“Let Him Go!” another shouted before Venneith felt something thunderously strike his side.
More surprised by the attack then stunned, Venneith carelessly threw the marked young man to the ground, whimpering and in shock. Round the knight the haze hadn’t yet lifted, but it had become much thinner than it was moments ago. Still, this left Venneith vulnerable to any unseen attack, like the arrow that now stuck in the side of his armor which the knight effortlessly removed.
He then attempted to look about before his helmet suddenly became struck by a torrent of water. It seeped into his helmet, invading both his breath and sight. Venneith knew the boy that appealed to Reuth was attempting to suffocate and drown him within his own helmet. Quickly, the knight retreated a few steps back, hoping to exceed the welder’s area of influence over the water. The water then fell docile, seeping out of his helmet, freeing his vision and breath.
With his vision now clear he had a brief moment to take in his surroundings.
Currently Venneith retained a safe distance from the group of two that wielded Euths. The one that threw dirt at Venneith stood closest as the spearboy handed the waterboy one of his weapons.
Glancing over his shoulder, Venneith expected to see Amyth laying incapacitated, yet he was surprised to discover that he was nowhere to be found. Not by the wayside or in plain view of the road. No, Venneith guessed Amyth had recovered and now hid in the brush. But for what reason, the knight wondered. Why not act now and shoot these juveniles dead?
There then Venneith’s armor was struck by a volley of dirt clumps, catching the knight rather by surprise. It wasn’t as if he needed Amyth’s aid, the knight admitted as he turned to face the boy who had manipulated the dirt as he now advanced. Whatever the case, with or without Amyth, Venneith’s armor would withstand any attack that came next.
Venneith watched as the boy weaved yet another xull as he shouted, “J-Just Die Already!” He then charged Venneith head on as he raked his right fist through the dirt, compelling stones and clogs of dirt to stick to his fist and forearm, creating an earthly gauntlet.
More intrigued that threatened, the knight made no attempt to prevent whatever attack this boy had in mind. He allowed him to demonstrate as he raised his first to the knight, ready to strike, before letting loose with his strongest hook across the knight’s helmet before quickly withdrawing to back-hand Venneith in quick succession. It would be a lie if Venneith denied the power of this boy’s strikes. That, coupled with the hardened dirt and stones that clinged to his fist, would surely mean any common man would have fallen very injured if not dead. However, Venneith wasn’t any common man and as such he was rather disappointed, having already seen enough with much to say.
First off, this young man was too reckless. His attack was well-projected far in advance before he ever followed through to land his first hit on the knight. This left plenty of opportunity for a counter-attack or parry, and the knight demonstrated by intercepting the boy’s next attack, a right hook like the one before, only this time the fist never found its mark as it became entangled between the knight’s bicep and forearm, secured and unable to be withdrawn despite the boy’s struggle.
The knight then let loose with his own attack as he struck the boy’s abdomen with a powerful palm thrust that rendered him painfully winded as he lurched forward into the knight’s embrace, unable to catch his breath. Venneith then utilized the arrow he liberated from his armor, thrusting it deep into the boy’s chest where he knew the heart to be, killing him instantly.
Satisfied with his work, Venneith allowed the boy to slip from his grip and fall to the floor dead. The knight then turned to the two young men that remained, both of whom stood stunned, unable to move or act in the face of such an opponent as Venneith.
When they made no clear advancement, Venneith then spoke loudly and clearly: “Surrender now or be destroyed.” With his helmet pointed to the two before him, the knight lacked the ability to spy the archer who no doubt had relocated and drew ready to let loose again upon his armor. “You now stand accused of a multitude of crimes and/or are associated with men of these crimes: banditry, robbery, murder, attempted murder, attempted murder of the lord’s men, property damage, larceny and the forsaking of Myndre’s call, which I will state far exceeds many of the other crimes mentioned. Surrender now and resist not, for if you do then by the blessing of my lord I shall exact punishment as I see fit. Let it be known that it is only befitting that I administer death for these transgressions. Answer me now wisely and again, resist no more.”
