by James Fuller
Pavilion shook his head. “Until we met again.”
“Not this time!” Vashina hissed, her hand snapping three of her throwing knives at him. They came from the enchanted bracer at her hip, which replenished the blades as quickly as she could dispense them.
Pavilion caught glimpse of her hand moving towards the leg where she wore the magical bracer. With speed most men envied, he caught two of the spinning blades and with a slight movement the third passed by him harmlessly. Before anyone had realized he had caught the blades, he had them back in the air and embedded into the throats of two warriors flanking Vashina.
“I was hoping for some alone time…I enjoy our talks.” Pavilion teased, drawing his slender sword with one hand and releasing a potent arc of power with his other, aiming for Vashina’s chest. She threw herself to the side, barely avoiding the deadly assault. It connected with a warrior who had been behind her, blowing his ribcage open and sending him sprawling backwards in a bloody mess.
Pavilion wasted no time and sprinted off, slashing and stabbing his blade furiously into exposed flesh and sidestepping clumsy attacks with ease.
“You will not escape me this time, Pavilion!” Vashina growled, springing to her feet. “AFTER HIM, ALL OF YOU!” She ordered, charging in his wake of dead and dying warriors.
Pavilion swerved through tents, cook-fires and warriors, his sword leading the way as he slashed here and stabbed there whenever he had to - anything to prevent slowing his desperate, dwindling escape. He did not want to use his Gift if possible; it would single him out and alert the entire camp.
He weaved in and out of the half asleep, startled barbarians who had no idea what was going on and had no time to react before Pavilion’s blade found them or he was long gone. He knew that Vashina was not far behind him; he could sense her and knew she would not let him slip away easily, not this time. To the side, he saw a cluster of archers notched and aiming straight for him and knew he would never be able to dodge that many arrows. His keen ears alerted him to the sound of the bowstrings releasing and he dived forward in a barrel roll, summoning his innate abilities as he did. As he rolled, the current of air that spun with him picked up hard and fast, creating a cyclone, launching the deadly assault of arrows every which way into the camp of enemies. Pavilion hit the ground in a headlong roll and was running hard through the encampment once again.
He felt the hairs of his neck stand on end and knew better then to second-guess his instinct. He swerved off to the left, between two wagons, just as two lines of flames exploded into another wagon, where he had been only a heartbeat before.
He could hear Vashina curse at the miss but had little time to enjoy his luck. Now all around him savages were alerted to something amiss. His eyes scanned for the easiest way out as hordes of barbarians stalked in to investigate. A silver flash sent Pavilion into a sideways spin as two blades streaked by, one high and one low. He threw himself into a forward roll.
Fortune alone had been on his side that time. He had to give her credit - she was like no opponent he had ever faced - it gave him a thrill like he had never known, and that worried him even more.
He looked back to see Vashina stalking in around the wagons, her hands ablaze with eager flames. On the other side, he caught a glimpse of the oncoming warriors and knew his chance at escape was dwindling with each wasted heartbeat. He needed to act quickly. The area around him grew brighter and he knew Vashina had unleashed her inferno.
He threw himself to the side and turned over in mid-air, feeling the intense heat of the wizard’s fire soar a finger-span away from him. Before he hit the ground, he summoned his own powers with near impossible control - the ground between the two wagons gave way, causing them to shift violently into each other. It caught Vashina off guard and pinned her underneath the wreckage. He doubted that would stop her for long.
Pavilion was on his feet again, just in time to avoid being cut down by a wild axe swing from a drunken barbarian. He knew if he got caught up in a fight, he would be overwhelmed within moments. He smashed the hilt of his sword into the drunken brute’s thick nose and knocked him back several steps, adding just enough distraction for him to slip by. He knew he was in trouble - all around him, armed and bloodthirsty barbarians eyed him with murderous intent. All he could do was charge; he sidestepped wild swings from sword and axe and returned in kind with well-placed slashes and stabs from his scimitar and dagger - many were fatal blows, but most were to maim or cripple.
