I raised my blade again, holding the point out to her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to give up? I will show mercy,” I said.
The warrior-goddess looked confused.
“What? Why would I give up?” she asked, advancing again, whip-sword readied. “You give up!”
We re-engaged.
Our blades rang out as we clashed; we rounded the tree. Like before I was on the backfoot.
As the warrior-maiden lunged forward, in the midst of her flurry of slashes, her foot caught on a tree root.
Time seemed almost to slow; she fell forward, and as she did, she reached down with her sword hand to soften her landing. I had a perfect opportunity to strike; I raised my blade over my head, swung down – and stopped.
I recoiled, eschewing my opportunity.
She recovered from her fall and leapt back upright, taking a defensive posture.
She stared at me in near disbelief. I could tell she was unsure of what just happened. But it was clear I could have got the better of her – and equally clear that I had forgone my advantage.
Her brief uncertainty was brief indeed. With renewed vigour she leapt at me - and our desperate struggle was rejoined.
46
Ortham
I ran to the edge of the clearing with the giant uyrguk close behind, leaving Herace to deal with the unman.
I didn’t have much of a choice; I had nothing but a dagger. Estra Venn had drained my reservoir completely. I should have been more careful.
But it was too late for that, as I leapt over the brambles that ringed the clearing, and slipped between two pillars of stone.
The uyrguk swung his thresher’s flail right as I escaped; it smashed against one of the stone pillars, just at the height of my lower back.
Had I been a moment slower he would have broken me in two.
I wove my way through the labyrinth of stone, doing whatever I could to lose my pursuer. Many of the pillars towered over me; some were only shoulder-height. It was a confused jumble of rock and moss.
I stopped to catch my breath and listened intently; I heard heavy footsteps in the dirt, but I couldn’t tell from where. Blood pounded in my ears.
Who even was he? He looked far different from what I imagined a Disciple of the Void to look like. They both did. And the uyrguk was far larger than any I’d ever seen - and I had dealt with many.
Suddenly the uyrguk burst out from between two pillars. My heart leapt into my throat.
I turned again and ran, twisting and turning through the maze until it was all a blur. I needed time to recharge – I would have to force my reservoir to refill. There was no other way I could foresee surviving this.
I just hoped Herace was faring better.
I rounded a corner and stumbled. My legs were caught in a tangle of blackberry vines.
Wildly I slashed at them with my degen; they tore into my clothes with hooked thorns. I reached down and grabbed one muscular vine with my bare hand and pried it off of me; the barbs pierced the flesh of my palm. I barely felt it, so great was my panic.
Finally freed I got back up – and heard footsteps behind me. I glanced back and saw nothing.
I looked around - just beyond the tangle of coiling vines I caught sight of the uyrguk. He must have thought to cut me off.
Huge and clever? I was in big trouble.
He glared at me from across the impassable tangle. His chest rose and fell with each breath; his neck was thick, his arms were ropes of muscle. I could only imagine what would happen if he caught me on the other end of his threshing flail.
Then, to my surprise, he raised the farm tool up to his ear, holding it parallel to the ground.
I frowned, confused – then turned to run. He was going to throw it.
The uyrguk threw the thresher’s flail like a javelin; it soared through the air like a bolt from a ballista, slamming into a nearby stone as I fled.
I jogged through the maze, on edge at every junction. He could be anywhere; but I knew it was still safer than the clearing, safer than the thicketed periphery. At least in here I could hide.
But could I hide long enough to give myself a fighting chance?
I really only needed one good shot – one burst of energy strong enough to kill. I just couldn’t miss when I got my chance.
I slowed my jog as I passed by a gap in the stones. I caught a glimpse of Herace duelling the unman. They were both still standing – which was a good sign.
I ran around in the labyrinth for some time without any sight of the grey-skinned uyrguk. I had to make sure he wouldn’t go in to help dispatch Herace. I had to remain close enough to harm that he would continue pursuing me, but far enough from harm that I wasn’t outright killed.
So I climbed up one of the wide stone pillars. The edges were wet with moss and I slipped a few times, but eventually I pulled myself over the ledge.
Just as I wiped my hands on my thighs I caught sight of the uyrguk – and he caught sight of me.
He ran towards me. I panicked.
The pillars were uneven and each a different height – but I spied one nearby that was lower. I jumped over and landed unsteadily atop, nearly falling as I did.
Behind me the uyrguk scaled a pillar with ease; he practically launched himself up as if it was nothing. He leapt from one pillar to the next, nearing ever closer. His face displayed no malice, no pleasure – only grim resolve.
I jumped to the next pillar, higher than the one I was on; my foot slipped and I scraped my shin down the sharp ledge. I almost lost my grip but managed to struggle up.
By the time I scrambled to my feet the uyrguk was right by me; he swung with the thresher’s flail. I dropped to my belly and it sailed overhead in a wide arc. He brought it up, overhead; I rolled off the side of the pillar. The flail crashed against the pillar’s top as I slid away.
I landed heavily on the ground, catching my fall just in time to stop from breaking my neck. My degen clattered nearby. The landing knocked the wind from me; I tried to suck in air.
