by J. L. Ficks
The Doelm stopped as a horrible sinking sound ended in a grisly thunk. Blood trickled from Sadrik’s mouth and his eyes rolled up into his head.
Shade’s jaw dropped at the sight of a crude bone spear, hooked at the end, protruding through the Doelm’s chest. Sadrik’s knees buckled. He teetered forward, then he defied the law of gravity and fell inexplicably backwards. The Doelm landed on his back on the ground, but his body dragged itself chillingly across the blood-smeared floor, towards the water’s edge.
Shade felt chills when he realized that Sadrik was being pulled into the water by a crude algae-covered rope. The Dark Elf could not see the pullers, but he had few theories as to the identities of his new adversaries. He was not afraid, but merely shocked that Sharlak employed tools to ensnare its victims in a similar fashion to how a man might catch a fish. He wondered whether they might be mortals after all.
Sadrik’s body flipped over the edge and disappeared into the murky water. The sewage splashed and thrashed violently like sharks in a feeding frenzy. A plume of blood painted the saltwater a grotesque red.
The assassin readied his blades and prepared for the worst. His glowing yellow eyes studied the rising and falling tide with a building readiness. Then he saw it.
An albino almost humanlike finned head emerged from the waters. The Sharlak stared back at him with large lidless, white eyes and hungry black pupils. Its skin was deathly pale as if the abysmal creature had never seen the light of day. The Sharlak had thick leathery shark-like skin. The creature opened its gaping maw and revealed its long lines of razor-like teeth stained with flecks of rotten flesh and old dried blood. It let out a horrible garbled wail spattering the bloody waters.
Shade threw a dagger at the Sharlak’s head, but the sea creature merely sunk back into the tide. The blade disappeared with a splash. The assassin feared the water had stopped the blade’s momentum. The Dark Elf unsheathed another dagger, rolled it over the back of his hand and coolly reinforced his stance. He felt his heart drumming loudly in his chest. At last a test to pit his wits.
The assassin heard another garbled wail this time down the right end of the corridor. It was echoed by another equally horrifying wail from the left corridor. A chorus of similar muddled shouts rose up, bounding off the walls of the sewers and then Shade saw the shark-men emerging from the waters. Tall hunched forms stalked towards him with outstretched claws protruding from long webbed fingers. Sharlak skin was not fully white, but gray at the back, mottled like the countershading of a Great White. The Sharlak had curved fins running down their scalps, down the forearms and forelegs, but they walked on two webbed feet like a man.
A small number of Sharlak carried the long hooked bone spears that had been the end of poor Sadrik, tied to their offhands by ropes. Shade guessed this was how the shark-men pulled their victims in. A scarred Sharlak brandished a strange bone sword lined with shark teeth. He must have been the pack-leader. He jeered at the others. Shade temporarily froze in wonder. He was amazed at their use of simple tools. He also noted at how peculiarly they draped kelp about their loins to form a disturbing and disastrous attempt at grass-skirts.
The pack-leader charged him waving his shark-toothed sword. Shade tucked into a roll and evaded the attack, but he could not strike back. The other Sharlak ascended upon him with outstretched claws and bared teeth.
The assassin wheeled to the side. He ducked as a spear sailed overhead. Shade danced around his enemies biding his time, patiently waiting for the right moment to present itself. He savored the looks of frustration and surprise on his enemy’s scaled faces.
The lead Sharlak roared in fury and revealed the full terrifying length of its dripping wet maw. Shade actually took a step back. He was not so much alarmed by the long lines of shark-like teeth, but the shocking two-foot length by which the Sharlak extended its powerful jaws. ‘How could such a human-like skull stretch to such unthinkable lengths?’ he wondered. He stared into its slavering palate. He momentarily lost himself in its dark and dreadful abyss. His eyes widened at the bits of flesh that had once been Sadrik and realized he would soon be next. The lissome assassin shook off his daze and refocused.
Another Sharlak thrust his spear at the lone Dark Elf, but Shade deflected the attack. He dragged his dagger across the shark-man’s right cheek. He was surprised when the Sharlak went down coughing and choking on its own blood, but then the assassin realized he had slit it across the gills.
