CORBAN

For a heartbeat Corban froze, numb, shocked, then a jolt of fear hit him.

Sumur. Kadoshim.

I’m going to die.

I should have listened to Gar and Meical and not accepted Jael’s challenge. Gar had insisted on accepting the duel, said that he was Corban’s champion, that he had stood guard over him since birth, and it wasn’t going to change now.

You can do much for me, Gar, but you cannot be me. Jael is right, I am Elyon’s champion, no other. Gar had just stood there, looking into Corban’s eyes, his face twitching with frustration.

Meical had grabbed Corban, ordered him not to go, and then when it became clear that wasn’t going to work, almost begged. It was the most emotion Corban had ever seen from the Ben-Elim.

But I had no choice. How could I let so many die when I could have done something to stop it?

You tell me I am the Bright Star, Corban had said as Meical had gripped his arm. I must do this. Meical had regarded him with sad eyes, then nodded and let go.

As those behind him recognized who he faced they broke out with shouting and cursing. He recognized Gar’s voice, Dath’s swearing. Could imagine the look of fear on Cywen’s face.

I have to put it out of my mind, he told himself. If I want to last more than a few heartbeats I must put everything out of my mind except his sword.

‘Surprised?’ Sumur said, having crossed over half the distance to Corban, only twenty or thirty paces separating them now.

‘A little,’ Corban muttered, taking a few steps backwards as Sumur strode towards him, inevitable as time.

It seems the Kadoshim have learned a little humour since they entered this world.

‘I am going to carve out your heart and eat it,’ Sumur said, the gap closing between them.

Now that’s not so funny.

‘Are you Sumur, or something else?’

‘Sumur is still in here,’ the Kadoshim said, walking closer, his black eyes boring into Corban. ‘All of his knowledge, his skill, the instinctive responses of his body.’ He rolled his wrist as he approached Corban, his blade twirling a slow circle. Corban recognized the movement, remembered seeing him do the same thing back in Dun Carreg, when Gar had faced Sumur, trying to purchase Corban time to escape.

Strange – the body and movement is Sumur’s, but the voice is someone else’s. Not someone, something. And if Gar couldn’t beat him, how in the Otherworld can I?

‘But Sumur does not rule in here, any more.’ The Kadoshim put fingertips to heart and head. ‘I am Belial, captain of Asroth.’

‘I think I’ll just stick with Sumur,’ Corban said, shuffling back another few paces.