Gaius Darkspell and The Duel of Fates - Part 3

“Valkath the Inferno,” muttered Gaius, and as if on cue, the great beast flapped its wings and lit into the air as easily as a bird, or rather a bird the size of a large church or a castle owned by the king’s second cousin or someone of lesser importance who probably just rented the place because castle upkeep was so expensive and royalty just wasn’t what it used to be.

The flying inferno, most notorious of monsters, the Bane of Balustra, the Shadow of Sinestra, the Meddling Menace of Meadowfield, where cow tipping was now outlawed, crossed the gap between the two in the blink of an eye. His hind claws crashed to the ground across from Gaius with a resulting boom that shook the mountaintop, the great wings folding neatly behind the scintillating scores of red-black scales that marked Valkath the Inferno as a fire-breather. 

Gaius, his fingers itching to cast the spell he’d readied, watched as the monstrosity now no more than a few dozen yards away reared up into his most majestic pose and seemed to pull out from some unknown pocket or hidden compartment behind a shimmering scale or three a pair of exceptionally large reading glasses and place them on the end of its snout. And only then did the abomination drop down to all fours and extend its neck out toward the wizard, as if seeing him for the first time.

“Ah, Darksmell, there you are,” said Valkath, his voice melodious, but like a heavy bass in a bard quartet. “I swear I can’t see anything without my glasses nowadays. That said, I could smell you coming.”

Gaius, who’d traversed the terrors of the Four Continents, who’d climbed the world’s mightiest mountain, who’d withstood the destructive jabs of the note on the stairs, and who’d surpassed the Trial of a Thousand Steps, which is what he was going to call it from now on because that sounded cool, had had enough. His fingers were already stretched and ready for the first blow to be dealt. His mind was focused. His conscience was clear. And the hacking cough was taking a break for a minute, which was good because he’d forgotten how smoky a volcano caldera can be and he’d also forgotten his honeyed throat lozenges that Ilium always made him carry in his pack.

“Enough,” he growled, having, of course, had enough. “I’ve transcended all obstacles for this fated, as it were, moment. I’m ready for the final battle. I’m not here to bandy words with one such as you, but to deal you the worst blow you’ve ever been dealt. I’m the Chosen One as Fate, as it were, has said, and I am your doom.” He let that last word hang in the air, giving it a bunch of extra weight in the “ooooooo” part and dragging it out for effect.

He smiled his most practiced, menacing smile to let the monster know Gaius Darkspell was not about to waver. Let the beast know that this was its end, that he’d come to destroy it and claim victory. Let that be the first blow. And let him cower in fear. Or at least let it look good if this was being recorded.

Gaius waited the space of a breath and then reached into his robe and pulled out his most fearsome weapon yet: a magical deck of cards.

“Shall we, beast?” Gaius said, holding the cards steadfastly in front of him, the spellcasting words swirling in his head, ready to be unleashed. This was it. This was the moment.

“Well, I was hoping for a spot of tea first,” said Valkath, pointing a razor sharp claw the length of a medium-sized cow at a little tea kettle hanging on a stick over a fire, “but if you insist. Let’s get to it then. I’ve vanquished the rest of your pathetic party, and when I’m done with you, I shall reign supreme and have my pick of the spoils.”

“You’ll have nothing but memories of smoke and fire to keep you warm after this. Everyone will only remember you as Valkath the Inferior when I’m done here.”

Valkath chortled as only dragons can do, a little puff of smoke with each individual chortle, the rise and fall of the scaly belly in time with each, and each a low rumble like distant thunder. “We’ll see, wizard. Deal me your best then,” he said, and he drew back, spreading his feet apart and taking up a ready position.

‘Here it comes,’ thought Gaius. ‘The fated, as it were, moment. The moment I’ve lived my whole life for. The moment that I avenge all my friends. The moment that everyone will remember, and I hope they get my sideburns right when they make a statue of me somewhere.’