Pavilion could feel blades nicking and biting into his flesh and knew he was taking more damage and he would not be able to survive for long. Already, he could feel warm blood running down his legs, into his black leather boots. He fought harder, and ran faster, all the while focusing his Gift to heal the wounds he knew about, but the task was nearly impossible with his focus scattered in a hundred directions.
Distractedly, he stabbed his sword into the belly of a savage who blocked his path and with but a thought the man burst into flames and flailed madly. Pavilion placed his palm on the warrior’s chest and with another thought sent the man flying away with a burst of violent air into half a dozen others. Pavilion followed his flaming, airborne victim’s path and leapt over the bodies that rolled on the ground, trying to put out the wizard’s fire that ate at their flesh.
He knew he was nearing the end of the camp, but his relief was short-lived - a line of wagons and enemy stood before him, blocking his freedom. He snatched one of his many daggers from his belt and let fly, embedding it into the gut of a half-aware warrior who doubled over in sudden pain. Pavilion jumped up, planting both his feet on the savage’s back and sprang off, launching himself into a front flip on top of a wooden-planked wagon. He glanced back and saw the frantic, broken pursuit of enemies behind him and grinned to himself.
Pavilion leapt from the wagon and landed softly, sprinting for the woods where he could vanish nearly at will. He did not make it three steps before something entangled his feet, causing him to crash into the ground, knocking the wind from him. With reflexes honed by years of training, he chopped down at the slithering vines, freeing his legs before they could tangle him any further. Pavilion rolled backwards and came up in a crouch but before he could move several more hungry vines ruptured from the packed earth, entangling his limbs and pulling him tightly to the ground.
“Foolish rogue assassin,” a voice shrieked.
“Thought he was all smart and clever and could get away,” another crackling voice chimed.
Pavilion’s heart skipped a beat as he realized how much trouble he was in - he spotted four Priestesses eyeing him and whispering. He did not know if they were talking or spell-casting. Barbarians were beginning to climb over the wagons and he knew he had to act. He focused on the column of wagons, pouring a great deal of energy into this single act. Before any of the warriors had fully made it over, the wagons ignited in an inferno of wizard’s fire, forcing the enemy back and ending the threat of the handful that had nearly cleared the barrier.
Vines tightened around him, crossing his throat, choking him and disrupting his concentration - his eyes bugled but still he fed the wizard’s fire, buying him precious time from the hordes of enemy he had provoked.
“Not yet, my sister,” a priestesses bellowed, slapping one of the others.
“Let us play with this one,” another agreed, eagerly licking her filthy, scabbed lips.
“No, you fools!” The one manipulating the vines barked. “He is too dangerous to toy with! He must die!”
Pavilion took the opportunity while the deranged hags bickered. He dug his fingers into the earth, forcing his powers in, turning the soft dirt hard as rock, crushing and severing the vines at their base. Before the priestesses realized it, Pavilion was on his feet, unleashing a wicked torrent of air, throwing them from their twisted feet and spraying them with rocks and dirt. His attack lifted enough dust into air to act as a visual shield so he could not be the target of their twisted spells.
Pavilion t
hought to finish the wretches off but several thuds hit the ground around him and he realized they were arrows from the warriors, behind the blazing wagons. Pavilion knew when his welcome was worn out and sprinted off into the trees, disappearing into the shadows.
Once he was safely away and had doubled back partway to ensure he was not being followed, he stopped to check his wounds. He had taken many deep hits in his desperate escape and had lost more blood than he would care admit. Now that his adrenaline was wearing off, he realized just how close he had been to complete disaster. Even with all the healing he had done throughout his escape, there were still plenty of wounds that needed his attention.
“I want you to know, I could have killed you by now,” a very familiar voice said, coming up behind him.
Pavilion sprang into a front roll putting distance from him and Vashina. He came up, sword and dagger ready and willing, expecting a deadly attack to follow.
