* * * * *
Blaize stared back at the cruel grin of the apparent leader of these thieves. He was thin and had dark stringy hair. He was also a Balthan and had an evil glint in his eyes. Blaize could tell he was a man who was not afraid of anything. The perplexing thing was the recognition that Blaize read in the man’s eyes. He was certain that he would have remembered meeting a man who emanated such evil. He was sure he had never seen the man before now, but the man seemed to recognize him.
“You don’t know who I am, do you,” the thin man stated. “Our paths have crossed once again it seems.” Blaize stared back at the man calmly. “It’s strange that you survived death in Bejik to die in a marsh on the far side of Kalia.”
Blaize kept the surprise he felt from showing on his face as the man cackled in glee. How could the man possibly have known his home town? He had not been to Bejik since he had left his home when he was not much older than Traven.
Blaize’s thoughts were interrupted by a flash of sunlight off metal. He dove to the side as a two sided dagger soared past him and into the front room of the tower. Blaize rose out of his roll with his swords raised in a cross, successfully blocking a second dagger with a clang. He lowered his blades and glared back at his attacker. The man’s eyes were wide with surprise. The surprise was soon replaced by the evil gleam once again.
“You have improved your skills greatly. It pains me to have to kill such an accomplished fellow assassin.”
“I am no assassin, you spineless pig,” Blaize growled. “I fight face to face. I don’t sneak up on the helpless from the shadows. I have honor.” Anger flashed back at Blaize in the eyes of the self-proclaimed assassin.
“We will see what your morals do for you now,” the man growled back. “They didn’t save your lover, and they will not save you!”
The assassin tossed back his heavy cloak and ripped out a sword and a long crooked dagger. All of the talk of his hometown and then the sight of the crooked dagger sparked something deep in Blaize’s memory, but he refused to let anything break in on his concentration. He could tell by the movements of the assassin that he was a skilled fighter. He knew how to use his weapons. Only long experience and having learned to trust his instincts had saved Blaize from the flying daggers. The assassin was quick, and Blaize knew that this battle would not be easy. He had no fear though. All emotion was far away. He was one with his swords.
Blaize moved forward towards the awaiting assassin. He didn’t want to be backed up against the tower when the battle began. He advanced to the center of the courtyard and stopped. The assassin also took several steps forward until they were only a small distance apart in the very center of the ancient courtyard. With crumbling walls surrounding them and a damp mist enshrouding all beyond, the two masters faced each other in deathly silence and isolation. One would leave the ancient remains of the once great city while the other would pass out of memory just as the city had. They stood motionless, their eyes concentrating on each other, waiting for the one who would make the first move.
Blaize made the decision and attacked first. He lunged suddenly at the awaiting assassin. The assassin blocked the blow as he moved quickly to the side and let his crooked dagger fly towards Blaize’s chest with lightning speed. Blaize blocked it quickly and returned a fierce swipe. The assassin jumped back nimbly avoiding harm once again. They both paused to evaluate the other, one last time. The assassin flashed an evil grin and snarled at his large foe. Blaize’s face was a stone of indifference as he fell into the trance of total concentration.
The stillness was broken as they clashed once again in a whirl of blades and sparks. The silence of the marsh was pierced by the sharp clanging of metal as the two masters made their way back and forth across the courtyard, one advancing and then the other. Blaize fought methodically, memorizing the attacks and defenses of his opponent, patiently looking for an opening. The battle raged and still no one had taken the advantage. The silent tower was the lone witness of the epic battle taking place below in its courtyard.
Blaize finally saw an opening and at the exact moment brought his right sword up with incredible force against the assassin’s dagger, sending the dagger flying through the damp air. The small amount of satisfaction was slashed immediately, however, as Blaize felt a sharp sting in his shoulder. With only a cringe of his teeth, he realized that the assassin somehow already had another crooked dagger in his hand. He watched the pleasure in the man’s eyes as the blood began to trickle down his arm. The man was evil beyond any Blaize had ever fought. In his eyes, the mighty warrior saw the assassin’s joy in inflicting pain upon others.
His attacker suddenly picked up his attack in a ferocious frenzy. Blaize was reminded of a rabid forest wolf when it had drawn blood of its victim. Blaize blocked the frenzied attack, desperate to keep his attacker from slicing into him again. The assassin’s quickness was amazing. Sweat broke out on Blaize’s brow as the assassin pushed him back closer and closer to the tower. He tried to find an opening to push his attack but could barely keep a solid defense against the flashing blades of his opponent. He was suddenly forced to drop to the ground and roll to the side. His only other option had been death when the assassin’s blade had poked through his defense. As it was, he could feel a biting pain from the nick on his head. The assassin cackled with glee as he jumped to clash blades once again with Blaize.
The demented man didn’t deserve to live any longer. Blaize pushed his muscles and skill as far as he could as his swirl of blades picked up fury. He knew that he needed to end the fight before he lost too much blood. The assassin’s smugness began to fade as the blinding barrage of blades forced him back. He no longer had the opportunity to attack but was now on the complete defensive. The assassin held him at bay for several minutes but could not match the strength and fury of the mighty warrior. The assassin began to leave openings in his frantic desperation to keep the blurring blades off of his physically exhausted body.
