Sir Wilhelm Jareth advanced upon the minotaur. The creature had one hand hidden behind its back, so the aging warrior watched for some kind of trick. Bortun held the great axe easily in one hand. His second hand snapped forward and flung a small throwing axe at the warrior. Jareth flew into motion, two hands on the hilt of the sword as he swung it defensively. Abriana’s fighter knocked the axe aside in mid-flight then stepped forward to strike the minotaur. The creature had to raise its own axe up to block the blow. Sparks flew from the head of the blade as the elven edge collided with it.
Of the three horses hitched at the church post, the flying axe hit one. It was completely unintentional by Jareth the deflected axe went that far, but the glancing blow lamed Loung’s horse.
Sir Wilhelm anticipated how to handle the large monster, if he stayed fast enough. Using wrist and forearms, twisting his hips as needed but never turning very far, his sword spun in vicious circles. Bortun had his axe in front of him, yet in order for a swing he needed to draw it back and make use of his reach. The elven bastard sword was swinging very fast, hitting left then right and occasionally switching to a straight downward swing. The magical weapon focused on speed and did not require much power behind the blows. The minotaur couldn’t risk cocking the axe back for a blow without risking a serious cut himself, so instead he withdrew to get out of the human’s reach. The head of the axe was demoted to a shield to block the swinging sword. Sparks flew each time the weapons connected. Sir Wilhelm gradually forced the slow, lumbering creature back. Sir Wilhelm began appreciating his lack of armor. One hit from the minotaur might kill him anyway, and without armor he could move faster and wouldn’t tire as easily.
Bortun used power and reach to keep opponents at bay, yet this human was practically bumping into him. He had to try a new tactic. Confident in his weapon and superior strength, he decided to simply shove the axe head forward, perhaps maybe knocking the human down and getting back an advantage. When the moment came, he thrust his axe forward as planned but the human stepped aside quickly. Jareth’s sword switched to a new attack, swinging up from below and knocking the axe up high. The next swing by the human came parallel to the ground and across his opponent’s midsection. Bortun couldn’t block; he had to hop back or be disemboweled. A line of blood was drawn through a rip in the thick hides he wore for protection; however, the scratch only served to remind him how close to losing he had just come. The eight foot tall creature brought the axe back in to protect himself, backing into the hitching post in front of the church. He was trapped.
Trestan hovered several paces behind where Sir Wilhelm fought. He wasn’t sure how he could help. Even if the minotaur’s axe didn’t scare him, he could be hit by Sir Wilhelm’s spinning blade. He avoided becoming too visible to the elf wizard for fear of an attack from that direction. Standing there with staff handy, he was contemplating what attack he should use on the minotaur when he felt a light touch on his back. Trestan heard a prayer uttered in a cold feminine voice.
“DeLaris, please stop this soul from moving. Relax his limbs like the coldness of death.”
Trestan’s reflexively turned to attack. Even as he tried, tingling and then numbness overcame his body. His vision spun as he fell. No matter how much he willed it, his limbs simply refused to work. He couldn’t tell if he retained his quarterstaff, until he heard it fall to the ground. Eventually, only his ears and eyes were left to him, as he lay helpless in the street.
The abbess kneeled over Trestan. He could only stare helplessly as she gazed upon him through her skull-helm. Those blue eyes might have seemed pretty if they had not been filled with such a cold loathing. He was terrified, watching helplessly as the dark cleric held the flail beside his head. He tried with all his will to move, but he couldn’t even feel his body. Trestan mourned his apparent fate. He wasn’t sure how much he would have changed his life, but he didn’t want to die on the street next to home. To his surprise, she lifted her weapon slowly and gently set the spiked ball on his forehead.
She spoke to him in a faraway voice. “In a tradition of my goddess that we observe on occasions, your life is claimed and spared. My goddess is the master of death, and she chooses or refuses it as she demands. This day your life was deemed over, until the goddess’ servant touched you with mercy. It is not mercy in the true sense, it is simply mastery over whether you live or die. This day is your lucky day, for she will allow you to live. Remember the control she has over your fate.”