“Oh come on now, Pavilion, as I said, I could have killed you already,” Vashina teased, standing perfectly relaxed, her arms crossed over her ample chest, looking amused.
Pavilion scanned the tree line for any movement or unnatural shadows that might portent an ambush. He could see none; his senses told him Vashina was not one to play that way, no, she would want to deal with him alone - her pride would demand it.
“There is no one out there, it is just you and me, I promise,” She informed him. “You did say you wanted some alone time.” She winked.
“Forgive my lack of trust. What do I owe this unexpected meeting?” He asked, the edge of being caught off guard still hanging in his voice.
“I just came to congratulate you on your fine display of skill and talent and even more so, your luck,” Vashina replied, starting to walk a circle around him, never taking her sparkling blue eyes off his.
“It was not my finest display, but it did turn out better than it could have,” Pavilion causally replied, turning himself to stay in front of her, “and I only used a little luck.” He winked back.
“You nearly lost your life at the hand of those filthy wenches back there,” She reminded him. “That would have been a most unfitting way to die…for one such as yourself.”
“You were watching? I did not notice, or I would have waved,” Pavilion mocked sarcastically. “But your concern for my life does mean a lot to me.” He grinned, getting a small smile from her soft, ruby red lips.
“You did not believe that those wagons would hold me for long, did you?” Vashina grinned, stopping her pacing and changing directions.
“I would have been sadly disappointed if they had,” he replied, changing directions with her, watching her every move carefully, preparing for her to attack.
“So what are we to do now, rogue assassin? There is only so much teasing and ego stroking we can engage in before we run out of words.” Her tone changed from playful to more serious and her body tensed.
“I would suggest you going back to your camp so that I might get some rest and so that tomorrow night, I might be able to wreak some more havoc on your army,” Pavilion replied, “but somehow I doubt you would have come all this way to leave without something.”
Vashina burst out laughing. “Oh, Pavilion, how I will miss this, but you know I cannot just leave, not while you are still alive. But how fair would it be of me to attack you, while you are so tired and weak.”
“Tired and weak? What makes you believe that?” Pavilion lied. “Besides, what would you know of fair?”
“You are still alive; I would say that counts for something,” Vashina reminded him. “I cannot leave here without your head, I am afraid,” Vashina paused. “I know without a doubt your Gift is near depleted or else all your wounds would be healed by now, but I am sure you still have fight left in you.”
“What are you trying to say?” Pavilion asked, though he knew full well what she was hinting at. He knew his odds of surviving this encounter were slim. His body ached from his wounds and he was exhausted.
“Let us fight blade on blade, fist to fist, wit to wit - we will leave the Gift out of it. What do you say?” Vashina asked, halting her circling, going into stance.
“Do I have a choice?” Pavilion replied.
“Of course not.” Vashina laughed, snatching up two throwing knives in each hand and unleashed them.
Pavilion did a tight back flip, landing in a crouch, sword and dagger out to the sides, easily avoiding the duo of deadly blades. Before another assault came, he was in a full sprint toward her, knowing that at a distance, she had the advantage.
Their blades connected hard, ringing out into the still night with the passion of long lost lovers. Pavilion pressed her back, swinging his sword in low while stabbing his dagger high; he reversed and arced his sword up while pressing his attack. Vashina quickly back stepped and, having expected the angle change of his sword, had her own up to deflect it. Her sword swung back around, hugging close to her leg for an upwards stab that just missed Pavilion’s chest. He swung his dagger arm in and around her extended arm, pushed down at her elbow and pulled her hard against him, locking her arm high.
“Very impressive!” Vashina gasped, her eyes dancing with excitement. Her dagger shot in low for his side, but he grabbed her arm and stopped it short, twisting her wrist and forcing it out of her hand.
