Dual, part 10

   There was a note on my work bench, it read;

      'Lloyd,
               Pray stop killing. If you have, or ever wish to have, a soul about you, don't kill again. You ought to know that every cut across my fiance will be a stab in my heart.'

   This made me pause for thought, I had no wish to stab her in the heart.
   That was the day after Johnny came to see me. I shall explain.

   I had met him the day after the last time that I had met Annabel.
   On that evening, I had told her the way I felt about her, and what I wanted. I am not a patient man, and I believe in honesty. In other words, I am brutally direct.
   'I am engaged to another man,' she had said.
   'To hell with him,' I had said.
   Then some more.
   Anyway, he barged into my workshop and demanded satisfaction. I was happy to oblige.

   Then came her letter, and things became some what complicated.
   I had a little thinking to do.

   Anyway, as the challenged party, I had the right to choose weapons. I had chosen pistols. As you know, that is not my usual way. At the time, in my rage, I had decided that I wished to shoot him down like a dog. He was unworthy of the exertion of being butchered.
   He had challenged me on a Saturday. Normally, these things are settled the next dawn, but I do not work on a Sunnday. Thus, we agreed to fight on the Monday.I had one night between reading her letter and fighting her fellow. You may be suprised to hear that I slept soundly that night.

Dual, part 9

   I did not see her again for a few days, as she had made it clear that she would be busy. For a few days, i worked alone in my forge. then one evening, I met Jack in an ale house.
   It was a badly lit place, with saw dust on the floor and bar maids who were more buxom that pretty. I'm sure you know the sort of place. We sat near the fire, and enjoyed our ale.
   "See those Prussian officers over there?" Jack said suddenly. "Ugly brutes!"
   He pointed across the smoky room, without any subtly, at two large men. They sported impressive mustaches, and sat as straight and proud as pine trees. one had a scar across his cheek. From their immaculate   attire, ruggedness of features, and the tones of their loud voives, they were almost certainly Prussian officers.
   I shrugged my shoulders.
   "Can you speak German?" Jack asked me.
   "Not much."
  "Well, I can. And I don't much care for what they are saying."
   I took a sip of my ale. it was clear where this was leading.
  "The blaggards!" Jack exclaimed, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "Boasting! Boasting of their superior artillery! Prussians cannot stop bloating!"
   Everyone in the room looked at him, then at me, then away from us.
   "You are causing a scene," I objected. "Are you trying to get me in a fight?"
   "Of course."
   "Well, don't."
   "Why on Earth not?"
   "I am an not beast. I will fight if I am provoked, but I do not fight for entertainment."
   "That is untrue."
   "Perhaps. But I do not fight for your entertainment."
   "But they are Prussians! Killing them would be patriotic. It might improve your dreadful reputation."
   "Since when do I give a damn about my reputation."
   He had no answer for That. we finished our drinks in silence, then ordered more.
   "My God!" Jack cried. "The damn brutes just insulted The Queen."
   "Be quiet! ... I don't even believe that you can speak German. You only want a good fight to write a poem about."
   "Of course."
   "You are awfully cold hearted, for a poet."

Dual, part 8

   That was too much for her.
   She just sat back in her chair and let the world go on without her.
   I know a little of the minds of men. Kill one man, and you are a criminal, kill ten and you are a hero. But 44? 44 is unthinkable.
   So I just kept talking. 
   'The second time I challenged a fellow, I was drunk... Was drunk a lot in those days... Still killed the man. I'm rather good at it, you see. Was frustrated all the time, you know, got mortally offended easily... After a while, it became habit- then addiction.'
   '44?' she finally asked.
   'Aye, 44.'
   'All because of that girl, Emily?'
   'Yes,you could say that.'
   She sat thoughtfully for a long time, then her eyes lit up.
   'That is, at once, the most monstrous and the most romantic thing I have ever heard.'

   True love is loving some one or some thing more than one loves one's self.
   Addiction is the same, apart from that the thing you love ABSOLUTELY does not love you. Maybe it even hates you.    
   I, for instance, am addicted to Death.
   Once, i was addicted to love. that was not so entertaining.

The Vampyre

I )

Play with fire,
Play with desire,
Do not play,
With The Vampyre,

II )

You won't hear him coming,
You won't hear a thing at all,
You won't hear him coming
When he's walking down the hall,
You won't hear him coming,
When he answers your call,

III )

He casts no shadows,
Sees you in the darkness,
He feels no sorrow,
Knows nothing but madness,
He's at the window,
Hungry and heartless,
He takes you're life,
Lost, alone and helpless.

