Their leader said something, but none of my companions answered him. He said the sentence again with a bit more anger, and Iarin answered as he put down his bow and raised his hands. The leader of the armed men glared at me and said more demanding words I didn't comprehend, but I guessed he wanted me to raise my hands, so I did. He sneered at me in disbelief before issuing the same unknown command again.
Paug gave him a fearful response, and the leader of our captors yelled back at him. Paug grimaced at me and kneeled down into the muddy dirt. He deliberately raised his hands and tucked them behind his head once he had reached the ground, and all of my other companions repeated the same series of movements. I looked over to Nadea. Her expression was grim and she didn't make eye contact with me. Jessmei appeared terrified as the pool of mud seeped into her leggings. Greykin's face was a mask of disappointment. His eyes met mine, and although I didn't speak his language, I knew from his posture that these men intended to kill us.
The leader yelled at me again. I glared at him coldly. If I was going to die, it wouldn’t be without a fight. I was weak, but guessed I might be able to kill a few of them if I got lucky. Of course, having eight crossbows pointed at me meant I needed more than just fortune on my side. My brain sprinted into action and began puzzling ways to kill the soldiers before me.
The leader spat another command at me. He had a thick mustache, and his front tooth was crumbling with decay. His face turned a bright vermillion at my inability to follow his directions, so he handed his crossbow to the man on his right and lumbered toward me. The lackey fumbled with the two crossbows, and for a few precious seconds only six of them were a threat.
As the commander walked down to me across the muddy, mossy terrain, I examined the long sword and dagger on his left hip. Neither blade appeared to be tied in its sheath. It was another bit of luck in my favor, and the refined observation convinced me that I must have been very familiar with the violence about to be inflicted.
"Sit down!" Paug whispered to me as urgently as he dared, without suffering the enemy commander's wrath. I ignored the boy's words and tried to look confused.
The rotten-toothed leader was a little shorter than me, but he pushed his face up, nose-to-nose, so there was no escaping his vile breath. Then he expectorated the same command he had been repeating before. Despite the stench, I smiled to myself when I realized he was probably yelling, “Get on the ground.” I was starting to learn this language. The smile didn't impress the commander. He screamed the command again and wound his right hand back like a whip to deliver a backhanded blow with his leather-clad fist.
That was his last mistake.
My right hand came up and checked the back of his elbow so he couldn't move his arm to strike me. My left hand reached across his body and pulled the dagger from its sheath on his waist. As I drew the weapon, I turned its point inward, cutting past the leather of his armor, the silk cloth underneath, and into his soft belly. The blade was sharp, and it sliced the inside of his stomach open in a long red streak.
The dagger spun sideways as it left my hand in a throw, spinning drops of crimson blood lazily on its fifty-yard journey, before embedding itself into the soldier's neck on the far left. The man choked out a panicked gurgle from the impact of the dagger, and reached up with his left hand toward the hilt coming out of his jugular. I guessed that it would take him a minute to die, but in the meantime he might not be able to aim his crossbow at Paug and his friends.
My left hand returned to the waist of the commander. I took a fistful of belt, armor, and cloth, while the blood from his stomach wound began to gush over my clenched fingers. I lifted with both of my arms and pulled the commander's body off the ground. He somehow seemed lighter than a feather, but would serve my purpose.
I charged the other men with their leader’s body shielding me.
One arbalist to the right took a shot when his commander began to scream in wet horror. The bolt went wide over my head. As I took three more steps, a second weapon twanged, sinking a quarrel into the back of the commander and choking off his cry.
Four more steps and I had made it to the left of the semicircle. A few more bolts whispered past my head as the soldiers tried to kill me without injuring their commander. They should not have bothered trying to spare him. He would die when I finished with them.
