City of Towers_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [89]
“Hello, Daine,” the twin said. “It seems we have some unfinished business.”
Take him down!” Daine cried to Pierce, but the warforged didn’t raise his bow. In fact, he didn’t move at all.
“I’m afraid that this is between you and I, Daine,” the twin said, standing up and walking toward him. “Your friends can’t help you.”
Turning to Lei, Daine saw that her body was completely rigid, her face devoid of expression. “What have you done to them?” he said, taking up a guard stance.
“It’s Monan, actually. I was lying last night. Greykell was right. We like doing that just to confuse people.”
He seemed unconcerned with Daine’s glittering blades. And with good reason. As Monan approached, Daine made a long lunge with his sword. The blow should have pierced Monan’s heart, but the twin moved with astonishing speed, swatting the blade aside with the palm of his left hand. Before Daine could react, Monan grabbed the blade with his left hand and struck at the hilt with his right, knocking it from Daine’s grasp.
While he was surprised by the changeling’s speed, Daine’s reflexes were honed by a lifetime of training. Even as he lost his sword, Daine thrust with his dagger. Monan struck the point of the dagger with the palm of his hand, and the blade—which could cut through steel as easily as cheese—came to a dead stop.
“You still don’t understand, do you?” Monan said. Daine managed to step back before the changeling could grab hold of the dagger. “None of this is really happening. Not physically.”
“What are you talking about?”
Monan smirked, the sadistic smile of a predator toying with his prey. “When you defeated my allies last night, I cast my spirit into your mind. This”—he gestured around them—” is dream and memory. Even now, you’re drooling on the cobblestones. In a few moments I’ll have disposed of you once and for all. I’ll use your body for as long as it suits my needs, and then I’ll leave you to rot in some madhouse.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Monan reached behind his back, and when his hand came back into view there was a sword in it—one Daine recognized in an instant. “Look what I’ve found here. Remember this, Daine? A gift from your grandfather. And look what you did to it.”
It had been a long time since Daine had really stopped to look at his grandfather’s sword—the damage to the blade and hilt, both intentional and accidental. He glanced at the blade, and in that moment, everything changed. He was in the courtyard of the family estate in Metrol. For a moment, it seemed he was a child again; the walls and doors towered over him. Then he realized that he had not changed. The buildings were simply oversized, scaled to the perceptions of a boy. His grandfather towered over him, tarnished sword in hand.
“Look what you’ve done,” he said, his voice filled with disappointment. “I believed in you. I knew you would uphold the legacy and the honor of my blood. And see what you have done with it.”
“Clever,” Daine said. “But I’ve fought your kind before.”
He made a quick thrust, dipping beneath the expected parry and darting forward, trying to close the distance between them. But even as he moved forward, his enemy slipped back. It was like trying to hit a ghost. The creature wearing his grandfather’s face laughed and raised his family sword.
“I’ve spent all day in your memories, Daine,” the changeling said. “I know how you fight. But it hardly matters. You can’t kill me with the idea of a sword. At best, you can force me into the shadows for a few more hours.”
Now it was Monan’s turn to go on the offensive, and even his movements were those of Daine’s grandfather, who had taught Daine the fundamental principles of defense. But this was a mistake. Dailan had been a master swordsman, one of the best in Khorvaire. Daine remembered those practice sessions as vividly as his last conversation with his father.