Dual, part 7

'Really?'
'Really.'
'It's quite ghastly.'
'Quite.'
'Then why, pray tell, do you do it?'
'It's a long story.'
'We have all night.'
That statement made me smile.
'Let me think,' I began.
She looked at me intently.
'It began about nine years ago, soon after I was engaged to be married... to Emily. That was the first time I killed a man.'
She looked started, but I continued.
'He tried to take her from me. So I was forced- by honour- to challenge him, fight him, and kill him. Emily did not take it very well, it seemed she loves us both. She fled to a Convent, and I never saw her again.'
'You loved her?'
'Yes.'
'Do you still love her?'
'Yes, damn it, some times. But I have not seen her face... in daylight... for nine years...' thus spoke I, like a fool in a daze. 'She did not take kindly to the violence, not at all fond of it, you might say. Off she went, to the Convent, weeping. Never to return to the world of men. After that I became rather frustrated and... irritable.'
'Irritable?'
'Keen on Dueling.'
She looked at me like I had said I was keen on eating babies.
'How many?' she asked.
'43, no, now 44.'

Dual, part 6

In my haste, I was a little early. I waited in the alley next to the Doctor's, sheltering from the rain.
She looked like she had seen a ghost when she saw me. She almost screamed.
'Don't be scared,' I said. 'It is I, Lloyd Stone.'
'Oh, you,' she said. 'What are you doing here?'
I was less than flattered.
'I wished to see you,' I replied.
'I see.'
'Would you like to join me for coffee?'
'I don't know... Alright... Where shall we go/'

We went to Miss Molly's Tea Shop, which happened to be just around the corner. It is a smug little place. a couple of comfortable rooms on the ground floor of a house that was built last century. Coal fires always burn in the heaths. The ceiling is a bit too low, and supported by stout beams. The homely furniture is all of well polished oak or pine.
Miss Molly herself is a short, buxom wench, who is almost always cheerful.
'I am curious,' Annabel asked after we had sat down and ordered coco. 'How did you get those terrible wounds?'
'Dueling.'
'Dueling?! In this day and age? It's the 19th century, don't you know?'
'Men will always need to fight, in every century.'
'

THIS IS THE MAN WHO IS HOLDING THE HAMMER

Duel,part 5

The human body is a strange thing. We imagine we have total control over it. Some fellow once said, ' My Body and My Will Are One.' But only when we are ill do we realise how little control we have over it.
I think the definition of health is having some control over one's body.  
The point is, that I passed out as soon as I fell through the doctors door, and when I woke the next day I could not use my arms.
Not an agreeable state of affairs.

'Can I tell you a secret, m'lord?' she asked.
'Certainly.'
'I am not a real nurse.'
'That's not exactly what a patient likes to hear,' I started paying attention to her. she was rather pretty. @tell me more...'
'I am a Governess, I do this in my free time. I dearly wish to be a nurse, and not a Governess. Can I tell you another secret?'
'Go on.'
'I really don't like children.'
That was how I met Annabel.

She took care of me for three humiliating days, when my arms would not do what I tell them. then three more days of Bed Rest. (The children were in France, so she had plenty of free time.) I became fond of her, and her little secrets.
On the final day- when I was thanking her, and thinking of inviting her for Afternoon Tea the next day-  Captain Johnny West burst in.
The great peacock was covered in brass and gold lace, and shon like a tiny sun. Even his ruddy face and pearly teeth shon.
'Annabel!' roared the rum fellow. 'I simply couldn't wait to meet you.'
He embraced her, right there in the ward, and she melted in his arms like a daft maiden.
'Excuse me,' I broke the spell. 'Patient present!  And I must be going.
'Sorry, Lond Stone, ' she turned to me.
'I shall see you soon, Annabel,' said I.
She actually blushed, which made him turn even redder. 
I walked out, I had work to do.

I went straight to my smithy. i had a set of throwing knives to finish, and a Great Sword to start. I have very specialised clients, and they tend not to be very patient.
I worked all day, then I went to the doctor's at eight in the evening. That was the time she finished work.

Duel, part 4

It's a terribly difficult things to kill a man in cold blood.
Hot blood is a different matter. The arms, legs and heart do all the thinking for one. The mind is quite numb.
So I prefer it if I genuinely don't like the fellow.
I really did not like this fellow. I don't like spies in general, sneaky fellows. Also, I don't like fellows who are as keen on killing and dying as I am, makes me uncomfortable in a way I don't quite understand.
And I simply didn't like his face. His damned skull face.

