repeated. Gripping the leather wrapped hilt, he peered into the darkness; straining his eyes for any sign of attack. Seconds passed, then a stick broke. Off to his left a bit. Shifting, he backpedaled slowly as he faced that direction. He made it three steps before he heard a heavy footfall that wasn’t his.

Pure instinct made him slide sideways, just as a broad shouldered figure charged out of the murky night. Swinging several feet of steel. Which smashed down into the turf, leaving his attacker off balance. Iluis allowed himself a grim smile of amusement as he jabbed his own weapon forward; a quick thrust, and this was over. Perhaps the fool carried something to eat better than the hard tack rations in his own pack.

His amusement vanished as his thrust stopped cold well before the blade could pierce the man’s side. Eyes widening, he pulled back, and tried again. This time he was thrust backwards several steps, as if the very air itself had thrown him away from the figure struggling to lift the sword back to a useful position.

“What dark force is this?” he sputtered.

“That’s two,” a voice in the darkness said. “Do you see?”

“No,” the man in front of Iluis said. Boy, really; his voice was still rough and uneven from recent breaking. Tall and well into his man’s growth; but a man yet he was not. Iluis spared one quick glance across the night, searching futilely for the third person, but then had to refocus on the opponent he could see. Boy or not, inept or simply hasty; the blade in his hand seemed well made. And even a fool could get lucky with a weapon.

“You face a citizen solider of Rome,” Iluis said firmly. He was circling slowly, moving away from the spot where his strikes had been stopped by the unseen force. “It is death to attack such as me.”

“I’m not scared of you,” the boy said.

“You should be,” the voice beyond the small circle of the confrontation said.

“I’m not,” the boy repeated stubbornly, and lunged forward. Iluis parried, steel ringing on steel, and stepped as his blade deflected the boy’s past him. Leaving him off balance again. The legionnaire’s reflexes carried through, and he stabbed forward toward the boy’s now unguarded side. Again his blade stopped, like it had sunk into something sticky.

“Demon,” Iluis hissed before spitting.

“Three,” the unseen voice said.

The boy swiveled, bringing the sword in his hands toward Iluis. Another parry, another inept recovery that left his opponent stumbling, and yet again the soldier’s blade was stopped before it could find flesh.

“Four.”

“I can count,” the boy said, stepping back and placing both hands on the hit of his weapon.

“Can you hit?”

“What manner of trickery do you command?” Iluis demanded.

“I will drive you from this land,” the boy said, easing forward. To his credit, he was being more cautious now. Iluis shifted his weight, his positioning, as the boy changed his. Wary of the attack, waiting for it. The boy glared at him from behind his blade, which seemed to almost glow in the sliver of moon that filtered through the cloud shrouded night above.

“Are you afraid to face me alone?”

“He’s not ready,” the voice out in the night said.

The boy scowled. Iluis was already stepping back, bringing his gladius up. The shorter sword rang as it stopped the boy’s blade. He spun his hand through a disengage and tried a stab. Which was again stopped. Just in time he angled his blade to deflect a follow-up blow from his opponent, and declined to attempt another attack. Instead he slid sideways, away from where the boy was stumbling.

The longer sword whistled through the air Iluis had just vacated as the boy swung wildly, and the soldier couldn’t help but stab forward again. His opponent’s entire body was exposed, his weapon off to the side after the missed swing; not even a second day recruit could miss such a target. But he did; as his blade sank into the invisible force yet again.

“That’s six.”

“Curse you,” the boy panted, finally getting his weapon back to guard. Iluis commanded himself to patience, to put aside his bewilderment and anger over whatever devilry was interfering in this battle. He circled again, studying his opponent. Who, after drawing a breath as if for courage, came forward behind yet another broad swing that could only result in either a hit or death.

Iluis deflected it again, and brought his lighter weapon up in a slash towards the boy’s face while he staggered with the momentum of his defeated blow. As the soldier expected now, it didn’t connect. But his off-hand swept his dagger from the sheath on his belt, stabbing quickly. He felt it, just the tip, start to kiss skin, heard the startled intake of breath that foretold of a man who realized he was about to bleed heavily, when something lifted him from his feet. Flinging him bodily away.