The other Sharlak howled in rage, each dreadful creature flexing its own powerful jaws. Two Sharlak charged him on either side waving their claws madly, their gaping jaws dripping wet with saliva. The assassin back-flipped across the canal and landed on the opposite walkway. The maneuver took the Sharlak momentarily by surprise who glared at him from the across the waterway.
Shade allowed a cocky grin to spread across his lips. A bone spear caught him in the shoulder and sent him crashing into the back wall. The assassin’s heart skipped a beat. He was pinned in a sitting position against the wall. He feared that spear had driven in deep just below his shoulder blade. His hands felt around madly until he gripped the spear. He exhaled in relief. The spear had only grazed him. It had penetrated the seam of his leather jerkin and gotten lodged in the wall. He struggled to free himself, but he could not dislodge the spear. He was trapped!
Several more Sharlak emerged from the waters as the others across the walkway dove in. The Sharlak reappeared and soon seven hungry shark-men dashed across the pavement claws outstretched and horrid jaws agape.
Shade struggled and slipped suddenly into unseen form.
The Sharlak stopped in their tracks momentarily stunned at their meal’s unexplained disappearance. The assassin remained perfectly still against the wall. He watched as the Sharlak sniffed the air and stalked steadily closer to him. He silently retrieved his dagger, sliced through the top seam of his armor and freed himself. He crouched low his daggers ready in his hot clammy hands. The grin returned to his invisible lips as the hunted was once again reborn the hunter.
Shade waited for the perfect moment.
Two Sharlak caught his sent. They stretched out their necks and their jaws widened into terrifying maws. They roared as if to drive fear into his heart when he suddenly struck. He opened up their windpipes. The pair collapsed dead. The other Sharlak roared in outrage, but he sprung forward.
The assassin cut three more at the gills and they too went down shrieking. He rolled across the pavement. He whirled around and dropped out of unseen form. The pack-leader and a Sharlak spearman growled at him, but hesitated after seeing the short work he had made of their kinsmen.
“Come on you two, fight me,” he grinned in challenge.
The pack-leader shook his shark-toothed sword at the spearman and motioned at Shade. The spearman’s hand trembled slightly. He wound the rope tighter around his arm and raised his spear. Shade flashed the creature a glare and he hesitated yet again. The pack-leader snarled at its cowardly minion, spit at its webbed feet and charged.
Shade parried blow after blow as the pack-leader rained down a surprisingly complex combination. The assassin remained in intense concentration as he worked off his staggered shock in facing a skilled swordsman.
Shade blocked blow after blow, knocking shark teeth off, but he could not turn the duel to his advantage. One misplaced step would be his last. He barely caught the spearman’s spear throw out of the corner of his eye. He ducked just long enough for the spear to whisk past him, but the pack-leader seized the assassin by the neck and pinned him up against the wall. The Sharlak lifted him. The spearman dragged his spear across the ground as he reeled it in for another go.
The Dark Elf heard the cartilage flex in the pack-leader’s jaws. It blasted a hot breath reeking of brine and death in his face. He felt the Sharlak’s long slobbering tongue taste him. It licked him slowly up the cheek.
The assassin seethed through his teeth. He ran his dagger across the Sharlak’s right shoulder. He slipped out from und
er the pack-leader’s grip. He slid under the shark-man’s legs and rolled to a stop.
The spearman threw the spear again, but this time Shade not only dodged the throw, but cut the rope as it whisked past him through the air.
The assassin spun around. He unleashed his own deadly combination bearing down hard and fast with his two daggers. The pack-leader clumsily parried the blows, but he was no match. Shade cut the Sharlak pack-leader first at the arms, then at the knees and finally just above the heart slicing cleanly through the aorta.
The pack-leader blinked. Death froze over his face. He toppled into the water and disappeared with a bloody splash.
Shade grinned devilishly at the only remaining Sharlak. He brandished his daggers dangerously. His glowing yellow eyes burned in challenge begging his opponent to be foolish enough to attack.
The spearman looked down at its severed rope and then at its spear which lay far beyond its reach. The shark-man took one last look at the deadly Dark Elven assassin and plunged back into the filthy seawater. It disappeared with barely a ripple and swam away.