The left most soldier tried to draw his sword. His palm had hardly brushed the hilt when I pushed my pointer and middle fingers together and drove them through his eyeball and into his brain. He had a dagger, but to draw and throw the weapon I would have to spin around the body of their commander, temporarily exposing myself to potential crossbow quarrels. These men seemed inept, so I decided to gamble and drew the long dagger out of the dying man's belt before tossing it.
The dagger left my hand at a poor angle, but it somehow corrected itself in midflight like a sparrow and took the final arbalist in the shoulder. The blade sunk into his armor as if it were made of cloth. My target had not expected the toss or the pain in his crossbow-bearing arm. Surprise caused him to pull the trigger and launch the bolt accidentally toward my new companions. I couldn't spare a glance in their direction, but I didn't hear a scream, so I guessed the quarry had not found a living target.
Four of them were left, not including the dying commander I clutched with my right hand, and the one who wouldn't be using his shoulder anymore. The soldier a few steps from me began fishing for his sword, so I pushed the commander's body toward him with as much strength as my weak body allowed. He flew like a small stone, and both of them tumbled backward. The receiving soldier's left foot caught a tree root and he landed with a wet sounding crunch.
The man who had accepted the commander's heavy crossbow before the battle started frantically tried to drop one of his weapons and fire at me with the other. I sprung toward him, light on my feet because I had tossed my body shield, and angled a slashing kick downward against his leg. My left shin connected above his right kneecap where the muscles formed a teardrop shape. I heard a satisfying snap and tear as the leg separated from the tendons and muscles that held the joint together. The force of my kick also carried through to his left leg, and he flipped over my cutting shin kick and dropped head first onto the wet jungle floor.
The last two soldiers stood twenty yards from me with their trembling swords drawn. Without speaking, they each fell back a few steps toward the edge of the jungle and away from Paug and his friends. I guessed from their facial expressions and the glances they made over their shoulders that they considered fleeing into the jungle.
The man whose leg I had broken lay screaming at my feet, so I bent down and pulled the longer sword from his sheath. He reached his hands after mine to stop me, but I smacked his weak arms aside before I freed the blade. The weapon fit well in my hand, but was a bit light, like a toy. Suddenly a brief memory shattered my concentration.
I stood upon a hill overlooking a grand valley. Thousands of soldiers, clothed in animal-shaped armor, mounting red banners, stood at attention. I walked down the slope and into their ranks. Some of the men and women had their helmet visors lifted; their faces were sunken, angry, and eager for violence. I yelled a command and the masses screamed with feral intensity. The flags had giant skulls on them and they twisted and snapped in the sharp, cutting wind.
I shook my head when my memory was interrupted by another screech. I flicked my wrist downward and let the blade of the sword bite into his brain through his skull. Then I tensed my wrist a fraction of a second later to bring the blade back up and silence the man's screams. I stepped over his body and walked toward the last standing men.
The remaining soldiers looked like cornered rats, so I took my time and closed the distance between us with a slow stroll. My feet were still bare and crushed the rocks, moss, leaves, and damp earth beneath them, just as I was about to pulverize the life from the man before me. This soldier seemed to be the youngest of the bunch, and I inhaled the sickly scent of fear on him and heard his heart bea
t faster than Paug's. The man hadn’t expected this outcome, but we both knew at this moment that I was going to destroy him. Our eyes made contact, and I read his feint before he tried to make a small cut, pull back, and thrust into me.
My blade swung out to meet his like he expected. He pulled back at the last second and my sword went wide, leaving me open. He dove forward with a thrust aimed at my midsection, but the flat side of the blade glided against the palm of my hand and I pushed the sword wide. His eyes opened in shock as he realized I had read his feint. My relaxed blade swung back with precision and I took the top half of his head off with a horizontal cut. His eyes darted around the jungle frantically while his body toppled. His brain hadn’t realized it was missing its top half and may have tried to send interrupted commands to the rest of his body.