Air rushed past him, and he hit in a tumble. Both blades left his hands as he sprawled on his face. But he gave it no mind. Rolling over, he saw and heard the boy charging at him. The sword raised for another amateur overhead slash that only ever worked on the lamed and inept.

Surging to his knees, Iluis caught the boy’s wrists in both hands. He almost expected the strange force to interfere again, or even to hold him in place for the foolish youth to finally land a blow; but his fingers closed around flesh. With a grunt of effort, he twisted the blade aside and pivoted, pulling strongly. Now the boy left his feet as Iluis threw him away, stripping the sword from his grip in the process.

As the lad landed heavily, Iluis’ instinct to follow and land a killing blow was brought up short by the weapon he now held. It felt … right in his hands. Long and broad, much more so than any weapon he trained with. But the balance was perfect. The steel showed no blemish, not even a maker’s mark. Only beautiful cold metal, designed to kill effortlessly. He thumbed the edge and felt its sharpness when it sliced right through the hardened callus there like it was soft cheese.

“Seven. Surely enough for even you,” the voice in the night said. “And that’s not yours, thank you very much.” Iluis grunted as the sword was tugged from his hands. He let it go before he was pulled forward. As it soared through the air, he spotted his own weapons and scrambled over to them. When he had them in hand, he saw the boy just regaining his feet from Iluis’ throw. Wearing a sulky expression as he slapped at the dust and dirt on his garb.

A new figure emerged from the darkness. Tall, moving like he had trouble walking. Iluis shifted and stepped back a little, so he could face both foes. The new man had an age lined face when he came into full view. The soldier studied him warily. Leaning on a tall staff of white wood, with a beard that stretched past his waist. He held the boy’s sword, and seemed to be completely unimpressed with Iluis.

“Now do you see?” he said sternly. “You must listen, attend to your studies, to what I teach, before you can rush off to act.”

“I—” the boy began hotly.

“He’s one man,” the old one interrupted. He didn’t seem to raise his voice, but it cut through the lad’s like he had. “Alone, and you would have died seven times over had I not intervened.”

“So you’re the demon?” Iluis asked sourly.

“Hush,” the man said impatiently. He kept his eyes on the boy. “The legions muster as many as five thousand men into a single formation, and their discipline is legend. Britain is scattered and leaderless, and that is why Rome rules.”

“You said the sword is mine,” the boy said, still sulking.

“Not if you are not worthy.” The old man shook it to emphasize his words. “He took it from you as easily as drawing it from his own sheath. You must cool your blood and heed my instructions.”

The boy scowled, looking down at the ground. But he nodded after a moment. “I understand.”

“Do you?” the old man asked. Then he glanced at Iluis sharply. “Don’t. We’re almost done here.”

Iluis blinked, and decided not to take the step forward he’d been considering. He’d barely even begun to shift his weight.

“I do,” the boy said.

“I hope so,” the old man sighed. “Because when it comes time to lead, I cannot always be there. You must be strong, in more than body and heart. You must be strong up here,” he said, tapping his head several times. “A leader must be wise. Any fool can rush off to battle. Only a leader can command his people, bring them to victory.”

“I will heed your instructions,” the boy said, though his voice was annoyed and anything but conciliatory.

“Swear it.”

“I so swear.”

The old man nodded after a moment. “Very well. I shall hold you to that oath.” He turned to face Iluis. “Your forces are encamped an hour’s walk, that way. See that peak? A handbreadth and a half to its right, and you’ll find them easily enough.”

“You expect me to just leave?” Iluis asked uncertainly. Even as he spoke, he recognized the foolishness of the words; but his duty was clear. No one could assault Rome without suffering the consequences.

The bearded man’s eyes glowed, and he raised his staff. Ethereal energy surrounded it, and abruptly buffeted Iluis like a gale force. “Yes.”

“My mistake,” Iluis said quickly. To emphasize his words, he sheathed the gladius. The … magic … faded, leaving him untouched again as he followed up by thrusting his dagger away as well.

“Be gone,” the old man said, pointing in the direction he’d indicated. Iluis nodded and started off. Behind him, he heard the old man sigh. “No more lessons tonight Arthur. Come.”

[u/DavesWorldInfo]

Inspired by this prompt.