Fulcrum Shift
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
Fulcrum Shift Fulcrum Shift Will Kalif Writers Club Press San Jose New York Lincoln Shanghai Fulcrum Shift All Rights Reserved © 2002 by Will Kalif No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher. Writers Club Press an imprint of iUniverse, Inc. For information address: iUniverse, Inc. 5220 S. 16th St., Suite 200 Lincoln, NE 68512 www.iuniverse.com Any resemblance to actual people and events is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. www.stormthecastle.com [email protected] ISBN: 0-595-23888-2 Printed in the United States of America This book is dedicated to the woman with the long brown hair—My Muse. Acknowledgments I would like to acknowledge Roland Valliere and thank him for his daily support in the writing of this novel. Without him I would have never finished it. I would also like to thank all the members of my family. Their belief in me made this book possible. - vii - C h a p t e r 1 M The figure walked quietly down the cobblestone alley with purpose. His leather shoes made no sound on the stones. The black cloak draped around his body made him almost indiscernible from the build- ings around him in the dark moonless night. He came to an intersec- tion and stopped then turning left he paced off his steps carefully and stopped again under a stone arched bridge. Glancing around first, he placed a hand into a small hole in the building, and pulled himself upward. He proceeded quickly, going hand over hand, finding small crevices, until he reached the bottom of the arch. He grabbed the edge, and suspended by the strength in his fingers, he flexed his muscular forearms and pulled himself up onto the bridge. He hopped over the short wall onto the walkway and paused in a crouch. His sword clinked against the stones. He grabbed the metal sheath and moved it to a safer position. “Damn” he thought to himself. “I should have covered it with soft leather.” He froze as still as a marble statue as voices came from the far end of the bridge. Two guards were walking toward him, laughing and talking. Their footsteps loud as galloping horses in the quiet night. “The wench had the biggest bosoms I have ever seen. And soft, just like a kittens fur. She said she had to be on top. If she lay on her back they flopped against her chin.” His partner, the other guard, let out a roaring laugh. “Flopped against her chin, now those are some big bosoms.” The two continued on across the stone bridge not yet see- ing the black figure crouching against the waist high wall of the bridge. - 1 - 2 \ Fulcrum Shift Viss remained motionless in his crouch; his eyes fixed on the two men. They separated and walked toward him from two different angles. “What are you doing there? What brings you to this Court? Come out of those shadows there or I will feed you my sword.” One of the guards put his hand on his sword in a mock attempt at terrorizing Viss. “Come out I said.” Viss didn’t move, and this puzzled the guards. The typical intruder would have run by now, but this one just huddled there. The menace of two armed guards put any sane man into a flee for his life. This is what always happened. A guard happened upon an intruder, he called for a halt and the intruder, having been found out, ran for his life and a grand chase followed. More guards were alerted and the intruder was usually caught and sentenced to the dungeon. The intruder was usually a commoner, down on his luck and trying to better his station by steal- ing from the castle. But this was out of the ordinary. There was no shock at being caught, and no grand chase through the outer levels of the castle. The two guards stepped closer, doubting their eyes. Maybe it wasn’t a man. A moonless night could be deceiving. Viss waited patiently, his large hands remained relaxed and ready, lightly touching the stone near his feet. “The unexpected inaction can be just as much an advantage as the unexpected action.” He thought to himself, remembering the words of an old master. They got close enough to be sure it was a man, but carefully stood out of sword reach. One of the guards turned his head slightly to the other. “Alert the commander of the guard, I will take care of this one.” Viss broke the silence as the second guard turned to leave: “Fear not to be alone with me, he will return quickly.” The arrogance of Viss’ statement stopped the second guard in mid turn and enraged the first guard so much that he rushed at Viss with- out even drawing his weapon. “I am going to haul you along to the Captain either by your ears or spit on my sword.” The quiet arrogance of Viss’ statement angered Fulcrum Shift / 3 him. He traveled the three steps between them quickly and grabbing Viss by the cloak drew him up to a standing position. The violence began. In a blur of unexpected speed Viss grabbed the guard’s wrists and smashed his forehead against his nose. The guard reeled back from the crack of the blow, but he couldn’t fall. Viss had both his wrists locked tightly in his hands. “He looked at the other guard. “Do not draw your sword.” His voice was confident and smooth, with no hint of the excitement of battle. The guard paused long enough for Viss to take initiative in the second round of violence. He crossed the guard’s wrists one over the other. This made the man’s shoulders shift and one of his feet to come off the stone of the walk. The second guard, sensing he had lost initiative and his comrade was in dire trouble, rushed in. Taking advantage of his captive’s imbalance he jerked the guard vio- lently, and the man toppled directly into the rushing guard. The two guards fell into a tangle of limbs against the stone. They recovered quickly and jumped to their feet, drawing their swords with clean metallic scrapes. Meet a fist with a fist, meet a sword with a sword, and bring death only when you must.” The long remembered and oft-repeated ritual came to Viss as it had many times in the past. It was another echo of a master from long ago. The two guards charged and in the moment before contact, Viss had gathered all the information he needed. They are both right handed, carrying standard meter long rapiers, held in classical military stances. This means they would only have been taught the twelve basic attacks. It was a weakness that Viss easily exploited. The first guard, enraged by his broken nose, the blood probably limiting his eyesight, rushed in with a sloppy overhand blow. The other, using more restraint, sent the point of his rapier directly toward Viss’ chest. Viss twisted sideways. It presented a smaller target, and allowed the stab at his chest to pass harmlessly. At the same time he did this he raised his sword to block the blow aimed at his head. He then pushed himself off the short wall at his back and leapt past his opponents. The blade of his sword lashed out at the guard with the bleeding nose. The sharp edge 4 \ Fulcrum Shift sliced deeply into his neck. Viss hit the ground, rolled, and turned as lithe as a giant cat. The guard with the broken nose crumpled to the ground with blood gushing from the severed artery in his neck. “Always dispatch the weakest enemy first.” The voice from his past spoke again. Now the tone of the battle changed. The remaining guard didn’t charge. Witnessing the skill of his opponent he took a more careful stance and glanced toward the far end of the bridge where he and his partner had come from moments earlier. Viss, seeing the guard glance that way, took several quick steps. This put him between the guard and the exit. The man on the ground lay motionless, the pool of blood con- tinuing to grow around his body. The two circled slowly, neither doubting that only one would sur- vive the next few moments. They closed on each other and their swords clashed viciously several times before they broke again. Both fighters remaining silent to conserve energy and maintain absolute con- centration. Again they sprang, each bringing in an overhand strike at the other. As the two blades collided with a resounding ring Viss twisted his weapon slightly racing it powerfully down the length of his foes sword. It smashed through the handguard and continued through the guard’s hand. It severed his thumb. The guard’s sword had also slammed down onto the guard of Viss’ sword but didn’t penetrate the harder metal. It was a move that could only be safely made if you knew your opponent’s sword to be of inferior strength. This of course Viss knew. He had wielded the standard sword of the Captain’s guard many times himself. The guard bent over in reaction to the horrifying pain. Viss contin- ued the motion of his sword in a fluid arc, bringing it back around his own body then down; burying its blade deep into the guard’s skull.