A colossal shadow loomed over me.
The uyrguk dropped from a pillar to the ground; I felt the thud of his weight upon the loamy soil. I struggled to my feet in an attempt to flee.
He tossed the thresher’s flail to the side and reached for me; one of his hands was soaked in blood and I did not want to know whose blood it was.
He grabbed at me but I slipped away; his hand was too slick. I stooped to catch up my degen as I tried to stagger out of reach, just barely getting my fingertips around its hilt.
A hand caught the edge of my cloak and wrenched me back. I lost my grip on the blade as I was pulled toward my pursuer.
He picked me up by the shoulders – lifting me right off the ground – and slammed me against one of the pillars. My vision exploded with bursts of white as my head bounced off the stone.
The uygruk took hold of my shirt and pushed me against the pillar. The rock ledges pressed painfully into my ribs as he crushed me against the stone. He was facing me, lifting me off my feet; I kicked out at him, catching nothing but air.
His bloody hand wrapped around my throat. I flailed against his arms as he squeezed my neck; dark red constricted my vision. I couldn’t breathe; I panicked. I kicked as hard as I could and got him in the chest. His grip relaxed and I gulped air.
The respite was torturously brief; he hardened his grip once again. My vision darkened. The uyrguk’s expression never changed – his face was chiseled from granite.
I pressed my fingertip against his elbow and prayed that I had recharged at least a little.
I squeezed whatever energy I might have left into the weakest fulgimantic bolt I ever attempted.
A small shock crackled out from my hand and into the uyrguk’s arm; he released his grip and recoiled with a grunt. I was dropped to the ground and my knees buckled beneath me as my feet touched earth.
I put a hand to my throat and ga
sped, hacking; in only a moment the uyrguk was upon me again.
This was it. I was going to die.
He landed a knee into my shoulder, knocking me back against the pillar, and he reached down with both hands.
I shifted my shoulders as he went for my throat, barely deflecting his grasp; I tumbled sideways, rolling onto the ground and out of the way.
I was on my hands and knees and tried to get to my feet; he grabbed the hem of my cloak and wrenched me backward until I was lying on my back, looking up.
Just as he leered above me a small object darted overhead. A puff of thick smoke erupted around the uyrguk’s face; he stepped back and coughed, waving the smoke away.
I rolled over and got to my feet. The cloud of vapor dissipated; the uyrguk lunged for me. I stepped aside, evading his outstretched hands.
He wobbled on his feet; he swayed as if drunk. I stooped to pick up my degen and held its point out to the uyrguk, my back against an impassable gap.
The uyrguk took an unsteady step forward and his legs buckled. He furrowed his brow, looking confused. It was the first expression I had ever seen upon his face. I was just as perplexed.
He made one more vain sweep at me, languid and uncoordinated. Then he fell forward, face first, into the dirt.
I leaned against a rock pillar and tried to catch my breath. My blood was still pumping hard and my legs were shaking. My neck throbbed; I massaged it with my offhand.
I looked down at the mountain of scarred, grey flesh before me. His back rose and fell slowly – he was still alive. Was it the smoke? Where did that smoke even come from? Certainly not from me.
I touched a toe to his shoulder, keeping my blade pointed at his neck. He didn’t move.
How strange.
I sheathed my degen and stepped over his considerable bulk. There was nothing but muscle on that body; muscle and striped scars. One of his ears was torn almost clean off; it was a mess of cartilage and mottled white. I touched the scars on the side of my own head – I knew what that felt like.
Movement from above caught my eye; I glanced up, grabbing for my blade again.
Atop one of the pillars sat Estra Venn. She didn’t smile – I suddenly realized what had happened. She must have put the uyrguk to sleep.
We shared a wordless moment. I nodded to her in silent thanks. She stood up and flew away.
I don’t know why she helped me – I also don’t know how long she watched before deciding to help. I don’t know what – or if – she expected anything in return.
But I was grateful. Reservedly grateful, but grateful nonetheless. Without her intervention, I would be dead.
I looked down to the uyrguk. It would be easy to dispatch him now; slide my blade into his ribs, cut a gash across his throat.
I struggled a long moment, standing over him. It would be so easy – it would be the logical thing to do. Battle was an arithmetic; the rules were simple and brutal. Kill while you can, kill until you need not kill anymore. How you did it did not matter, so long as you lived on and your foes did not.
I toyed with the hilt of my degen. It would be so easy… justified, even, if there was such a thing.
But that was just the mercenary in me – that was the ghost of Mister Morath and the Black Cohort. The calculation of life and death. I wasn’t like that anymore – I didn’t need to be.
And could I really go to Herace and Dawn and tell them how I dispatched a sleeping opponent? How I stabbed a defenseless foe? Could I look either of them in the face and admit that I was a cowardly murderer?
I turned away. I walked toward the clearing.
There was still much to do.
47
Daz
The vainglorious knight stepped back and spread his arms, allowing his cloak to drop to the ground. I watched, stunned, at this display of recklessness. He was handsome, and I didn’t like it. I had not seen his face before, and yet I recognized him…
“My name is Herace the Redeemed. Prince of Plin Oèn, Guardian of the Amber Bower…” – he levelled the point of his blade at me – “… and protector of Princess Dawn, heiress apparent to the throne of Céin Urthia. And I will defend her to the death.”