Shade waited, blades ready for a time, but the Sharlak never resurfaced again. He tucked his blades away and spat with a disdainful sneer, “Coward.”
Suddenly, the assassin felt a pair of strong scaled arms wrap around him. He was ripped violently off the ground and whisked through the air. He struggled in vain, realizing to his horror he had forgotten. The other hunter had come….
Chapter Twelve:
Lewd’s Hand
Shade was momentarily stunned as his attacker whisked him through the air. He struggled against his assailant’s hold, but could not escape. The tunnel rushed past them in staggered gray blurs. He could not move his arms, but his fingers felt horns protruding from long oily black hair. He grabbed onto a horn. His foe drove him headlong through the air, a pair of massive leathery wings flapping through the obscurity. What was this foul demon?
The assassin extended his thumb and jabbed at his attacker’s right eye. He felt his foe shake his head and knew he must have hit his mark. They dropped altitude and veered sideways, but Shade hit a brick wall hard. The impact knocked the wind out of him. He collapsed on a hard unforgiving stone walkway.
He coughed and gasped for breath. He rubbed his spinning head and pushed himself quickly to his feet. He staggered momentarily. He knew taking too much time to recover could prove fatal. He pulled out his daggers, his eyes still scrambling to refocus. He heard the loud rush of a waterfall.
Three tall winged figures stood watching him in cold brooding impatience. He concentrated and the three figures merged into one. The figure was tall and lean but heavily muscled, clad in iron-studded leather with spiked shoulder plates black as night. A dragonish face sneered at him, his teeth looked like pointed human canines. It was Lewd’s Hand. The Hand waited patiently, forgoing the opportunity to seize on the opening. They had hit the ground at the edge of a drain. A waterfall foamed as the sewage emptied into a lower sewer. He thought he saw the white forms of more Sharlak in the waters, but he could not take his eye off his foe.
Shade sneered back, his hands finding their way to his daggers. Lewd’s Hand already brandished his jagged black sword. The two assassins locked eyes and for a moment all that could be heard was the loud trickling of sewer water.
“I should have known it was you,” the Dark Elf said, “you shall regret this small mercy. How could you allow your only chance to slay me to slip so easily from your grasp?”
“Enough words,” the Hand growled back, “you and I are above the toilsome waggle of tongues. Now we shall find out once and for all who is top blade.”
Shade nodded and he stood ready. “Very well.”
The Hand flapped his great wings. He flipped forward and landed directly in front of the Dark Elf. The Drakor spun around and swung hard.
Shade brought his dagger up to parry. Their blades met with a piercing clash. The Hand hacked and slashed, left then right, high then low, but every time Shade parried. The dragon-man brought his sword down in a powerful double-handed blow. The Dark Elf brought his blades up to block. Lewd’s Hand beat his great wings allowing him to transform his attack into a swift cross-slash.
Shade back-flipped. He felt the very tip of the Hand’s black sword graze his neck. The Dark Elf rubbed the cut. It was little more than a nick caused by shaving, but even a scratch in a duel of this caliber came at the price of pride. The Drakor’s coal black lips twisted into an arrogant grin. He chortled softly.
Shade frowned fiercely. He had fought many Drakor and he knew their ability to fly made them unpredictable and dangerous, but never had he dueled one who had mastered his aerial acrobatics to such a degree of skill. He knew he couldn’t allow the Hand’s ability to reverse his momentum in midair to throw him off. He had to regain control. The Dark Elf sprung forward unexpectedly.
Lewd’s Hand had been in the middle of his own maneuver. He had to twist sideways to evade Shade’s forward thrust. The recovery put him off balance and he landed flatly on his feet. The Dark Elf followed up with his offhand and stabbed at the Hand’s heart. The Drakor’s eyes widened. He had been baited and could not shirk the attack. He muttered the words of magic. He froze petrified. Shade delivered the deathblow, but his blade snapped in half.