They stood there rather stunned, not knowing how to carry out their next act, if there be any. That was until the one with the multitude of sharpened shafts spoke first, saying, “Never! You Killed My Friends!”
“They made the decision to resist and attacked,” the knight argued, speaking as if this were nothing more than a misunderstanding. “I did nothing more then defend myself, now, did I?”
“You’re an indoctrinated puppet of the lord who uses religion and gods to further a pointless war, killing thousands of us,” this time it was the water wielder who spoke in place of his peer.
“Indoctrinated puppet,” the knight mused as he looked down to see the sword of the marked blades-boy laying in the dirt at his feet. Kneeling down, Venneith took the blade in his hand before standing it upright in the ground, resting his hand upon the pommel to begin removing it one twist at a time. “You’re a savage little man,” the knight retorted, as cool and calm as ever. “A savage little man who took to crime and thievery, foregoing the glory of Myndre’s call in life, while transgressing the lord’s very command.” With the pommel removed, the knight stood, letting the blade fall flat as his hand began to glow a smoldering red with the pommel held tightly within his grasp. “You desert your duty, and would rather see Carthol fall then defend that which has provided you so much, only to spit in its face while seeking to drive Carthol to disorder and unrest.”
The knight began to advance on them, one easy step after another, compelling the two to back away quite nervously as his fist began to leak a bright red, magma-like cream. It seeped through his fingers and coated his knuckles as the pommel melted within his scalding grasp. “I fight for order at whatever cost. You fight for personal gain and leisure and would take any measure necessary to achieve that goal. Such a thing is quite selfish and unjust indeed,” he cooly declared as the metal knob within his hand had completely melted, coating his armored hand entirely. “Such a punishment befitting crimes such as yours is death. So sit still, will you? Be unmoved so that I may finish you rightly.”
Crossing wrist over wrist, Venneith weaved a single xull, one that commanded Deuth in two ways. The first was to spin, the second was to sharpen, and by Venneith’s command the melted scalding metal of the pumble rose from his hand to form a scalding halo that circled his his hand at immense speeds that produced a near-defending ring.
“Magma Chakram!” the knight chanted as he withdrew his arm before letting loose and uttering a single word.“Release!”
Venneith then threw his arm, knowing full well he would hit his mark, killing the two in one swift attack that would surely cleave them in two in a fiery explosion the moment it left his hand. The buzzing and whirring of the Chakram would be the last thing they heard and saw within the world before Vrueth was to greet them.
However, no such thing happened as his arm became entangled, throwing off his trajectory, leaving his attack to veer short and off to the west. The Magma Chakram cleaved through the foliage with ease before embedding itself within the ground, whereupon the land upturned in an earthly explosion as trees and bushes became uprooted and flung about.
“Intriguing,” Venneith muttered as he glanced to his right arm only to spy a thin rope that had leashed itself around his arm with a weighted sack that both restrained and hindered his attack.
Turning to see the one who committed this intrusive act, Venneith found it to be a man he previously thought to be dispatched, for it
was the man Amyth had wounded with his second shot. An easy asset of the battlefield to forget about for he had lain inactive for quite a while, only now he stood with his right arm dangling uselessly, with an arrow bored though his elbow.
Turning entirely to gaze at this injured man, Venneith found him to be somewhat of a slinger, utilizing weighted ropes and cords hung about his waist and shoulders he knew to be bolas. Perhaps his intention was to trip Astregra and Benphal from above or entangle and capture the riders. Whatever his original aim it mattered not, for now he stood there bleeding, with a single cord wrapped around Venneith’s wrists.
“A fine surprise,” Venneith murmured. “And here I was about to deliver these two to Vreuth himself to be escorted to Teuse and the afterlife, however void it might be given their circumstances.”
Pulling upon the cord tied to Venneith’s hand and secured to his waist, the slinger pitifully attempted to pull Venneith away, with gritting teeth and ambition to rival most men. “R-Run!” he stammered in his deliriously weakened state. “Run Away!”
