An Early Childhood Chapter 21 Part 7


 Continued from Part 6 of Ch 21.

            Tancred Moorphy M’Nally, Sean Tubridy-O’Reilly, John Fisherman-O’Reilly (related by marriage) and I stood on the deserted quay, looking for any sign of the conspirators led by Bishop O’Brien.

            “They must be gone already.”

            The voice came from behind us and we spun around. A cloaked figure, dressed all in black with a deathly pale face atop an eight foot tall body stood before us. A thunderous wind suddenly rose up. Rain fell from the quickly cloud-filled sky. Thunder and lightning clapped and crackled across it. I held up my scimitar in a defensive posture.

            Floudh Rak drew a sword of its own, which shone brightly in what little light there was. We circled each other.

            “Paddy Flanagan!” the evil weatherlock roared, his cape flapping in the wind. “Welcome…to die!”

            “Welcome to die?” I asked him. “Is this some kind of a game to you?”

            “Yes – a game from a Japanese games developer! So I stand by my English!”

            Suddenly, the ancient weatherlock swung his sword. I blocked it with surprising ease, sparks flying off it that blossomed into tiny wisps of smoke that made the shape of the numerals “100”.

            And I realised then that he was just playing with me, and that it was a game to him, and that he was testing my limited skill.

            Floudh Rak brought his weapon up again before swinging it downward.

            I knew that I would be unable to parry a blow of that strength, so I sidestepped it and the sword struck the ground, sparks flying. I swung my own scimitar at him and he had a choice; he could retain his heavy sword and take the blow in the chest or drop his heavy sword and dodge the blow. He dropped his sword and moved back and I swung again with greater enthusiasm. He stepped back again and fell over the quay and into the water. He went downriver immediately, the current taking him, arms flailing wildly.

            “I’ll get you Paddy Flanagan!” he roared at me, voice filled with rage, fist raised.

            So a second time I had shown my men that Floudh Rak was pervious to resistance in this worldly realm. At least twice anyway. I’ve lost count now. Maybe three times. And much like the other times, it was an important lesson we were unlikely to forget, as we were to discover at some later point, that I’ll have to think about remembering now.