Shade stepped back and realized what happened. A motionless statue stood before him. The Hand had turned himself to stone. ‘Accursed Maag’dorum Magic!’ Shade thought, ‘why didn’t I recognized it before?’ He did not allow his opponent a moment to dispel his magic and launch a counterattack. He whirled around and kicked the petrified Drakor in the stomach with a spinning back kick.
The statue hardly lifted, but tipped just enough to topple over and disappear into the sewage with a whopping plunk.
The Dark Elf discarded his broken dagger and retrieved a new one. He reinforced his stance and watched the rushing waters.
The Hand broke through the water’s surface and soared through the air. He flipped in midair, landed on the opposite walkway. He drew his whip. He raised his sword and cracked his whip in his offhand. He spread his great wings and leapt over the sewer canal landing wordlessly in front of the Dark Elf.
The Drakor snarled. His serpentine eyes twinkled darkly at his foe. Shade’s glowing yellow eyes burned in challenge and the assassins collided again.
The Dark Elf’s left dagger clashed with the black blade, but he kept his right dagger ready. The Hand cracked his whip. Shade cart-wheeled to the side just as the whip struck the ground. The Drakor brought his sword down in a savage downward slash. The Dark Elf had to bring both daggers up for parry.
Clash!
Shade back-flipped, but another whiplash caught him in the chin. The Dark Elf felt the dab of blood on his face. The Hand grinned, but then the smirk dropped away as he noticed the long abrasion across the back of his hand administered to him during Shade’s retreat. The Dark Elf grinned darkly as the wound bled far more fiercely. Droplets of dark Drakoran blood dribbled to the floor.
“You fight well, Hand,” said Shade, “but it won’t be enough.”
The Hand grimaced and swung his whip around his head.
Shade darted in for the opening, but the Hand struck. The Dark Elf dropped backward and evaded the blow. He tried for another opening, but the Hand struck again and again driving him backward. Shade ducked. He made one last attempt to find an opening. He clenched his teeth as the whip tore through his leather armor and bit down hard into his right shoulder. The Drakor yanked the whip out hard, tearing out flesh. The Dark Elf momentarily cried out in pain. Enraged, Shade threw his left dagger. The blade sunk deep into the Hand’s left thigh.
Lewd’s Hand groaned. He spread his great wings. He lifted off and flew down the corridor disappearing into the gloom. Shade dropped to one knee and stuffed a cloth under his leather armor to blot the bleeding. He did not dare risk bandaging himself now. He rose slowly. The pain burned in his veins, but he used it to feed his adrenaline. He withdrew another d
agger and waited.
The Hand roared fiercely, his guttural voice bounding off the walls of the tunnel, from somewhere far down the pitch black corridor. The Dark Elf snorted in amusement, but then the sewers went suddenly silent.
Shade waited. A draft blew his long black hair across his dark features. His night vision pierced the darkness. He waited for the Hand to reappear.
Lewd’s Hand reemerged from the gloom and soared towards Shade.
The Dark Elf readied himself. He would have to strike quickly. Then just before the two assassins collided the Hand disappeared. He mysteriously reappeared behind Shade and kicked him from behind. Shade hit his head against the wall, but quickly recovered. He swung his blades up to block. The Drakor soared past him until he inexplicably disappeared once again.
The Dark Elf’s yellow eyes shifted nervously. How had Lewd’s Hand slipped past his guard? The dragon-men had no knowledge of shadow, cloak or teleportation spells. Shade set his back against a wall to limit his exposure.
Suddenly, the Hand dropped down right in front of him as if he had plummeted through the ceiling, but this time Shade was ready. He dodged the Drakor’s whip and parried the sword strike with his left dagger. He slashed just under the left shoulder plate, leaving a nasty gouge across his foe’s chest.
Lewd’s Hand groaned and flew backward. He cracked his whip again. The whip wrapped around Shade’s ankle and snapped tight. He pulled hard causing Shade to fall and took flight.
Shade felt himself pulled into the air. He dangled wildly from the whip as his head, shoulders and arms smacked against the foul seawater. The Dark Elf pulled up and tried to unravel the coil bound around his ankle, but he knocked into a canal wall. The impact swung him away before the momentum carried him back to the wall. He scraped along the course brick faces. His armor tore, his flesh scraped.