He strode into the glade, sword in hand, cigarette in lips. No Second, didn't give a damn about the rules. Just wanted to fight. Maybe just wanted to do.
I drew my sword as he charged me, and blocked his first blow.
There is something unnerving about fighting a fellow who is breathing smoke, like fighting some damned dragon.
I lunged for his face, he parried.
We crossed swords, testing our strength.
Then he did the most damned unsporting thing.
With his left hand, he burnt me with his cigarette.
I fell back. He slashed my left arm.
Then I was angry, I cut his face.
He cut my right shoulder.
Very angry, I stabbed his heart.
He died, I needed to sit down.
The burn, which was on my neck, stung. Blood flowed from my arm and shoulder. Jack came over and bandaged my left arm. it was cut to the bone.
'This is going to make an excellent poem,' he said.
'I think I need a doctor,' said I.

Duel, part 3

The next few months passed uneventfully. I worked in my smithy, but I don't have much of a social life. 
I am no longer accepted in 'High Society', because I have killed so many of them. 
No word from my family. Mother and Father avoid me these days, but occasionally my elder brother and sister have some time for me.
I dreamed of Emily only once.
Then I met The Smoking Man. I shall always remember him that way, because I fail to recall his name.

I first met him in Miss Molly's Tea Shop. He was morbidly thin, deathly pale, and smoking a cigarette.
'I don't like the look of that fellow,' I said to Jack, who is, amongst other things, my second.
'Don't go starting trouble, Lloyd,' Jack replied. 'That man is dangerous.'
'As am I.'
'He is a different kind of dangerous... He was some sort of spy, but he got himself caught, spent over ten years in The Bastile. But he got used to it, started to like it, if you know what I mean... Imagine it, he started to like the dark, and hunger, and torture. Eventually, the Frogs gave up, let him go. But he was addicted by then... They say he rents a tiny basement flat, and eats nothing but bread, cheese and gruel.'
'I don't like his face.'
I looked at the Smoking Man, and he looked at me. His snake eyes rolled under his lank hair, his cigarette twitched in this pale lips.
'What are you looking at, sir?' he asked.
'You.'
'What is your problem?'
'I simply would not know where to start...'
'Do you think you are funny sir?'
'I believe I can be witty from time to time.'
His cigarette expired. He spat the butt on the floor, and lit another. Then he stood up. He was tall, and his lanky build, black suit and cloud of smoke made him look taller.
'Gentlemen! No fighting in doors!' Miss Molly called over from the counter.
'Sabre, dawn, tomorrow?' I asked.
'Yes.'
'My usual place? Glade of Yews, Freeman's woods?'
'Yes.'
He stalked out.

Duel, part 2

The poor fellow and his Second trotted over. My Second was already sat on his favourite tree stump, scribbling away in his note book.

The fellow had insulted me when we were both drunk, and now faced the consequences of his actions. He looked a little tired, but on good form apart from that. As the insulted party, he had chosen weapons and had a very professional looking sabre.

I like to make my own weapons, and my sabre is less standard. It resembles a cutlas, in that it is unusually broad, and abit short.

The fellow's Second looked rather cross. I did not recognise him, but he knew my reputation.  

'Butcher!' he grunted at me,' One step out of line and I swear I shall blow your brains out.'

He had a brace of pistols and a sword at his belt, and looked capable.

No matter. I never cheat.

'Are you ready, and familiar with the proceedings?' I asked the fellow.

'Yes,' he tried to smile, and drew his sword.

We stood on guard, bowed, then began.

He slashed at my leg, and I parried.

He went for my chest, and I dodged.

I slashed at his left leg, and he blocked.

He was too slow to defend his right leg.

I cut it, and he stumbled.

I cut his throat open.

His Second rushed to his side.

Too late. I walked away.

Duel

The way I see it, everyone is addicted to something; alcohol, tobacco, opium, money... Personally, I am addicted to killing people. In my youth I was addicted to something far stronger.

That was why I found myself, once again, pacing back and fourth in the early morning mist, in some glade of a wood on the outskirts of the city. Waiting to fight. I never can sleep much the night before a Duel , and I hate being late, so I am often waiting for my opponent. I tried to remember advice from my former fencing master. Only two things came to mind;

'There are  only two things worth fighting for,' he once said, 'Love of Country and Love of Women. And you will only ever be rewarded for one of those...'