She smiled wickedly at him. He felt her body shift slightly and knew she was aiming her knee for his groin. He pivoted to the side as her knee came up and slipped his own knee between hers, kicking out her supporting leg, dropping her to the ground and taking a step back, his blades ready.
“Now I am going to have to cheat.” Vashina grumbled, not liking the fact that she had been taken down. She threw her hand out and three arcs of power discharged towards Pavilion. He threw himself out of the way of the sinister attack but felt the burning throb in the side of his hip and knew he had not escaped unscathed.
He was up on unsteady feet in a heartbeat and knew, without looking, his wound was bad - when he tried putting weight on the damaged leg it nearly buckled. He forced himself to ignore the pain and charged again before she was back on her feet, knowing he had to end this now. Her hand came up again and Pavilion threw a dagger for her chest; she rolled out of the way and sprang up about to release another deadly arc when his second dagger buried itself to the hilt in her shoulder, throwing her back to the ground with the force of it. He was about to dive on her and finish the fight when a wall of flames burst forth from the earth in front of her. Pavilion barely had time to react before running headlong into the menacing flames. He changed direction and ran off into the trees as fast as his leg would allow him, knowing he could no longer win this fight.
“How much longer will we be trapped in here?” Lady Jewel asked, her tone irritated as she paced the room.
Malcolm - Dragon’s Cove’s finest General - sighed. “It is hard to tell, my Lady. Mistress Lepha and I went out, she used her Gift to blow the smoke away so we might see, but more smoke, just as thick, was back in mere moments. In truth, we have no idea what is going on out there.” He reported with a grimace.
“So we know nothing more than we did yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that!” She coughed. Even though they had blocked off all the holes they could find in the castle, smoke still seeped in and consumed the fresh air. Smoke was all anyone could smell or taste – it clung to hair, and clothes, was in their eyes and wrapping fingers around their hearts.
“A few more days would be my guess, my Lady. I am sorry I do not have better news to report.” Malcolm said, taking his leave.
Jewel cupped her face in her hands, forgetting about the others in the room with her. They had been stuck in the castle under an assault of smoke for days now. The castle had heated up and was nearly unbearable. Most within were wearing as little as they could get away with. Several of the top floors had been closed off due to the overwhelming heat and smoke. Many of the elderly had begun getting sick from dehydration and smoke inhalation - some had even pa
ssed away. It was not only the elderly who were feeling the bitter effects of dehydration - nearly everyone was. It seemed no matter how much water they consumed, their bodies perspired it nearly as quickly.
Lady Jewel had ordered the three basements - including the dungeon - emptied and set up to house the five thousand that inhabited Dragon’s Cove now. Down in the lower levels, beneath the surface, the air was cleaner and the temperature bearable. The hallways, rooms and stairwells were littered with families, farmers, royals and soldiers alike - no favor was shown to anyone except Lord Marcus, who remained on his death bed with fever.
All the food and livestock had been gathered and brought down to the very lowest level, to keep it as fresh as possible and to keep the animals alive until their meat was needed. But little food was being eaten for appetites were low and to cook what little meat was wanted meant more smoke and more heat.
“What are we going to do?” Jewel muttered to herself, loud enough that everyone heard. She wanted nothing more than her husband Marcus to be here and dealing with this. He had not been conscious for only the Creator remembered how long and was not expected to make it much longer.
“We have to wait it out, my Lady. There really is nothing else we can do,” Ursa replied testily - he was just as stressed about it as she was. Everyone was. The heat and smoke was making everyone more irritable than normal and several arguments had flared and fights had broken out.
“Is there no way to speed up the burning or stop it? Ursa could you, Lepha, Antiel and Talena use your powers to make it rain hard again or something, anything?” Dragon’s Cove advisor asked in a wheedling tone, while looking deeply into Ursa’s eyes.
“If there was anything we could do, we would have done it already, I assure you,” Ursa sighed. “We have not given up - we are still trying to come up with something that might help or at least ease the heat and smoke,” Ursa replied with a dry cough.