Savannah lifted her weapon away from its threatening place on his forehead. She reached over to grab the dropped quarterstaff, then rose back to her feet. The dark abbess threw the staff onto the roof of the building next to the church. Trestan still had the practice pole-sword tucked in his belt, but knew it would do him little good even if he could move again before the battle concluded. Savannah stepped away, and he couldn’t move his head enough to see where she had gone. The young smith could barely turn his head towards the rest of the battle. He watched Jareth and the minotaur at the point where Bortun backed into the hitching post.
* * * * *
Loung heard Revwar’s request to kill the roof archer while reloading his blowgun for another shot. Cat slid her bolt into place first and brought her weapon in line. Loung had both hands on the hollow bamboo rod as she fired. The Tariykan let go with one hand and caught the missile once again. With a snap, it broke and fell to his feet to rest among the other broken bolts. Cat sighed and chided herself for not switching to an easier target. The next dart came and the half-elf dodged. She felt it brush by her dark hair and skim off her helmet.
She grabbed her belt claw and once again brought back the string on her crossbow. It fell into place with a click. Once done, she reached to the quiver strapped to her right calf and withdrew another bolt. As her agile fingers started to slide the bolt home, she looked towards the street to see how her opponent fared. All she saw in the spot where he had been standing was a discarded bamboo stick, as well as the small pile of broken bolts.
More than a little worried, she finished loading and got her finger on the trigger. She crouched closer to the front of the roof. Below, she looked over the scene as the other combatants moved about. She watched the minotaur backing up under an assault from a human warrior she hadn’t seen before. Not far away, closer to the prone Kashmer woman, the young smith she had met earlier was lying in the street. The dark cleric’s weapon was poised on his brow, though she seemed to be only talking with him. Cat scanned the street looking for the Tariykan. She sighted another danger. Lady Shauntay had feebly crawled closer to her downed guardian. Unnoticed by her, the wizard was approaching her from behind with his hands holding another magical trick. Cat raised the crossbow, aiming for the spellcaster.
The half-elf was tightening her pull on the trigger when interrupted by an attack from below. Two legs rose at the edge of the roof and scissor-kicked the missile weapon from her hands. The crossbow dropped into the street. The martial artist was doing a handstand on the sign over the door of the carpenter shop. From that position he had kicked her weapon the moment she leaned over the edge with it. Katressa had to get room to draw her sword, stepping back a couple paces. From her scabbard she drew out the silver, custom-made rapier. In front of her, Loung vaulted with a twist to land in a well-balanced stance on the roof. He pulled out a short-handled stick: a sickle-blade on one end, a fine chain dangling from the other end. Loung held the wood handle, while his other hand spun the weighted chain in a lazy circle. Katressa changed her grip slightly on the slender rapier, ready to use all her wits and agility. They stood for a moment, facing each other across the wood shingle roof.
Then they began a dance of weapons.
* * * * *
Lady Shauntay did not know if her blurry vision was from the effects of the fall, or the tears rolling down her perfumed cheeks. Her eyes had no other focus other than her guardian and friend, lying in a pool of blood. The noble’s daughter lost any concerns about her hairstyle, the fashion in w
hich she dressed, jewelry anyone wore, or her flirtations with the young village men. Her world had taken a sudden horrible turn, and she only wished her protector would stand tall for her again. Sahbin, unmoving, would never rise again. The horrific injury was appalling. Lady Shauntay could not bear to view her dead guardian any longer. She had to get up and run as fast as she could.
Somehow the young woman found the strength to climb to her feet. Her mansion and father were to the north, so she turned to run home. The way was blocked. Revwar stood there, holding a snake in one hand. “A kidnapping for you my princess, for I would rather the residents of your village not know what you saw. Reptiliath Nosutrum!”
The elf threw the snake. Lady Shauntay screamed and threw her hands up for protection. The enchanted snake’s body hit and started to coil around her. It took on the image of a rope, but squirmed and moved as a real snake. It pinned her arms and tightened around her legs. Lady Shauntay screamed once, before the elf started to tie a gag around her mouth. Soon, she was helpless.
