Chapter VII
Duel
One of the Nashvilly came round the next day, he was a tall man with dark hair down to his shoulders, a lithe looking fellow, with a robust stout frame and firm set eyes. He had the desire to test Achil’s swordsmanship, and invited him to a contest later that day. Achil thinking this request nothing more than pure innocent bravado, accepted and that afternoon made his way over to the amphitheatre where the contest was to be held. A crowd was waiting there in anticipation of the duel to come. The surrounding spectators seemed a little too hostile for Achil’s liking, which as he entered the arena made him feel instantly ill at ease, his shield was flung over his back and slowly he drew his sword. The man who had challenged Achil earlier was already in the arena, he wore a metal helmet and a breast plate made of hardened leather, his breeches were loose fitting and hung snugly over his boots, in one hand was a sword and the other a two headed axe; he spun round to face Achil, his eyes flashed with what appeared to be rage.
He jumped forward so quickly he caught Achil off guard. But Achil a seasoned combatant was fast enough to avoid the full extent of the blow, though the blade did graze his arm. That was an important lesson, in such a duel, strike first and strike fast but what was he doing in such a duel. The man moved with a speed he had only seen from the Witches of Haven Forest. He swung his sword one way and his axe the other in a windmill motion. It was all Achil could do to move, evade, duck and block each blow. His sword and axe landed hard against Achil‘s sword and shield.
“I heard your tale last night,” said the Man. “My sister left here desiring to see the outside world, after many years I went looking for her, I found she had been driven out of a hamlet near Haven forest, you know why, for saving a child’s life that should have died. Thinking she would not be able to return home she decided to live out her life in the forest. I caught up with her dead body and buried it yesterday. I am here to kill her killer.”
The man pushed Achil away and then moved forward purposefully, sword in one hand, axe in the other.
Achil crouched down low, shield now covering half his torso, his sword held firmly in his grip.
“It doesn’t sound like the same person I met,” said Achil. “Don’t you want to hear what really happened? I thought you people were meant to be an enlightened lot.”
The man lifted his sword and thrust it forward, Achil managed to block one blow with his shield, but in the next moment the man’s axe fell. Fortunately Achil was quick to react, deflecting the blow aside with his sword. Once more the man began circling looking for a weakness.
“Tell me how did you kill her. Did you strike her while she slept?”
“You're not listening, you’ve got the wrong man,” said Achil.
“You would say anything to avoid this situation,” growled the Man.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” shouted Achil. “So if I say you’re right I’m damned, and if I say you’re wrong I’m damned, that’s a great choice you’ve given me.”
“Well at least we can agree on one thing," sneered the man.
“What’s that?” cried Achil.
“You are damned,” replied the Man.
His voice was angry there was no masking his uncontrolled rage as his sword flashed in the morning light, the situation for Achil was becoming desperate. The man leapt forward knocking the shield from Achil’s grasp, he raised his axe ready to land the fatal blow. No one noticed the swift approach of a stranger.
There was a sudden flash of light which streaked passed Achil and hit the man in his chest throwing him to the floor. It was Nishga; she had apparently learnt to control her powers. Achil stood in the centre of the arena stunned by what was happening. Fortunately Nishga had previously packed what she could, ready for them to leave. Achil looked round; everybody was still rooted to where they stood motionless. The other man was frozen also just as he was about to land on his back. Nishga had used the Nashvillies Natural Time Motion to trap everyone else in a different place and time.
Nishga grabbed Achil, and pulled him out of the arena.
“I heard what was happening,” said Nishga. “And came as soon as I could. Lucky for me, I now understand the Nashvillies use of Time. I don’t know how long I can maintain my control though so we must leave immediately.”
“You think!” cried Achil.
He jumped on his horse. Nishga had also taken a horse for herself. The two of them quickly rode away from the scene. The further away they went the less control she had over the time line. Their horses carried them past streets where people stuck in time stood statuesque, one person had picked their child up and had playfully thrown her in the air and was still waiting to catch her. Two dogs had been caught in the act of fighting one another; one appeared to have turned to run but had been prevented from doing so by Nishga’s power. A child had flung himself off one of the bridges and remained motionless in mid-air, while his friends looked on, their faces trapped in a moment of joy. Even the river seemed to have ceased to run. These were the strange sites they were leaving behind them. Soon they were through the city gates and out into the open valley, they spurred their horses forward on to greater haste; their heading, the other side of the Crystal Mountains, where lay their salvation the other entrance to the very unusual world they had discovered. As they exited the pillars that marked the border to Nashvilly; Nishga knew that the people in the mist would already be free of her control and would be coming after them.
Achil seemed greatly relieved to be away, “I think we should make for the Megaliths of Druidier, if they come for us we should lose them amongst those ruins. Though I hope once they realise the whole story of what happened in Haven forest they will think twice about coming after us.”
Nishga looked doubtful, “I’m afraid they are so fearful of the outside world and outsiders from that world, that it isn’t difficult to predict how they will react.”
When they had first entered the valley it had been during the hours of dusk as they left dusk greeted them once more. It was as if they had spent no time in the valley at all. Above them in the night sky shone the same moon as when they had first entered the realm of the people of the mist.
As they rode Achil looked over at Nishga, there was something different about her appearance. She seemed older. That place had changed her. Only time would tell whether that change was for the better or what affect her new found abilities would have on her, and those that surrounded her.
They rode throughout the night the ground beneath them racing passed as they struggled to increase the distance between them and the dreaded Nashvilly. Time was now their enemy as they could not be sure how far the hand of the Nashvilly stretched, would their pursuers be relentless in the chase, breathless in their desire for revenge and savage in the hunt. Anxiety and fear fed apprehension had the man from the arena acted without the support of the council of elders. It was always the unknown element that caused the most distress. As they rode further into the night they began to calm. Achil would not let their pace slow although he felt that if the Nashvilly had truly been after them they would have had some inkling of it by then. By the morning there was still no sign that they were being followed, so they slowed and rested a short while. Achil noticed how quiet and far-off Nishga had become during their escape, not out of fear of their pursuers but for some other reason, and even now though safe, she still seemed lost in thought.
“Is everything okay?” asked Achil softly. “Since we left the Nashvilly you’ve barely said a word.”
Nishga put down her water bottle.
“It's just for the first time I didn’t feel alone,” replied Nishga. “The Nashvilly seemed to understand me; they were a people that appeared on the surface to be enlightened in so many ways. But when you were invited to that arena for what was clearly a sinister purpose, to satisfy one mans need for revenge. And all the others who were there that went to watch, were actually willing him on. No one wanted to hear an explanation. The Witch we encoun
tered in Haven forest was misusing her powers for her own pernicious ends, and most certainly was not his sister. That person who fought with you wanted someone to blame for her death. And since we were the strangers, the outsiders, he blamed us. He simply didn’t care to hear that we had nothing to do with it. All he cared about was that our clash with the Witches of Haven forest happened to coincide with the tale of what he thought he knew had happened to his sister. He was not going to let the facts get in the way of his belief. What sort of people are they that are unwilling to hear or understand the cause of something; but instead exact their own particular type of justice on someone who may be innocent of the offence in the first place.”
Achil now understood the dilemma and contradiction in Nishga‘s voice.
“What they were doing had nothing to do with justice,” said Achil. “And they have so much power that they don’t feel the need to question their actions and perhaps that’s the lesson Nishga; the more power you have the more you should question the use of that power. If not you cease to become that which tries to emulate the Gods and become something more sinister. Come let us put this business behind us and make our way to Druidier. They say in that wondrous place there are as many megaliths as there are stars in the night sky, and the standing stones are taller than Thavma Trees.”