'It's all in the wrist,' he also said. 'Just like my love life.'

Not very helpful. He was a strange, but brilliant man. I think that service in Wellington's army had bothered him more than he showed, and extensive travel in the East had changed him more than he let on.

Nevermind.

The thump of horses hooves on icy earth and rotten wood announced the arrival of my opponent. Soon, one of us would die. 

THE HUNTER VIII

            When Virgil and Raymond reached the town of Portshead there was only one inhabitant waiting to meet them.

            There was not one building left undamaged, not one ship in the docks unwrecked, not one person left alive.

            Only the dragon remained, sat on the smashed town gate, waiting for them.

            Raymond first instinct was to charge the monster, but Virgil restrained him.

            ‘This is not a little troll that you can kill with one blow,’ the old man told his friend. ‘It is a dragon, the most dangerous beast to ever live. Be wise… Besides, it will want to talk.’

            ‘Talk?’ Raymond grunted in disgust.

            ‘I have long been expecting you,’ the dragon said in a voice far more gentle and elegant than would be expected from it size and fearsome appearance.

            It was indeed fearsome. Its head alone was as big as a bull, covered in horns and ending in a sharp beak. Its eyes were as cats eyes, but as blue as the sea, and as big as plates. Its body was over a hundred paces long, and long spikes petruded all along its spine. Its feet were webbed, but ended it long talons.

            ‘Virgil the Oathbound and Raymond of Westmoorland…’ the dragon continued,’… they say you are the greatest of living men. It is a pleasure to meet you.’

            ‘Come down here and fight!’ Raymond`` roared.

            “Oh yes, we will fight, but not today. First I have a lesson for you.’

            ‘Now!’ Raymond shouted. ‘I don’t sit around talking to monsters.’

            ‘Wait,’ said Virgil, holding his friends shoulder. ‘Remember the sagas… The dragons always talks with the hero, then there will be ritualized combat.’

            ‘Virgil is right,’ said the dragon,’ that is how it is done in this Age. But it was not always that way. I will give you a history lesson. How many Ages have there been in this world?’

            ‘Three,’ replied Raymond. ‘The Age of Elves, the Age of Men and the Age of Monsters.’

            ‘Wrong, that is what men think. There have been four Ages, the first was the Age of Dragons. We dragons were once alone on the earth, then came the animals, then elves, men and monsters, but all those were as children compared to us. In the Age of Dragons, my ancestors slaughtered your ancestors like sheep. Then the Age of Elves came. The Elves learnt the power of magic, and we dragons were slaughtered like beasts. It was only when our numbers became few, and the Elves learnt mercy, that we dragons became cunning and cruel.’

            Raymond listened carefully, he had not expected this.

            ‘The rest you know…’ the dragon continued. ‘The strength of Elves faded, and men learnt the power of fire and the working of metal, the Age of Mankind began. Men and Dragons fought epic duels. Dragons were hunted for sport. Then the Elves left this world, leaving men alone against the monsters. By that time the dragons were thought to be destroyed… Yet I remained. I, the last of my people, who will have revenge for my race!

            I have dedicated myself to the extermination of all mankind! I- the last dragon- will fight Raymond- The Last Hero. I will slay you, then I will slay all of your people… Just as your people slew mine.’

            ‘You must kill me first,’ stated Raymond. ‘That will not be easy. Most likely, I will slay you, and your race will die with you. Lost forever, remembered only in stories for children.’

            ‘We shall see,’ the dragon snapped. ‘Virgil and Raymond, I invite you to my home, and challenge you to a Duel. Come to Bell Isle tomorrow, as the sun begins to set, and be ready for combat.’

            ‘I accept your challenge’, said Raymond. ‘Tomorrow we will meet, and one of us will die.’

            The dragon nodded its head, then was away.

            That night, Virgil and Raymond made camp in the ruins of Portshead. They found a stray chicken and built a good fire to cook it on.

            Both men were quiet that night, lost in their own thoughts.

            Raymond considered the epic task that awaited him. For the first time in his life he considered the possibility that he might loose a fight. He was not afraid of death, but nor did he desire to die. He still had work to do. Also, he gave some thought to all that the dragon had told him- and did not know what to think.

            Virgil did not imagine for a moment that Raymond could fall to the dragon. He considered only the many glorious possibilities after his friend had killed the last dragon. It would guarantee Raymond’s place as the greatest hero in living memory, and that have consequences. It might also set an example to other men, and give humanity greater hope in its battle against monsters.

