Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

He held a sword, and the glow of the lantern just sufficed to reveal a thick layer of grease coating the blade. When I saw it, I finally comprehended all that had eluded me before.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Not with the dead thing stepping out of the coffin, and my legs pinned. I struggled to free myself, and managed to drag my feet out from under the lid.

Just in time. Yshan’s sword flashed at my head, and I flung myself out of range. It was the only move that could have saved me, but it put the dead man between me and the doorway. Now, I had no choice but to fight.

I scrambled up and snatched for the sword at my side. Yshan cut at me, and I parried.

The impact jolted my arm, and his weapon nearly smashed through my guard. He was as unnaturally strong as I’d feared.

In other circumstances, wary of his might, I might have fought defensively. But if I hung back, it would give him the chance to cast spells, and I feared that even more than the force of his blows. So I attacked hard whenever I was able.

I drove my point into his chest, but it didn’t balk him even for an instant. Why should it, when he was already dead, his vital organs still and rotting? The only effect was to trap my blade. He whirled a backhand cut at my face. I ducked beneath it and yanked my sword free.

He cut down at my head. Still in a crouch, I just managed to parry, and once again, his stroke nearly hammered through my guard, almost broke my grip on the hilt of my blade.

But not quite, and I discerned that he’d struck with such ferocity as to shift himself off balance. I straightened up, feinted, deceived his awkward attempt at a parry, and slashed his one remaining eye from its socket.

He snarled like a beast, exposing yellow teeth and dark, oozing gums. But he didn’t falter as most any mortal creature would have done. Instead, he struck back immediately, and his aim was as accurate as before.

As I dodged, I thought, a hit to the vitals hadn’t stopped him, nor had blindness. What if nothing could? I struggled to quash the panic welling up in my mind.

I opened my guard a hair, praying that he’d think it an error, not the invitation, the trap, it truly was. That he’d make a particular indirect attack I’d noticed he favored. It seemed likely. It was a combination well suited to exploiting the seeming defect in my defense.

His arm extended, and I immediately stepped forward and to the side, without waiting to see where his blade was actually going. If I’d guessed wrong, it had an excellent chance of winding up in my guts.

But I hadn’t. He made the move I expected, I avoided it, and placed myself on his flank in the process, surprising him. Before he could pivot to threaten me anew, I gripped my hilt with both hands and cut with all my might.

I didn’t quite lop off his sword hand. But I shattered the wrist bones and left it hanging useless.

Yshan reached to shift his weapon to his off hand, but I was faster. I beat the greasy blade and knocked the hilt from his now-feeble grip. The sword clanked on the floor.

Even then, with his terrible strength and resistance to pain and injury, he might have gotten the better of me if he’d simply assailed me like a wrestler. But he hesitated, and I cut at his leg. My sword bit deep, he fell, and I attacked the same spot twice more, until I was certain I’d done enough damage to keep him from getting up.

Then I concentrated on his head, driving stroke after stroke into his skull while avoiding his flailing hand. Finally he collapsed and lay motionless.

I studied the mangled, seemingly inert carcass for a few heartbeats, then turned and strode toward the exit.

At my back, a harsh voice hissed rhyming words.

The patch of floor beneath me turned to soft muck, treacherous as quicksand. I sank to my knees in an instant, and as I floundered, Yshan began a second incantation, no doubt to finish me off while the ooze held me helpless.

I cast about, spied the open sarcophagus, and tossed my broadsword into it. Then I stretched out my arms, and, straining, succeeded in hooking my fingertips over the lip of the stone receptacle. I heaved with all my strength, and dragged myself up and out of the sucking slime. In the process, I noticed the tiara lying inside the coffin, not that I cared anymore.

I grabbed my sword and leaped at Yshan.

Some shapeless phosphorescent thing was rippling into full existence above him, but it vanished when I cut into his chin and silenced his conjuration. I finished removing his jaw, severed his head, cut the tongue out, and hacked off his fingers. Afterward, I still wasn’t certain he was altogether dead, but reasonably confident I’d deprived him of the ability to cast any more spells.

That should have been the end of it. But I hurried back the way I’d come because I feared it wasn’t.