The ancient words ignited in his mind, and with a flick of his wrist, they suddenly crashed into place, twisting through the winding pathways to his mouth and synching with the intricate finger movements that he’d honed over a decade to deliver this perfect, this unfathomable, this rather clever spell. And as he spoke it, he felt the winds rise, roaring in his ears like a hurricane -- a Cat 1 hurricane, of course, because anything worse would have knocked over the tea kettle:

"Arcana's Whisper, Eldritch Twine,

Bind these cards with will of mine.

Slypher's dance and Draken's roar,

Awaken runes, secrets galore.

Zephyr's breath and Wixen's gleam,

Craft the magic, weave the dream.

Quantor's quill, and Phantix's flight,

Guide my hand, imbue with might.

Elix of old, and Nythmare's shade,

In this circle, fate is laid.

Frax’s gaze, Thinder's spark,

From realms beyond, to light from dark.

Summon now, with chant and charm,

Cards of power, shield from harm.

Unleash the deck, let magic flow,

By my command, let wonders show!"

The words poured forth like light spilling from his lips, as if his mouth was filled with embers, he himself somehow transformed into a dragon in human form, spewing fire. His fingers flashed across the magical deck he’d spent years crafting, each card a spell in and of itself, like a chain of fifty-two will-o’-the-wisps leading a man to his doom. They flew from his fingers, one by one, rocketing into the air, caught by the swirling hurricane force winds and twisting in a scintillating vortex between the two juggernauts.

When all the cards had been ripped from his palm, Gaius stepped back, his hands extended, watching the deck whip by until the moment came, and he clapped his hands together. The whole mountain shuddered as if Valkath himself had taken off and landed again, and Gaius smiled as the cards streaked towards the dragon like arrows, rocketing toward the great beast and changing, expanding in size and weight, transforming into razor-sharp sheets of metal.

Valkath roared as he reared back, foreclaws up to take on the impossible onslaught, his eyes wide from a magic he’d never witnessed, something he’d later admit was truly unique and perhaps the best card trick he’d ever seen. The dragon caught them with a dexterity that belied his size, one by one, each of them ringing out as metal met metal, the steel of the cards striking the iron of Valkath’s scaled claws. Thirteen in all. And then he sat back, ignoring the fading the tornado, and started sorting the cards as per his usual, carefully-crafted strategy.

Gaius smiled at his cards. He squatted on a rock near the teapot and noted the little cup of milk and the packets of fake sugar in a neat little tin beside it. Perfect setting for a final battle. Fate, as it were, couldn’t have planned it better, even if she’d noted time and again that she didn’t plan anything at all; it was simply, well, fate, as it were.

“Best two out of three, Darksmell?” said Valkath with a sneer that belied his confidence.

“Three out of five, according to tournament rules, vile beast.”

“That’s Valkath the Victorious to you, Sir Farts-A-Lot. Oh yeah, I’ve heard about you, and I’m telling you that when I win this contest and do the remodeling I have in mind to do downstairs, the Particularly Important Persons parties that I’ll be throwing, now that I’m a member, are not going to be full of stinky people.”

“I can’t believe they let you in. It’s very exclusive. Oh, and you go first. I dealt.”

“It’s fate, as it were,” said Valkath, who stared at his opponent, then back at his cards, then at his opponent again. “Do you have any….threes?”

“Her again? I’m definitely going to complain. Like, if this tournament is so damned special, why are there no snacks?” Gaius looked at the tea kettle again as it began to hiss. “Oh, no threes. Go fish.”

“Well, I for one make the best Dragon’s Breath Chili Bites. You’ll have to see, unless Ilium doesn’t let you near them,” said the dragon and drew from the central pile and puffed out a little puff of smoke from his beastly snout.

“We’ll see. She’s still a little pissed that she lost to you last week, and she’s currently not speaking to anyone. She gets like that sometimes, but when I defeat you and become the Champion of the Four Continents, she’ll come around. Um, got any fours?”

“Ha, fool! Go fish,” said Valkath and looked up at the sky. “What a lovely sunset. Perfect time for the final battle. And The World’s End is the perfect place.”

“Indeed,” said Gaius, trying to tamper down his glee as he pulled a four from the deck. “Indeed it is.”