Chapter 1 - The Execution

He sprung up and backwards, his head passing just under the blade as the chains wrenched him to a halt. His hands too were flung back and the blade, so fast, so heavy, struck the head of the stake, cleaving the ring and leaving just a cruel spike in the ground. Four lengths of chain also cracked under the blow, sending the stranger reeling onto his back.

Corym, at the last instant, saw his mistake. Too late to alter the blow, he cursed under his breath as he vowed to make this demon pay for his deception. As the stake splintered, the chains broken, he put his weight into the blade, pushing, twisting it out of the broken stones of the courtyard and at the demon' s legs. The spike on the rear side of the blade struck a blow to the shin, gouging into and tearing off the armored greave. He swung the axe up before him and sent the black iron clattering off into shadow.

A gasp went up from the string of guardsmen as they watched the bout, as they saw what lay under that black iron. For where the greave had been, shown smooth silver underneath. Neither leather, nor chain, nor flesh lay revealed behind that armor, but another suit, an impossible suit of bright metal.

The creature drew his legs under him and stood as Corym recovered from the attack. The black helm swiveled as those red orbs considered another flight, but then Corym was on him again. No mighty blow this time, but quick and deadly slashes came fluttering out. The stranger took a step backward, swinging the sundered chains before him to fend off the fury of Corym's attack. Again the agility of that fell creature had prevented Corym from doing his duty. Rage boiled in him. He gritted his teeth and locked those stern eyes on his quarry.

Round and round they battled, circling warily. Chain clattered on blade, stones splintered underfoot and the unmistakable clangor of melee rang out in that great yard. At some point Rodryk stepped forward, his blade singing as it drew free, but with a scowl and grunt Corym sent him back to his place in the circle. This deed was his to finish. He had trusted this demon and been brought low by his treachery. His duty had turned personal.

Before, the demon had only fought defensively, had evaded the blows of Justice or deflected them. But now things changed. Corym felt the change when a chain flicked towards his face, struck his helm. Now he was stepping back, blocking the blows of those chains more often than sending his own.

The guards became vocal. Now they shouted when the axe struck, cursed aloud the words Corym felt for the chains. The stranger fought in silence. Almost methodically he fought, defending with his one chained hand while lashing out with the other. Corym was a warrior of great renown. He lived by judging the skills of his enemy, and he soon began to see openings, chances where he might land a blow. With a feint, he swung low and ignoring the chain that lashed his arm, he brought the axe up to ring loud on the black breastplate. A dent, no more. It was crude, but effective armor. Lesser iron would have cracked at that strike.

But it sent the stranger back a step, and Corym took the chance, leaping, bringing the axe down before him. The stranger recovered and lifted his gauntleted hands, catching the haft of the axe as the blade brushed the curved top of his helm. The axe stopped as if hitting an anvil.