             Finally, Virgil broke the silence.

            ‘The dragon was wrong,’ Virgil stated. ‘There have been four Ages of this world. First was the Age of the Gods… then the Gods created dragons, to show Their great power. But the Gods went too far, they made stronger and mightier dragons, untill the dragons challenged the Gods Themselves. There was a great war in the sky, eventually the Gods were victorious, but the strength of Dragons was still great… That was why the Gods created mankind- to fight dragons, and all monsters.’

            ‘Long have i suspected that this was the case,’ Raymond relpied.

           

            The next morning they searched the docks for any seaworthy boats, and could find only a tiny rowing boat. On that, they set out for Bell Isle.

            From the outside the Isle was nothing but bare and jagged rocks, but when they sailed around it, they found a barren bay, leading to a narrow river, lined with dense vegetation and mighty trees. The river led to a vast lagoon with clear, still water. The lagoon was surrounded by a golden beach, then gently sloping rocks covered in rare and beautiful flowers of all colours.

            The dragon lay sleeping on the shore of the lagoon, stretched out, half submerged between the blue water and gold sand. It ignored them at first.

            ‘The Dragon is sleeping,’ Raymond said.

            ‘Dragons never sleep,’ Virgil replied.

            They rowed up to the shore, twelve paces from the dragons head. They could see its open eyes gazing at nothing, and its vast body rising and falling with its slow breathing. Behind the dragon was the mouth of a large cave.

            ‘Dragon!’ Raymond roared as soon as his feet hit dry land. ‘It is time.’

            ‘Yes,’ the dragon replied calmly. ‘Welcome to my home. But before we fight, go into the cave and take anything that you desire.’

            ‘I want nothing of yours,’ Raymond said.

            ‘One should know what one is turning down, before turning it down.’

            ‘Sound advice,’ Virgil said.

            They went into the cave and found it piled high with treasure. Heaps of gold. Piles of gems and silver. Marble statues. Suits of ancient armour. Swords, spears and staffs of office.

            Raymond was unimpressed.

            ‘There is nothing here that I need,’ he said, turning back to the dragon.

            ‘Do not be so sure,’ said the dragon.

            ‘Look,’ Virgil pointed to the top of a pile of jewels. ‘It is Freja- Thorfast of Garstang’s sword.

            ‘Correct,’ hissed the dragon. ‘The sword of the last King of men. I took it from his descendents. Now I give it to Raymond.’

            ‘I don’t need a weapon to fight,’ Raymond grunted.

            ‘Take the sword. I wish for a fair fight… Once, long ago, dragons were noble being, and I wish we could be so again…’

            “I will take it, for it is a pretty sword, and you are a noble foe. It will be glorious to slay you.’

            ‘We shall see. One of us shall die, and the hope of our people will die with us… the heroes of men killed my parents when I was young, and I will avenge myself on mankind, or die in the effort.’

‘Enough talking, time to fight,’ Raymond told the dragon.

So they did.

In an instant, the dragon grabbed Raymond with his huge, taloned hand and picked him up off the ground. The air was crushed out of Raymond’s chest by the vast strength of the dragon as he was lifted towards the dragon’s open mouth.

Before the dragon could bite of his head, Raymond lashed out with the sword of kings, cutting the dragon’s face.

The dragon was forced to withdraw Raymond from his face, and became intent of crushing him to death.

Raymond swung the sword down, slashing the dragons paws. It took two blows of the mighty sword to sever one of the dragon’s fingers.

The dragon hissed with pain and rage, and dropped Raymond to the ground.

Raymond had only a moment to catch his breath and get to his feet before the dragon attacked again.

That time he was ready.

The dragons came at him head first, jaws gapping. Raymond leapt aside and stuck the sword into the dragon’s eye. He thrust it deeper, into the dragon’s immense brain- and slew it.

Raymond looked into the dragon’s cold, dead eye.

           

Virgil had known Raymond since he had been a child. The old man had found Raymond, a boy, sat on the dead troll in the ruins of his village, and he had never seen his comrade cry. Not even as a boy beside the corpses of his parents.

            Virgil saw the legend cry that day.

            ‘The dragon was my brother,’ Raymond said. ‘He understood me. A part of me dies with him. A part of the world dies with him.’

            ‘But was it not glorious?’

            There was silence. Then the wind rustled the leaves.

            ‘Aye,’ Raymond laughed. ‘It was mightily glorious!’