Death Flag

  Madison took a minute to take stock of what had just happened, and he wasn’t pleased by what he saw. The man carrying the shield had to be a full foot shorter than Madison, which put him at just over five feet tall, and he was wielding a short, spiked club in one hand and a large, round shield in the other. Although the shield itself was constructed from a study-looking lumber, it had been reinforced with a metal outer rim, no doubt to hold it together and stop it from shattering under the impact of large weapons, and it was wide enough that it covered most of the stocky man’s body. With his head ducked down and the shield held up, Madison could only just barely see the man’s shins and boots peeking out from underneath—neither of which provided a likely target.

  He quickly glanced from side to side to make sure that no one else was about to interpose themselves into his path and then took a deep breath. He had to figure out how he was going to get past that shield and either kill the man carrying it or take out the swordsman he had only narrowly missed. Without thinking about it for more than a second, he decided his only course of action was just to take action. He didn’t have the luxury of standing around in the middle of a battlefield and plotting things out. It was his fault for not knowing how to tackle a defensive shield like this, so he was going to have to adapt on the fly.

  Even though he knew that it was going to be turned away, he struck out first with a strong, horizontal attack. He aimed the blow so that only the upper quarter of the sword would come in contact with the shield since he knew that it was going to be deflected anyway, but he wanted to test exactly how strong the man was and how well the shield was going to hold up. He had already been thrown back once, which suggested the short man was quite stout, but he needed to know what he was up against. He also needed to know how long the man’s reach was with that club. He didn’t expect it to be very long, since striking out would expose at least his arm and likely half his body with it if he were to get in range, but Madison had been surprised before.

  His sword bounced off of the shield will a dull thud remarkably similar to an axe on wood, and Madison cursed his luck even though he had expected as much. He had barely left a scratch on the shield, and he knew then that hacking through it or tearing it asunder wasn’t going to be an option. That meant he had to bait the man into making a mistake or somehow find a way around it. Madison aimed a high thrust at the man’s face, and the shield snapped back into position and pressed upward, easily turning Madison’s sword away before it could do any damage. If he had overextended any, that simple maneuver would have thrown him off balance as well—something he made a mental note of.

  Madison backed off then, took a full step back, and started circling around to the right so that his back would be up against the tent. He was still conscious of the fact that someone could come in at any moment and jump him from behind, and he figured that having the shelter at his back would at least give him some modicum of protection from that happening. It also let him know exactly where Erin was at all times and gave him the peace of mind that came with knowing that someone hadn’t slipped past him and gotten to her.

  He swung around with a high, horizontal one-handed attack that was aimed at around shoulder height but kept his sword’s reach pulled back a good bit. His last few attacks had been at full reach, and he wanted to lure the man in a bit if could. The man leaned back and away from the attack rather than blocking it with his shield, and Madison’s sword zipped harmlessly by in front of him. Madison quickly grabbed the sword with his other hand to arrest the momentum and then stabbed it forward from an off-handed position, driving down at the man’s feet. The man stepped forward, allowing the tip of Madison’s sword to pass through into the dirt, and then slammed his shield down onto Madison’s blade. The metal ring holding the shield together rang out as it struck his sword, and the man cursed loudly as he quickly backed away.

  Madison smiled to himself as he took note of that little trick as well. That was two things that this man had unknowingly taught him to look out for, and he wouldn’t be quick to forget them. If his blade had been anything less than what it was, there was a good chance that it would have broken in half right then and there. Madison knew exactly how strong the man was by how he had thrown him around and how easily he was able to absorb Madison’s blows. If there were even the smallest imperfection in his sword, that would have been the end of the fight for him.

  Madison took a half-step back and then lunged forward, bringing his sword around in an overhanded attack aimed at the fighter’s right shoulder, and the stout, little man changed tactics once again. He crouched down while throwing the shield up above his head so that it covered him completely and absorbed the blow while tilting the shield to the side. Madison’s attack was turned away, and the man thrust the shield forward, slamming its edge into Madison rib cage. He realized the attack was coming the moment he saw the man adopt that strange stance, but there was little he could do to stop it. He felt the metal rim dig into his midsection, and a light flashed through his vision. Madison staggered back, sucking in small, short breaths. His armor had absorbed a good bit of the blow, and he was thankful once again that he was wearing it. As it was, he was afraid that drawing in a deep breath would cause him a lot of pain just then, and he could only imagine how many bones would have been shattered if he weren’t wearing it at all.

  He didn’t have time to recover, however, and that strange battle sense he seemed to possess saved him yet again. The short man brought his spiked club around in a follow up attack for the first time, and Madison automatically threw up his left arm to block it. Two of the nails on the end of the club struck against the with the vambraces on his forearm. Madison twisted his arm around at the last moment, knocking the club away from him after the fact, but he couldn’t follow up with anything. The fighter thrust his shield forward once again, and Madison jumped back into the tent in order to avoid it. Unfortunately, the bandit he had stabbed to death was still lying in the doorway. Madison’s heel caught on the body, and he fell over backward before he could even begin to think about regaining his balance. Arms flailing, Madison dropped his sword and landed hard on the flat of his back.