* * * * *
Bortun moved his axe wildly, trying to pick off every swing that came at him. Sir Wilhelm’s attacked relentlessly. The minotaur would have been seriously wounded if the human hadn’t cared about the safety of the nearby horses. The minotaur tried to push forward, but the elvish sword moved too efficiently to allow the creature any room without risking a limb. Bortun decided to risk a kick while the weapons were joined, receiving a slash on the leg for his effort. Needing room, he decided to try a risky move to put the hitch post between them. The creature pushed forward, working hard to not get hit again for his trouble, and then dropped and rolled backwards. Bortun rolled his heavy bulk under the hitch post and onto the wooden boardwalk of the church.
From a short distance away on the street, Trestan watched Jareth do an amazing feat. The human warrior launched a furious downward strike. The sword cleaved through the hitch post, severing it as wood splinters flew away. It continued its descent by wounding the minotaur again, and even chopped a large splinter of wood out of the boardwalk. The blow seemed worthy of the minotaur itself. The magical power of the sword became apparent to the young smith.
Jareth stepped forward to end it, but the minotaur thrashed in a frenzy. One great arm swung at the human and he jumped over it. Then a reverse swing connected and sent Jareth to the ground as well. Human and minotaur rolled away as both tried to clamber to their feet. At that point Sir Wilhelm would have been open to an attack by Revwar, but the wizard was still occupied with the young noble. They got to their feet on opposite sides of a muscular draft horse, freed from the damaged hitch post. Jareth guessed by its size that it could carry the minotaur when he chose to ride. Large horses were bred in the mountains to the south to accommodate riders from large races. Neither Bortun nor Jareth wanted to injure the beast between them, yet as they moved they tried to figure a way they could gain a fighting advantage.
Finally, Sir Wilhelm got near the front of the mount and caught its attention. He extended one hand off the hilt of his sword and spoke some words softly. “Dear Abriana, free this creature’s mind of hostility and fear. Let it run wild and free for a while.”
Trestan gaped, (as much as he could), at seeing what must have been a miracle blessed by the warrior’s goddess. The large horse seemed to forget where it was. It turned to run free in the nearby meadows. By morning it would remember it left its rider, but until then it would frolic around the countryside. Bortun cursed as it ran off.
Sir Wilhelm stood without protection, without armor, and the minotaur could finally use his reach. Bortun pulled back his axe. Jareth didn’t run, only shifting a bit to one side. The axe swept in with all the minotaur’s power, but never connected with its target. Jareth jumped up and landed on the top of the empty relic’s stand on the village well. The great axe hit the side of the stand and chips of stone flew over the nearby relic lying in the street. From the marble stand, Sir Wilhelm launched himself through the air at the creature. The elvish sword flashed at Bortun’s head. The minotaur stumbled back and roared in anger at the sight of one of its horns lying in the street.
* * * * *
Silver rapier snaked in and out, trying to twist past the foreign weapon. Loung’s sickle-like blade constantly tried to hook and sweep the rapier aside during Cat’s attacks. His other hand whipped around the weighted chain on the other end of the handle. Katressa worked to uphold her balance on the loose roof, as the chain would occasionally swing at her head. The half-elf felt as if she fought two different weapons. She tried parrying the weighted chain end, only to face the human swinging the sickle in a wide arc using the remainder of the chain.
This backed Cat away from the main street end of the roof. She attacked again when he attempted to regain his hold on the sickle. Loung’s move appeared well-practiced; his hand gripped the wood handle and the chain whipped out to pull the rapier tip away from him. Again and again Katressa tried angling the rapier around his weapon to pierce him. The man had to work hard to block her strikes, but he stopped them all.
She tried drawing a dagger from behind her back. Sensing her distraction, Loung feigned an attack with his blade. Katressa parried as he anticipated. His chain whipped around the rapier’s hilt basket to disarm her. For a moment Cat held, but was pulled off balance. Loung snapped a kick into her right hand. The rapier became caught up in the chain and yanked free of her injured hand. Not wasting a moment, Katressa dropped low and spun around in a foot sweep. This time, Loung was caught by surprise as she knocked his feet out from under him. Still in a low crouch, she reversed the direction of her foot to kick him in the face. Loung lost the grip on his weapon. Blood ran from his nose and he rolled away. Cat jumped back to the ready as well.
