The Iron Mage

Part 29: The Last Effort

A wet gurgling sound echoed throughout the room. Slowly, Maximus turned around, just in time to see the cultist mage fall to his knees, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood pouring from the cut in his throat. Behind the mage stood Elín, her dagger stained crimson. Furious, Maximus swung his fist at her, but she easily dodged this strike. With the elf now out of his range, he turned his gaze back toward Dane. Though his helmet still blocked his face, Dane was fairly certain that he was on the receiving end of one hell of a death stare.

"You would use such underhanded tactics against me?!" Maximus growled.

"You are the one who captured me by ambushing our group with a whole host of mercenaries."

"...After which I challenged you to a fair one-on-one duel."

"As if I had a choice!"

"Only when the going gets tough does a man reveal his true nature. I have just witnessed yours – and I am most disappointed."

"Well, am I glad that I'm not interested in gaining your approval," Dane retorted.

"Do you think you can take him down?" he continued inside his head.

Ileim didn't respond immediately, which did little to alleviate Dane's stress – neither did her eventual answer.

"As much as I want to say that I will... I'm not certain. I'm still not used to this body, and he is one of the most skilled opponents I've ever faced. Never mind the end result, the bout would probably last for quite some time."

Dane and Maximus started circling around, never breaking eye contact. Elín stayed well clear, which was smart: her arrows would do nothing due to the amulets, and her dagger would be all but useless against the man's heavy armour. The reasonable strategy would have been a war of attrition: no matter how tough Maximus was, he was still a human. Eventually, he would grow weary, whereas Dane would be fine in his artificial body. However, given that there was no telling what was going on above ground, and how long it would take for the cultist to tire out, this plan was not viable.

"Take over. I'll try to come up with a solution while you keep him occupied."

With that, he let go of the body, giving the reins to the elf, who immediately charged in. She and Maximus immediately started exchanging blows with dizzying speed. Like before, neither one could gain an edge, but that was exactly what Dane had been counting on. While the battle ensued, he began scanning the room and trying to come up with a solution. However, he came up empty. Dane was so preoccupied with his stratagems that he failed to notice the fact that the power balance of the fight was beginning to shift. More and more of Maximus's blows started hitting their mark, and though they didn't do any significant damage, it was clear that that wouldn't be the case for much longer. It took a heavy blow to the corpus arcanum's head to alert Dane to the situation.

"Wait, what? What is going on?" he asked, as yet another of Maximus's jabs banged on his body.

"This body... Is much slower and clunkier than what I'm used to. It isn't fast enough to respond to my movements!" Ileim said in a strained voice. "And he just keeps getting faster!"

She was right. Somehow, the amount of fell mana emanating from Maximus surged larger, and the man was starting to move so fast that he was becoming a blur. At this point, Ileim was completely on the defensive. It took all she had to protect the weaker parts of the artificial body. Evidently, the cultist noticed this and increased his tempo even further.

"I hate to say it, but I do not believe that I can take care of him by myself," Ileim finally groaned.

The tone of her voice made it apparent that this was a heavy blow to her pride, as she was now having to admit defeat at the hands of a 'mere' human. Yet another of Maximus's strikes hit the corpus arcanum, this time hitting its elbow. To his shock, Dane could see the metal on the joint bending ever so slightly, slowing its movements. Though the effect was minor at best, Maximus had now, in a sense, drawn first blood. Dane retreated back into his mind, filtering out the noise of the fight unfolding before him. When he was trying to find a way of calming himself down, he noticed the whirling pool of water from the corner of his vision. The maelstrom, clearly magical in nature, was still raging on. He ventured a guess that it was just as deep as it looked, which gave him an idea. If Maximus were to fall into the basin, his heavy armour would probably drag him into its depths. However, as he kept observing the cultist's movements, he became more and more sceptical about his chances of somehow getting his opponent to accept the water's cold embrace. The only course of action seemed to require a drastic choice.