  A small groan escaped him along with the breath he had been holding onto, and he saw stars for a moment as he regained his bearings. He cast a glance toward the corner Erin had occupied before and was relieved to still find her there. He subconsciously knew that she couldn’t have gone anywhere, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want the affirmation. Groaning again, he sat up and grabbed his sword just as the shield-bearing warrior threw back the tent flap and peered inside. Madison thrust his sword out at the man’s face with one hand, but the blow was quickly deflected away. He knew that he wasn’t going to do any real damage from a sitting position, but he couldn’t allow the man to take up a position there in the entranceway either. Madison couldn’t even stand fully upright inside the tent, much less wield his sword, and he’d have to either go through the side or effectively be trapped with Erin if that happened.

  His feint hadn’t work the first time, but he kept at it anyway. He grasped the sword with both hands and made several quick, shallow stabs directly at the man’s face. It was an awkward angle to attack from, though one that was easy to defend against, and it wasn’t something that he could likely keep up for very long. Thankfully, the sturdy warrior relented and took a step back, allowing Madison to push himself fully upright.

  He had just started to take a step through the entranceway when he heard Shayna scream. Her high, ear-piercing shrill tore his attention away from the man in front of him and to where she was engaged with the black-clad swordsman. He was only just able to make out her slim figure in the corner his field of view, and he didn’t like what he saw. The young woman was backed up against the firepit, desperately trying to defend against two men at once. Madison had been so intent on getting around the shield in front of him that he had failed to keep track of where his other opponent had gone. The katana-bearing bandit had apparently moved to e
ngage Shayna, and it like winning the battle. Shayna was fairly competent as a fighter, but Madison knew from firsthand experience how fast the swordsman was. She would have been hard-pressed to defend against him alone, much less him and another person at the same time. Her scream had been occasioned by the sword that had pierced into her shoulder, and even as he watched, the swordsman was vying for a second attack.

  Madison lowered his head and charged the wooden wall blocking his path. He felt a ball of fury and rage and concern form in his belly like a core of molten lead, and quite suddenly, the man in front of him was little more than an annoying impediment. Madison slammed into the shield shoulder-first, and he was stopped dead in his tracks as the man stalwartly absorbed Madison’s weight and momentum. Madison grabbed ahold of the top of the shield, however, before the man could shove him back and away like he had before. When the stocky man tried to thrust forward, Madison jumped up as high as he could while pulling his feet up off the ground, allowing the man to step forward without actually pushing him back. His weight pressed down on the shield, and the man lost the fight against gravity and the combined weight of Madison and the heavy shield. The metal edge slammed down into the hard dirt and dug in, and Madison knew he had just won the fight.

  His long sword snapped around a moment later at the same time the man’s club swung forward. He felt the long, metal nails dig down into the only exposed skin his armor afforded, the small gap where his shoulder pauldrons ended and met the cowl he wore, but it was the wrong side of his body to affect his blow. Pain exploded through Madison’s’ neck and shoulder at the same moment his sword buried itself in the side of the man’s neck. It wasn’t clean by any means, but it was more than enough to kill someone.

  Madison collapsed forward onto the shield, pressing it forward into the now-dying man, and dropped his grip on his own weapon. He reached up and recklessly ripped the club out of his shoulder. He knew that he was likely causing more harm than he was doing any good, but he couldn’t spare the time to remove it correctly. He pushed himself to his feet unsteadily, picked up his sword, and then stepped around the dying shield-bearer. He staggered forward a small step and was slammed with a new wave of pain from his shoulder. He felt a warm, wet sensation worm its way down his chest, and he knew that the wound was likely bleeding quite profusely underneath his armor. He tentatively raised his left arm to test it and grimaced when another wave of pain shot through him.

  Gritting his teeth and pressing the pain into the back of his mind, Madison pushed forward. His first two steps were weak and shambling, but he quickly found his balance and broke into a run. He vaulted over the fallen bodies of the K’yer Utane students, stabbed his sword down into the ground blade-first, and then slammed into the two men who had Shayna hemmed in, driving through them as hard as he could while reaching out and grabbing ahold of the swordsman. All three men went flying back and into the fire pit, and Madison dragged the swordsman down into the pit with him.

  He felt the fiery heat envelop him, and the last thing he saw before the reddish-orange flames consumed his vision was a shower of sparks go flying up as the first man collided with the wood and ashes. Madison heard the two men scream out in pain and shock and fear as he pushed himself up with his left hand. The first man he had collided with rolled out of the pit, completely covered in flames, and Madison saw him briefly as he rolled around on the ground, trying to extinguish those that had caught on his clothes. But he turned his attention back to the other.