Both immediately searched for their weapons. The sickle blade barely clung to a roof shingle. The chain from the other end of the handle stretched taut over the edge of the roof. The weighted end of the chain twisted around the basket hilt of the rapier. The silver rapier hung in midair over the yard between Trestan’s house and smithy. A tenuous hold existed where both weapons could easily fall. Loung dived for his weapon while Cat drew the dagger from behind her back. He got the fingers of one hand on the handle but was forced to block her dagger strike with his other arm. His forearm hit hers and stopped it short of hitting the mark. She pulled her dagger straight back and made a shallow cut across his arm. He yelled and rolled away, dislodging the weapons. The sickle blade went over the edge of the roof to land next to the rapier on the ground.
* * * * *
Jareth fought close to the minotaur again, moving as a blur. He swung left and right, while the tiring, wounded minotaur retreated. The axe head parried the first few strikes. Bortun thrust the axe forward again and the human batted it down. Sir Wilhelm went for the creature’s weakness. Only moving his forearms, one over the other, he spun the sword from axe handle to right shoulder in a fast movement. Bleeding from the new wound, the minotaur did not quite pull his axe in before the flat of the blade smacked his left hand. That hand dropped free of the handle as the same swing sliced a new cut in the creature’s left arm. Resilient and tough, minotaurs were still flesh and blood. The hides he wore over his naturally hard skin couldn’t withstand the magical edge of the elvish sword. Bleeding from half a dozen wounds, Bortun staggered and called for help. Sir Wilhelm struck the minotaur’s right hand, sending his axe tumbling to the ground.
The paladin of Abriana completely spun around and stabbed hard. The sword impaled the creature through the upper abdomen. Bortun let loose an agonizing, animal-like groan and fell to the ground. The quarter-ton, eight feet tall minotaur squirmed in the street, beaten by the human.
Trestan saw the next threat coming at his mentor, but had barely begun to feel objects and twitch around. He tried shouting a warning. A gurgle came out of his throat instead of words, but the older warrior heard. Sir Wilhelm raised his sword and turned to deal with the mage or abbess.
The elven mage stood to the side,
watching but not threatening him yet. At his feet the young noble struggled in the bonds of the snake-rope. The abbess Savannah had eyes on Jareth: hands outstretched in the throes of a spell. Using her goddess-given miracle of life over death, she created a new soldier to attack the human. As her summoning ended, she spat a quick spell and once again disappeared.
The living-dead creature lurched towards Jareth with its own two feet. One arm held high a sword; the other was still lying where the minotaur had severed it. The animated, dead body of Sahbin approached, unthinking and malevolent. It bore no memories of its previous life, nor a soul. A destructive spirit that had no use for air, food, or any other sustenance controlled the body. Only the thoughts of its creator burned in its essence. It was to kill Jareth by any means possible.
* * * * *
Katressa came at Loung with her dagger. Loung Chao regained his balance and attempted to rise. He avoided the first couple strikes, and then launched a low kick to force his opponent back. The half-elf moved away. She also kicked but it was half-hearted and stopped short. Now the man was on his feet, looking confident even though unarmed. His hands moved in some kind of pattern, waiting for Katressa to try another swing.
Cat changed her dagger grip, blade pointing up instead of down. She feinted one way, and then switched direction to stab upwards at his chest. Loung grabbed her arm with his left hand and rolled behind it so that her dagger arm stretched past him. He brought his right elbow into her ribs. The dark leather armor helped deflect some of the blow but Cat was in trouble and she knew it. She tried wrestling her dagger free and attempted a left-hand punch in his side with her free hand. Loung retained the advantage. They turned as they fought, trying to outmaneuver each other. Cat was elbowed hard a few more times. With Cat’s weapon arm stretched upwards and out behind his back, held by his left hand, Loung got his right foot behind her legs. His right hand went between them to get in front of her, and he made an open hand slap at her face. He ducked his head as well. Cat was knocked back and tripped over his legs, yet her weapon arm remained twisted in his grip.
The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path Page 7