My left hand grabbed along the blade of the falling man’s sword, and I flipped the pommel into my palm as I turned around to face the last attacker. He dropped his sword and kneeled as I walked toward him. His hands went on top of his head and he started pleading with me. I didn't like the balance of the sword in my left hand so I left the blade buried in his chest.
I surveyed the clearing for any more opponents capable of attacking. I had not expected to live through such an assault, but these men proved so unskilled that even in my frail state they were easier to kill than the bugs in the tunnel. I shook my head in disappointment before sliding my sword through the neck of the one who had the dagger buried in his shoulder. Once his annoying cries of agony were silenced I made my way over to the last living soldier.
He had pushed his commander's body off and clawed at the ground to scoot away from me. My sword cut the strap attaching his helmet to his skull and I smacked it off with the flat side of the blade. Then I grabbed onto the thick, oily hair on his head and dragged him back across the wet mud to Paug's companions while he kicked and screamed. Perhaps they would want to question him. The small group hadn't moved from their position on the ground in front of the entrance to the tunnel. They surveyed the massacre with fear and shock.
"Do you want to talk to him before I kill him?" I asked Paug. I put the edge of my sword to the soldier's neck and he started to say frantic things in the unfamiliar language.
Greykin got off his knees with a grunt and began to ask the soldier questions. The man replied with hysterical passion, but the words were still intelligible. Nadea further interrogated him before Iarin had his turn. They each stared at me in fearful awe after they finished their questions. Jessmei's skin was white and I wondered if it was her normal hue or if she was about to faint. I guessed that the young woman had not seen many battles.
After a few minutes they had finished with their questioning.
"What did they ask him?" I yelled to Paug. He didn't respond immediately and I realized he had sprinted a few dozen yards away from the group to vomit. He also must have been unused to combat.
"More?" I asked Greykin, wondering if the older man would understand me. He shrugged his shoulders, so I drew the sword across my captive’s neck and held his head while he bled out. My companions gasped in horror and started to yell, but they didn't move toward me. I regarded them with a raised eyebrow. They couldn't possibly wish to keep this man alive. He had tried to kill them and would be of little use as a prisoner.
When he stopped struggling I let go of his hair and pulled the weapon belt off of his body. Then I walked over to the other corpses and began to organize their weapons into piles. The commander had the best sword, an ornate affair that appeared to be better crafted and a bit heavier than the others. I tied his belt across my robe before I grabbed the next best sword and attached it on the other hip. I gathered the five best balanced daggers and attached them to another belt I slung over my shoulder. The work occupied me for ten minutes or so, and put my mind at ease. Had I done this before? The familiarity of the task helped to relax my nerves.
My companions spoke a short distance away from me. They sounded angry as they argued amongst themselves. I couldn't understand them so I didn't bother devoting any energy to trying.
I contemplated taking a pair of boots from one of the corpses before I realized the robe I wore wasn't very good for traveling. The soft, thin shroud was wet with mud, water, and blood. These dead men weren't wearing any travel gear, so their camp had to be within walking distance. One of the corpses had a pair of leather boots that I guessed would fit, so I sat on a nearby rock and tied them around my bare feet.
While sitting, I noticed the trail through the jungle the soldiers had used to find us. I looked back at my companions and saw them involved in a passionate discussion. Nadea and Greykin were arguing. Paug had returned to them from his vomiting break, but his back was to me. They did not seem to be paying any attention to me or the trail, so I debated my next action. I needed Paug to learn this language, but I did not need to know any of the decisions the group would make in the next few minutes.
I set off down the trail at a comfortable jog. The soldiers' campsite would be close by, and once I reached it I could acquire pants, socks, and maybe a horse. I could hear and smell Paug, so I didn't have any doubt I would find him again after I obtained some gear. As I ran, the energy of the sun, earth, and water invigorated me.
I was not tired anymore.