I was disturbed by how bold he was. Did he not know I would take him up on his promise? Did he not know my very purpose, the reason I existed?
I tightened my grip on my shotel.
So be it.
I advanced on him, my weapon raised.
“Wait, aren’t you going to introduce yourself? You know, state why you’re here, and who you are?” he asked with a smirk, sabre raised defensively.
“It does not matter why I am here. Only that I am here!” I cried, and with that, I made my assault.
I was done watching him react; I knew his weaknesses. He had no shield, his breastplate weighed him down, and he held his blade lower than he should have.
I lashed out at him, snapping my shotel towards his offhand shoulder. He quartered away and knocked my blade aside. I slashed again, curved tip downward; he parried effortlessly.
I slashed over and over. Maddeningly, he always managed to either parry or evade. He was retreating, always retreating. It was so frustrating!
I started swinging at him with my buckler, a risky tactic but the only way I could think of landing a solid blow. I needed to overwhelm him, to land so many blows that he would eventually make a mistake.
One swipe of my buckler narrowly missed his jaw; he broke off and retreated. My heart pounded; I was sweating. I could feel it beading on my skin. He was breathing heavy too.
And I couldn’t help but notice his shortened antlers. They were maddeningly familiar; I had seen them before. Last night. In my dream.
But I couldn’t think about that; I dared not imagine what that could mean. Dreams meant nothing. There was no such thing as fate; there was no such thing as fortune-telling. There was no future. Not for me.
I was a slave; I was a warrior. And that’s all I’d ever be.
“Where is she?” I demanded, struggling to speak Urvish when I was so caught up in the fight.
The dau knight smiled roguishly.
“I’ll never tell,” he replied. “Cut it out of my gurgling throat!”
My frustration bubbled to the surface. I let out a shout and renewed my attack, letting my anger fuel my blows.
He was quick enough to parry the slash of my shotel; but not quick enough to dodge the incoming strike of my buckler. It slammed into his breastplate with a resounding thud and I felt it jar my shoulder.
Had such a strike been unprotected, it surely would have broken bones.
But this maddening knight merely staggered backward, deflecting my incoming shotel all the while. I pressed against him, raining down cuts; yet each was parried or dodged. For every three I made against him, he only struck one out at me. And all half-hearted.
Was he toying with me? I wanted to reach out and strangle the smug little smile off his face!
After my onslaught I had to retreat back into a defensive posture; I was wearing myself down just as much as I was wearing him down. He seemed quite content to recuperate. Our breathing was laboured; his hair was wet against his forehead. He brushed it away from his face, letting his sword drop lackadaisically. It would have been a good opening, but I was too tired. The world rocked around me but I tried not to show it. I mirrored his confident pose. I wouldn’t let him get into my head.
But he was already in there. Without my ever meeting him, he and his stupid antlers were already in there. A strange feeling was fluttering in my chest – I tried to quash it.
It felt like I was swimming against a current. Who was this curiously handsome knight? The dream – the dream of the mountain, the raging sea, the trees turning to antlers - meant nothing. That old fortune-teller knew nothing. Nothing!
I grit my teeth and tightened my grip.
I was Shi’iran-daz-ithrav, last of my myrmidon. Elect among the Empress’
hunters, favoured slave. I bore the seal of the Void upon my flesh. This was my lot in life; to serve and to die.
I circled around the dau knight, trying to corral him against the tumored oak. Maddeningly, he snuck by and out of reach. I wanted to scream at him to stay still, to stay out of my dreams.
Once around me he raised his sabre again and smiled.
“Are you sure you don’t want to give up? I will show mercy,” he said.
I had to stop from letting my jaw drop in shock. Was he serious?
“What? Why would I give up? You give up!” I shouted, advancing on him again.
Our blades met once more; I was determined to cut him down to size. How dare he suggest I relent!
I practically chased him around the tree, lunging and slashing as he parried and dodged.
But I was overzealous; I got sloppy.
In my blind concentration my foot caught on a root; I tripped forward and without thinking dropped my sword arm to catch my balance.
Before realizing my critical mistake I looked up. The dau knight raised his blade over his head and brought it down toward my exposed skull – then stopped.
I caught my fall and sprang back upright, jumping back to recover myself. The dau knight retreated too.
My face burned with shame. He could have killed me.
We stood there for a long moment, catching our breath, staring.
He could have killed me. Should have killed me. I was totally exposed. Why had he not? Was he mad? Was he a fool? Was he mocking me?
A voice rang inside my head; the voice of an old fortune-teller.
…your journey to a happy place of two growing trees…
No… No! It meant nothing! Get out of my head!
I wanted to scream. But I could not.
So I did the next best thing; I relaunched my assault.
I slashed at the dau knight with heightened vigor. I would push him back – I would defeat him! I would do it just to spite that old fortune-teller, to spite those nonsensical dreams!
The clash of our blades rang out in the dim-lit clearing.
Day of the Hunt (The Faun Quartet Book 2) Page 39