  Rage flared up within him as bright and as hot as the fire he had fallen into, and he let it burn unchecked. He knew that he was in a precarious position, but he didn’t care. He had survived walking into the fire pit in the testing room, and he knew that he had some uncanny resistance to the elements that neither he nor Warren nor any Guardian had been able to explain, and he was banking on the fact that an actual fire wouldn’t do any more damage than either of the magical ones he had experienced. All he knew was that this man had dogged him time and again in two different battles, and it was time for that to end. He had stabbed Shayna, someone whom Madison was supposed to protect, and that was unacceptable. Whether it was by Randall, his cronies, or some random troll in a random cave under a mountain, Shayna somehow managed to get hurt every time he took his eyes off of her. The young girl had gone from one fight to the next since the moment he had met her, and yet he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t protect her. He failed to protect her, time and again, and that was what fueled his rage. He had failed to kill this swordsman on two separate occasions, and he had come back to hurt someone he cared about.

  Madison’s right hand grasped onto the swordsman’s armor, and he refused to let go. The man thrashed about, writhing around in the red-hot embers, but Madison wouldn’t let him escape. He jerked the man toward him as hard as he could, and the man’s screams were cut off abruptly as Madison’s forehead smashed into his nose. Madison pushed himself up and on top of the other man, straddling across his waist, and brought his heavy, mailed fist down into the swordsman's face. His first punch landed on the man’s cheekbone, his second right next to his first, and he continued to rain down blows as fast as he could raise his arm and drive it down again. The man’s cheekbone gave way first with a loud crack, and the side of his face collapsed with the next. He felt the man’s body stop struggling underneath him, no longer fighting to stay alive, but it wasn’t enough. Madison reached back and slammed his fist down into the man’s face one last time, and he heard the man’s skull shatter open as it bounced against a rock.

  He pushed himself upright then and staggered out of the fire, gasping for breath and completely oblivious to everything else that was going on around him. His gaze locked onto the man who had rolled out of the fire. That bandit had managed to extinguish most of the flames, but his clothes were a sooty, ruined mess, and they were still smoking in several places. His skin was exposed where his clothing had been burned away, revealing a patchwork combination of charred black and bright, raw-looking red. Madison took one step forward, and the man quailed up at him from the flat of his back. His eyes grew wide with terror as Madison took another step, and the look of fear on his face was something akin to a man who had just seen a devil. Madison reached down and picked up the fallen katana-like blade at his feet. It had likely gone flying from the swordsman’s grasp when Madison collided with him, flying off to the other side of the firepit, and now it was going to be the instrument of this man’s death. Madison stopped when he was standing next to the prone man, hefted the sword with both hands, and jammed it down into his chest.

  He turned away from the man, staggering forward one half step as he turned, and took in a deep breath as he surveyed the scene of the battle. The once-clean campsite was littered with corpses. Some were missing limbs, some were littered with arrows like pincushions, and some had fallen at broken, impossible angles with grievous, gaping wounds. The only thing each had in common was that they were all still and unmoving and covered in blood. Everything was splattered with it. There were pools of it on the ground, it was splattered against the formerly-pristine white canvas tents, and it coated his survivor’s armor.

  He turned and looked back at Shayna and found her staring at him with an unreadable expression. She was still on her feet, though she was slumped to the side and clearly favoring her injured shoulder, holding it with her opposing hand in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. The hood she wore had fallen back, exposing her wild and unkempt hair, and she was as covered in blood and mud as he was. He took several slow steps toward her, and he watched as her eyes grew wider and her breathing quickened, the rising and falling of her chest growing faster with each step he took. He stopped in front of her, and she stared up at him through a curious, shocked expression without so much as moving.

  Erin burst forth from the tent at that moment, and she came flying around the camp at a speed that he didn’t know she was capable of. She skipped over the bodies like they weren’t even there, danced around the fire, and she di
dn’t stop until she reached him and Shayna. She instantly wrapped her arms around her sister, hugging her protectively, and looked up at Madison expectantly. Madison reached up with one hand, hesitated for a moment, and then rested it on Shayna’s head. The spell she was absorbed in broke the moment he touched her, and she came alive again. She blinked furiously, obviously riding herself of the stupor she had fallen into, and wrapped her good arm around Erin.

  Madison took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Warren walked up and joined them. He felt the anger and rage evaporate with that breath and the knowledge that all four of them were alive. Warren was walking with an obvious limp, and it looked like he had taken a few serious blows to his face as well. His right eye was already starting to change colors where someone had punched him, and he was holding his left arm against his body protectively. He stopped a few feet away and then leaned against his bow, using it to support his body weight.

  Madison looked back down at both of the girls and just shook his head. “One down. One to go,” he said resolutely.

  CHAPTER 22

  Madison sat and watched as Erin moved between the people from K’yer Utane, slowly going over their bodies and making sure that they were uninjured. The spell she had used was one that wasn’t made to harm them, only render them unconscious. Interestingly enough, it was a strange variation of the same spell that had been used to heal him before. The only difference was that it released a lot of pent-up magical energy all at once and did very little in the way of healing.

  “I didn’t even realize she could do such a thing,” Warren said from around a mouthful of food. “I didn’t realize anyone could, actually. I’m going to have to do a little more research into the healing fields when we get back. I realize now I’ve been woefully neglectful in those areas of my studies.”