Soul Magic
Anticipation hung in the air, as the sparring arena gallery shelf filled with Drow eager to watch Tranadal’s duel, among them his sister and Xavan. Word had spread that Tranadal would face Juin-Hara in his last chance to prove his worth, a final duel to decide his fate. With his future at stake, anxiety thrummed through Tranadal’s veins even before discovering he had an audience: the additional witnesses only made his anxiety worse.
Standing upon a five-foot tall column in the middle of the sparring arena, Tranadal peered down at the weapon in his hands. Silvery scrawl reflected light as he rotated it, reminding him again of the enchantment Xavan had gifted Ichor. As with any duel, a sheath covered the sharpened edge of his blade, masking it from view. Xavan’s statement replayed in his head once again: The sparring sheath will fail. Concern dragged at his determination, threatening to cast his future in doubt. I will win. I will not become a producer. I am above such things.
With that thought fixed firmly in his head, resolve fortified, he prepared himself to fight.
As he lifted his gaze, Juin-Hara crossed the floor and effortlessly leapt upon another pedestal, ten strides from where he stood. To her right, Lorean stood ready, naginata in hand, blade covered.
Juin-Hara asked, “Are you prepared to fight, Applicant Tranadal?”
He nodded. “I am.”
“When we begin, the fight will continue until Lorean and I are both given a lethal blow or you have been hit just once. Remember, the Deep is filled with horrors that kill with but a touch. You cannot survive as a letalis unless you can prove yourself.”
“I understand.”
“The moment you leave your pedestal, we will attack.”
Tranadal gripped his naginata with both hands, set his jaw, and prepared himself. All fell quiet, the crowd fading into the background as the thumping of his heart filled his ears.
Leaping, he landed on a platform five strides away, creating distance between him and Juin-Hara. As expected, Lorean attacked, thrusting his staff toward Tranadal, who nimbly twisted out of the way. With an upswing, he knocked his opponent’s shaft away and leapt again, flipping through the air as Juin-Hara’s naginata swept below him. He landed on the arena floor and darted away, his opponents giving chase.
Tranadal rounded a tall pedestal, briefly blocking him from view. He stopped short and leapt high, back-flipping upon the pedestal, his naginata flying toward Lorean’s chest. At the last moment, Lorean dodged, the butt of Tranadal’s weapon clipping his shoulder. The impact, coupled with Lorean’s momentum, sent him spinning to the ground. Juin-Hara, rising up quickly, leapt, blade end slashing toward Tranadal in a wide arc, aimed at his exposed flank. Expecting it, Tranadal had already stepped off the pedestal edge, gravity taking him below the path of her weapon.
He landed on the arena floor and darted off, racing between pillars, pedestals, and rock shelves before reaching a set of stairs that rose to a dais. He ran up a full flight, stopping at the top, naginata ready. Lorean rushed him. Lunging, Tranadal thrust the butt end of his weapon toward Lorean, who dove sideways and landed a few strides away, rolling across the dais before coming up in a crouch. He then swiped his blade in a broad arc, trapping Tranadal between the stairs and a wall.
Climbing the staircase, Juin-Hara planted the butt of her shaft and leapt, vaulting herself, weapon whirling in a downward strike, straight toward Tranadal, forcing him to block lest he be sliced in two. Bracing himself, Tranadal met the mighty blow. The shafts struck with a loud clack, hers sliding off as she continued past him. He spun, blade end coming around as she landed, but Juin-Hara was ready, her naginata held upright to block the attack. When Tranadal’s blade met her shaft, the unimaginable happened.
The edge tore through the sheath, cleaved through the other weapon, and sliced across Juin-Hara’s midriff. Jaw gaping, she staggered backward, reaching for her stomach as a crimson streak appeared on her ashen skin, exposed by the slice in her fatigues. Shocked himself, Tranadal lowered his naginata, regret flooding in. Rather than attack him, Lorean ran to Juin-Hara’s side.
Tranadal’s naginata suddenly darkened, a near-black light arcing from it to Juin-Hara. She stiffened, eyes bulging, jaw dropped in a silent scream, and then collapsed. The dark light snapped back into Ichor. A voice rose within Tranadal’s mind, screaming for blood. It roared, his vision reddening, raw hatred filling him. In a flash, he lunged, his blade plunging through Lorean’s throat. Immediately, the naginata again blackened, its dark light enveloping Lorean and then withdrawing as the dead Drow collapsed in a heap.
Power, raw and unbridled, hummed through Ichor, filling Tranadal with rage. He raised it into the air, lifted his head, and bellowed. His voice trembled with energy, the cry lasting for a time before waning. He lowered the weapon and looked upon his foes. The rage subsided, replaced by horror.
Both bodies were withered, appearing dead for ages rather than seconds. Lorean’s throat was torn open; Juin-Hara’s torso, eviscerated.
“What have I done?” His own voice sounded distant, as though he was trapped in a dream turned nightmare.
He then recalled the crowd in the gallery. Turning, he found Xavan standing beside Dai-Seryn, the savant’s face emotionless while his sister’s eyes filled with tears and her hands covered her mouth. Three Coven members stood amid the crowd, including Sage Ovayan.
Ovayan pointed at Tranadal. “Arrest him for murder.” The ominous statement echoed across the open space.
“Wait,” Tranadal pleaded. “I didn’t mean to…”
The sage turned toward Xavan, “And these two as well.”
Xavan glowered at the elder singer. “On what charges?”
“Five hundred years have passed since soul magic last darkened the halls of Domus Argenti. A few remain alive to recognize it, myself included. For some time, I have suspected you may have used it with Arci-Aesha’s weapon, but I had no proof.” Ovayan pointed toward Tranadal. “This is proof, for his blade took more than their lives. It has captured their souls as well. For that, you have defied one of our most sacred laws.”
Tranadal looked down at his naginata, humming as if alive.
Guards poured into the arena, some clustering around Xavan and Dai-Seryn, the rest around Tranadal. He fell to his knees and stared into space, knowing his life was ruined. His selfish ambition had cost him everything. Perhaps worse, he had destroyed his sister’s life as well.