Blaize finally knocked away the assassin’s dagger and followed up with blinding speed and ruthlessness. His elbow crashed into the man’s chin as his sword jarred the assassin’s remaining weapon loose. Blaize then knocked the dazed assassin to the ground. He quickly tried to draw another weapon and get up off of his back, but Blaize gave him no opportunity. The assassin’s eyes widened as his face was met by Blaize’s fist. As the disoriented assassin tried to recover his senses, Blaize sheathed one of his swords and twirled his remaining one. Gripping the hilt with both hands above his head, he brought his blade down in a mortal blow as he dropped to a knee. Blaize buried his sword tip straight down into the ground through the evil man’s body.
The assassin’s scream echoed off the tower and the surrounding walls before disappearing forever. Once again, the ancient courtyard was enshrouded in silence. The only sound that met Blaize’s ears was his own heavy breathing. He stared at the motionless body before him, glad to have rid the world of the man’s vileness. Standing up, he placed a foot on the lifeless body and pulled his sword free. He then bent over and cleaned off his sword before re-sheathing it on his back. With one last glance at the evil man’s face, Blaize wrapped the man’s cloak over him and straightened back up.
Blaize checked the slash quickly on his shoulder and was relieved to find that it was not deep at all. His head wound was also very shallow. The crooked dagger had barely nicked him. The thought of the dagger tugged once again at his memory. He walked over to one of the discarded daggers and turned it over in his hands. He was about to drop it when he noticed the small “W” scratched into its hilt. The memory of Sherrial’s death came rushing back to him, almost knocking him from his feet. Blaize turned with boiling anger in his eyes and threw the dagger viciously at the cloak covered assassin in a burst of rage. He regretted that he had killed the villainous scum so quickly. The assassin deserved to have died a slow and painful death. Suppressing the anger within, he forcefully turned away, leaving the body behind. He quickly trotted out into the marsh in se
arch of Traven and the Princess, trying to clear his mind. At least Sherrial’s soul could now rest in peace.
35
Old trees and crumbling buildings flew by as Traven continued running as fast as he possibly could through the knee deep water of the marsh. He was beginning to tire from the loss of blood, however, and he was no longer having to pull the Princess along but was barely able to keep up with her. In fact, it was taking him quite an effort just to keep from stumbling. As they ran past a large tree, his foot slammed into one of its gnarled roots. He threw up his arms to brace himself as he fell, crashing into the murky water. He gasped as the chilling water slammed into his hot face. As soon as his hands hit the bottom, he pushed himself back up to his feet.
“Are you okay?” the Princess asked worriedly as she slowed to a stop.
“I’m fine,” Traven replied as he trotted up to her. “We need to keep going.”
“I am not sure how much farther I can keep this up,” the Princess said. “I am exhausted.”
Traven knew she was right. He was tired also, and his leg ached terribly. At least the bleeding had stopped. Their best bet would be to find a hiding spot where they could rest before continuing on.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll find somewhere to hide and wait until we are ready to go on.”
The Princess agreed and they continued on, slower than before, searching for an adequate hiding place. In the distance, Traven could still make out the sounds of their pursuers. To his left, he spotted some more of the ancient ruins on dry land and changed direction. They could easily find a place to hide amongst so many broken buildings. He was grateful when they reached the edge of the large island and were once again on dry land. The cold dampness had begun to sink into his very bones. At least it had numbed his leg and stopped the bleeding.
Traven led the Princess down what must have once been a large avenue. On either side the ruins of once grand buildings rose into the air. Some now only rose several feet, but others rose several arm spans. Staring at the ruins, he had a strange feeling that he had been here before. He knew it was impossible and shook the ridiculous notion away. The voices of their pursuers were getting louder. He knew that they had to find a hiding place quickly. He stopped and turned to survey all of the surrounding ruins. One of them would have to do. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the thin tower rising in the distance. It rose out of the billowing fog, standing majestically as a black void in the night sky. Traven shook his head, trying to clear it as he remembered his dreams. It was impossible! He had never been here before. How could he have dreamt of it? He looked back down the main street. Buildings stood silently on both sides of the avenue until they were stopped abruptly by a grand plaza. The plaza was not grand anymore, but there was a large open area immediately in front of them. Traven knew the cave was nearby. It seemed to pulse, calling to him.
“What’s wrong?” the Princess asked, startling Traven. “You look like you have seen a phantom.”
“I know where we can hide,” Traven said excitedly, shaking off his initial shock. “Follow me!”
Without another word, they hurried down a side road between the remains of two buildings. In the distance, he could make out the small hill that rose up suddenly. The hill was covered in murky foliage, but he had no doubt as to where the entrance to the cave was located. He walked right up to the sheer side of the hill and turned to the Princess.
“We can hide in this cave.”
“What are you talking about?” the Princess said in exasperation. “This is just a hill. We need to get in one of those building before . . .”