“Dettetcheny!” one hopelessly called.
“What are you doing?” the other then pressed.
Quite amused, if not impressed, Venneith said, “You’re quite the courageous one, are you?”
Disregarding the knight’s enquiry, he answered, “I’m s-saving your lives…” Again he pulled and tugged as he attempted to secure the knight in some way, yet Venneith was unmoved by his mighty efforts.
“But you’ll die!” one again cried.
Gasping, both in pain and exhaustion, he seemed to only have enough breath for these last words. “I know.” For a brief moment they stood there stunned until Dettetcheny urged them once more before they finally took their leave, darting west of the path. Looking to Venneith he murmured, “It’s just you and me now.”
“I’m afraid not,” Venneith plainly retorted. “We both still have a friend in our midst, each wielding a bow. You haven’t forgotten my follower have you?”
Dettetcheny knew there was a second party for he was shot by that very man. He however expected his scout to have taken care of him. Losing consciousness after the fall was such an inconvenience; he should’ve been more vigilant and ready to act in the face of such a surprise.
“Heh, you g-gonna have him kill me, then?” he asked, panting with pain and exertion as he ceaselessly tugged at Venneith’s arm.
“Not while your little scout scurries about,” Venneith answered. “In fact I think I can imagine it now, him and his arrow drawn, aimed for the weakness, yet where shall he strike?”
“What do you mean?” Dettetcheny questioned.
“He fired once yet my armor was more than enough to nullify its effects. It pierced the plate in my side. Impressive as that may have been, it wasn’t enough to pierce my layer of gambison nor the chainmail beneath.”
“The grand reason why kn-knights are so renowned,” Dettetcheny muttered, a bit enthused if exhausted. “Unkillable beneath all those layers.”
“Yet there are methods, as I’m sure you know.”
“Oh, please tell,” Dettetcheny encouraged.
“For your scout who wields a bow I’ll mention two. The first is my helmet, for if his aim be exceedingly precise he can fire a single shot into the very slit of my visor, killing me instantly.” Venneith freely spoke in this manner for he highly doubted that the scout was that adept with a bow to be so precise to fire and succeed with one shot from a hidden position. “Sadly, he must be facing me head on for the best angle, yet he’s hidden to the sides of the road so such a thing can’t be.”
“Tell me more.”
“The second and last option would be to hit the joints of my limbs, for they are only covered by a layer of chainmail. Although it may not kill me, it would certainly put me at a sore disadvantage.”
“I-interesting,” he panted yet again.
“Unfortunately your scout lies to the west. You grappled my right arm and pulled me to face you, meaning the folds of my knees, and thus one of two weaknesses, face east. Therefore they can’t be hit from his direction, meaning he’s only got one option. But does he dare take it? Even now your arm slowly bleeds. Your time is short, may he act in haste.”
“Don’t underestimate us.”
“A hard challenge indeed,” Venneith insisted, his armor and person unmoving. “Even more so when witnessing you pull with all your might, giving everything you’ve got, yet you can’t pull me one step closer without yourself giving in to your own tugging.”
“Quite!”
Venneith paused for a moment. The first drops of rain began to fall as thunder broke out across the distant sky.
Wrapping his wrist once, the knight took hold of the cord, taking it into his control. “I don’t think you’re in any position of power,” he began as he tugged once, wrapping the cord around his wrist before tugging again. “You live now because I’ve allowed it up to this point. You have very few methods of killing me yet my means are enumerable. You’re nothing but a nuisance, a leach that needs to be liberated from the skin of society with nothing less…” His left hand then sparked. “…than fire.”
Dettetcheny watched as the knight’s left arm caught light with fire anew as it enveloped his armor, clinging to his person as he pulled the rope, drawing him in closer. He struggled against his grasp, tugging back, yielding the same result as the minutes leading up to this moment prior. The rain evaporated, coming into contact with his arm, alight with fire, driving him to think quickly as the knight purposely bided his time.