You can read it here FOR FREE in the USA
You can read it here FOR FREE in the UK
You can read it here FOR FREE in Canada
You can read it here FOR FREE in Australia
Rockstar Romance
I got to Jack's house at twenty-five to eight. The street was packed with cars, so I found a nice spot for my beat-up Honda about 100 yards from his house. The cars around his place were all pretty nice. I suffered a pang of regret that I hadn't bothered to spend some of the money I had in the bank on a newer car, but I figured I should ensure I had a job out of school before I spent my inheritance.
Jack's place was bumpin'. He'd upgraded to a townhome in the last year, which must have cost a shit-ton of money in Westwood. When I ascended the steps to the door, I heard what sounded like a live band inside: drums, bass, guitar, and someone singing. It sounded like a cover of U2, but I couldn't tell. The door opened before I could even knock, and Jack smiled back to me.
"Dude!" he yelled loudly and wrapped me in a big hug. "Come in and let me introduce you to everyone!"
I noticed he was dressed very nicely and the townhome was very impressive. Stylized carpet, paintings, and décor seemed to be placed very well. Obviously some woman came through and had her way with it, because Jack used to use pizza boxes as a coffee table.
There were about twenty people in the main entryway. I could see a three-piece band in the back that confirmed the cover tune I heard earlier. I felt my eyes drawn like magnets to the singer's electric guitar and then bounce quickly to Jack's back as he threaded his way through the crowd to the back of the room.
In the back, there was a dry bar situated next to an oval-shaped leather couch. On the couch were six people who Jack introduced me to. I figured these were Aimee's friends and hence his new friends.
"Hey all, this is my best friend, Eric. We grew up together, and he is like my brother." They all looked at me and waved. Four girls and two guys. Good odds at my initial glance, but I was still reeling from the exposure: the crowd, music, and introduction. I still hadn't gotten my bearing to the point where I could look at people.
"Eric this is Daya, Patrick, Katherine, Brent, Samantha, and this is Aimee." I moved awkwardly around the couch to shake everyone's hand. I tried to remember everyone's name, but I was having trouble concentrating over the music. I recognized Samantha from the initial conversation Jack and I had. She was short, about 5'1" Blonde shoulder-length hair framed a round face with brown eyes and big dimples. She was a little plump with full boobs. She was wearing a light green dress patterned with orange and brown flowers. Again, cute, and I'm sure most guys would love her, but my taste in women ran toward thin, small boobs, and athletic/
model type.
Katherine was tall and athletic. She had olive-colored skin along with dark-brown hair that was slightly curly and fell to her mid-back. She was dressed in a suit and sported a Louis Vuitton purse that matched her shoes, so I assumed they were Vuitton too. Her cheekbones, nose, and eyes were set on her face at sharp angles that would have made her seem like a villain from a Disney movie, but she had a big smile when she shook my hand. She was very pretty, and I felt my face getting hot when I returned her smile.
The guy sitting next to her was named Brent, and he was handsome in a carefully selected vintage t-shirt and Converse way (you know what I am talking about). I could tell he had a thing for Katherine by how close he was sitting to her and by the way he looked at her face when she shook my hand. I didn't think he liked me.
Patrick was a big dude when sitting down, and when he stood up I realized he was about 6'5" and 220 pounds of muscle. He had his brown hair spiked up; it was a new trend at the time that I hadn't really noticed catching popularity at my school. He looked like he could have been a steroid user, but he lacked the fake tan, oiled skin, and acne that most of those type of guys had. He probably just spent four hours in the gym every day.
Daya was tall and sleek. She had long black hair, coffee colored skin, and deep brown eyes. She looked to be of Middle-Eastern heritage. She wore silver-colored jewelry that played nicely off the tone of her skin. I would have spent the rest of my night trying to get into Daya's pants, but Patrick and she seemed to be dating; he had his arm around her when they were on the couch, and that arm could probably bend me into a pretzel without much effort.
My attention settled on Aimee after the initial shuffle of introduction. When I first laid eyes on her, I breathed a sigh of relief for two reasons.
02- Satan! Page 16