She stopped in amazement as Traven reached forward and pulled the dense mass of vines and moss to one side, revealing the entrance of a cave.
“How did you know?” the Princess managed after a few moments of silence.
He shrugged in response. He couldn’t tell her that he had seen it in a dream. She would think he was crazy. A swamp rat suddenly burst out of the dark entrance startling him backwards. The Princess let out an earsplitting scream.
“Sorry,” the Princess apologized.
Traven groaned. In the distance he could already hear the excited shouts of their pursuers. The Princess had effectively given away their hiding place. He considered trying to find somewhere else, but he knew it was too late. The shouts of the thieves were approaching rapidly, and he was too tired to run anymore. His leg was cramped, and looking at the Princess who was still breathing heavily, he knew they would not get far if they tried to outrun their pursuers.
“It’s too late now,” he told her when she suggested trying to find somewhere else. “Head down into the cave and hide. I’ll wait here at the entrance and try to stop them. If I can’t, you can stay hidden until they have gone.”
“But-”
“There’s no time,” Traven said, cutting the Princess off. “You must hurry!”
The Princess stared at him for a moment before offering a worried smile.
“Good luck,” she said with genuine concern before taking a deep breath and heading off carefully into the cave.
Traven followed her into the entrance of the cave where he waited. He watched as the Princess headed away. She looked back once and opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind and continued down the tunnel. Traven watched her vanish around a corner before turning his gaze outside.
Their followers were already coming into view. Traven unsheathed his sword silently and waited just inside the cave. From in between the ruins of the two buildings, five thieves advanced slowly. Traven muttered under his breath. He had hoped that they had split up, but they were all still together. He knew he could normally take them all on, but he was exhausted and sore. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind as the thieves got closer. He waited paiently out of sight for them to reach the entrance of the cave. The thieves abrubtly stopped with confused looks on their faces.
“Where’d they go,” one of them spat. “I know the scream came from right here!”
A shimmer of hope sparked in the expanse of Traven’s calm. They couldn’t see the entrance. Maybe they would just move on, and he wouldn’t have to fight them. The shimmer dwindled, however, when one of the guards got down on his hands and knees and began to study the ground. He quickly picked out their trail and followed it with his eyes until he was looking at the ground directly in front of Traven.
“They went in there,” he said confidently.
“Where?” another said, peering at the sheer face of the small hill. “There’s nothing there!”
“There must be a small crack or something that they squeezed into. Their trail leads directly into the face of the hill.” The man then began to chuckle. “They’ve done us a favor. They’re trapped!”
Traven knew the man was right, but it was not over yet. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. The cave was narrow enough that only one of the thieves could attack him at a time. He figured he should be able to handle one at a time even in his weakened condition. Traven looked on as the five thieves pulled out their swords and walked slowly towards him. When they got to the side of the hill they pulled up and began poking around with their swords, looking for the entrance. Two sword tips pierced the screen of foliage and slipped into the cave. With excitement, one of the two jumped forward and burst through the foliage and into the cave. The thief fell to the ground lifeless without even a scream. His body hit the ground with a dull thud as his useless sword clanged against the stone floor.
The other thieves jumped back from the entrance yelling curses at the hill. Traven waited in silence for the next one. There was a quick discussion amongst the thieves. They made a decision and the largest of the four broke away from the group and cautiously approached the cave with his sword out in front of him. Traven braced himself just inside the entrance of the cave. He knew that it wouldn’t be so easy this time. He no longer had the element of surprise. When the man reached the edge of the hill, he slashed at the foliage, clearing it away from
the entrance of the cave. He grinned menacingly at Traven, who was now in full view of his attackers.
Traven brought up his sword and blocked the man’s slash as he lunged into the cave. He then counter attacked, but the man was good and easily parried Traven’s blade. The cave echoed with the sharp sound of metal on metal as the two opponents attacked one another, both fighting for their lives. Traven concentrated on the man, looking for an opening. The moment came, and he struck smoothly, ending the duel. As the man fell to the ground alongside his comrade, Traven realized how weakened he really was. The wound on his leg had reopened from the strain, and fresh blood was once again trickling down his leg. In his ears, his heart pounded loudly along with his heavy breathing. He knew that if he didn’t end this soon, the three remaining thieves would be able to overpower him.
As a third thief attacked, Traven made up his mind. He pushed his body to its limit and attacked with surprising ferocity. The surprised thief fell quickly, and Traven jumped over him and into the midst of the remaining two thieves. He swiped at one to push him back and then attacked the other. Traven kicked the man in the stomach knocking him to the ground. He turned to face the other and ducked to avoid the thief’s blade flying at his head. Traven was moving slower than he expected and received a glancing blow on the top of his head. He popped back up and finished of the thief before the other had even had time to get up. Traven turned and threw himself on top of the last thief as he was climbing to his feet. One last clang of swords rang in the misty ruins before his opponent’s sword fell onto the moist ground, never to be used again.
Wielder's Awakening Page 36