His dominant arm hanging loosely, Dettetcheny would have to make do like the many years prior, and in this moment now as he wielded his cords with nothing but his left hand. With a heavy huff of air he shouted, “I’m Not Done Yet!”
Acting with the intent of surprise, Dettetcheny released the cord from his grip just as the knight tugged a third time. Assuming the knight would be thrown off balance, Dettetcheny rolled forward as he clutched and tucked in his injured arm before lowering his hand to his waist to grip yet another cord. He tore it off his person as he flicked his wrist to fling a bola with a nexus, binding three cords together at the knight’s knees.
Before Venneith could react, he was ensnared as Dettetcheny shouted, “You forgot to mention a third method, my Knight.”
With the knight unable to safely move his legs, Dettetcheny engaged by rolling once more as he took the cord leading to the knight’s wrist in his hands before slipping past Venneith’s outstretched and ensnared right hand. “While I may not be able to kill you…” he murmured as he took the slack before slinging it around the knight’s helmet, leading from the left of Venneith’s neck to his right as he now took position behind him shouting, “…I Can Certainly Immobilize You!”
Helpless to act, Dettetcheny stomped down upon the bola, constricting Venneith’s legs together. He yanked on the cord wrapped around Venneith’s wrist, pulling his arm behind his back as his neck acted as the pulley, and with one last final exertion, with the bolas binding Venneith’s legs pinned beneath Dettetcheny’s foot, the man hefted, turning his entire body before throwing The Dark Armored Knight to the dirt.
Taking a step back, Dettetcheny took a breath as the adrenaline coursed through his being. Looking down to his wounded arm and the arrow struck through it he insisted that it shouldn’t stay lest it be amputated. Taking the tipped end in his hand, Dettetcheny winced one last time before letting loose in agony as he liberated the arrow completely, from shaft to fletching to freedom. Acting quickly, leaving no time to waste, he took his second single-ended bola in his left hand before lashing the end round his bicep to stave off the bleeding as he pulled tight.
“That was a grand effort of you,” the knight then said, laying face down in the dirt.
“Just wait until Voros gets here,” Dettetcheny retorted, feverishly panting out of both tiredness and agony.
“Hope he does come for I’ve wasted enough time.”
Looking down to the knight D
ettetcheny watched as Venneith, with one arm, began to raise himself from the ground.
“No!” Dettetcheny spat as he quickly fell to action, taking the cord binding Venneith’s wrist and neck before he yanked back, driving his foot against the knight’s armor to keep him pinned. “Don’t move!”
“This petty tustle you call a battle is nothing more than the former. Like I’ve mentioned; you’ve lived only because I’ve allowed it.”
“Quite, now!” Dettetcheny cried as he struggled to keep the knight pinned as he managed to keep himself aloft with just his one free arm.
Yet the knight didn’t heed his command and continued, saying, “For you have succeeded in impressing me despite showing ineptitude in all magic. You’ve wielded no Euths and the way you remedy that injury only indicates your inability to perform white magic. And, finally, judging by that knife you keep handy behind your waist-side, neither can you perform black magic and summon a tool to further your efforts to dispatch me.”
As hard as he pushed to keep the knight down and pulled to keep the knight bound, it seemed Venneith could still persist past his efforts and push back against the force applied as well as the bolas that bind.
“I-I said…” he struggled as he exerted himself to keep the knight subdued. “Quite!” Yet even as he spoke, he could feel a heat begin to rise within the knight’s armor.
“You’re nothing but flesh and bone, yet your ambition and selflessness…” Sparks broke out across the dark armor of the knight. “…is highly admirable.”
No longer could he stay positioned above the knight for a fire had ignited, burning the sole of his foot, threatening to scorn his body completely. The bolas stood no chance and neither did the cord still attached to his person as it fell to the floor as the length wrapped round Venneith had been disintegrated.
Dragon Kindred_And The Gyr Worshipers Page 24