***
On the opposite side of the village, far from where the attacks were happening, Alaezdar heard the screaming as he ran from woods. Without going into the heart of the village, he ran first to his small cottage on Tharn’s farm, but he feared he might not reach it in time. He ran furiously as he heard the screaming and smelled the smoke from the fires. Finally he entered into his room, dove under his bed, and reached blindly for his sword. He felt only the empty hard floor.
Was it gone, he worried. He had just pulled it out a few days ago. How could it be gone? He looked under the bed again and still could not see anything but darkness. He reached in again, further back, and felt it.
He grabbed the scabbard and the sword. Just touching it brought back memories to him again, both good and bad, but there were many he wished to forget. He had thought he was done with his past and he had been more than ready to forget it all and begin anew.
Bloodseeker was the name of his sword. It called upon the magic of the land to seek out blood, but once it had tasted blood again, Alaezdar knew it would want more. Many a time the magic has helped him in battle. He knew not how it worked, or where it came from, but it did just as promised every time.
Now he felt it calling once again.
He heard the screams outside and knew it was time to act, but still he paused briefly and looked at the inscription on the scabbard. Even in the dark, he could almost see the inscription and the words he knew by heart. To Honor, To Death: Rock Blade.
“To battle again,” Rock Blade said aloud and he withdrew the blade.
As he pulled the sword out and dropped the scabbard, two sharp and jagged smaller blades extended outward from just under the cross-guard with a clink. He felt the rush of the sword. He smiled as he felt his surge of raging anger. He stood up and ran out of his cottage and back to the village, his own rage further awakened by the power in the sword.
***
While Morlonn was still at the wall, he had grabbed his sword, bow, and two full quivers of arrows before he set off into town. As he now reached the outskirts of the village, he heard screams coming from the town fountain, but he had a hunch that the monsters that had attacked would no longer be at the fountain, but would be making their way to the outskirts of the village.
Morlonn went to his own house first and jumped his fence just as the gronts came down his street. Finding a good defensive position behind the chimney stack on the roof of his cottage, he fired arrows at the unsuspecting gronts as they ran by searching for innocent victims to slaughter. He was surprised how well he could see during the night. The torches from the festival, along with the light from the burning buildings, lit up the night all around the village .
The gronts were running around throughout the village and showing no reason to the direction of their travel. Morlonn could tell that they were ecstatic and lost to their blood lust, and their excitement sickened him. To his frustration, he found that many of his arrows bounced off their rock-like, pasty white smooth skin, but he remained determined and continued to let loose arrow after arrow.
Eventually a select few did find their mark and his black, diamond tip arrows pierced the gronts’ vulnerable soft spots on their necks and below their rib cages. The arrows rarely killed them with the first piercing, but Morlonn did find some satisfaction as the gronts squealed like pigs in pain and ran away, not knowing where the arrows had come from.
After he emptied both quivers, he jumped off his cottage, ran inside and grabbed a few more fistfuls of arrows to refill his quivers. He ran back outside and followed a few straggling gronts back into the dirt streets of the township. He had only gone down his street past a few houses when he saw Rivlok fighting a gront. Their swords flashed quickly as each tried to defeat their opponent. Morlonn notched another black diamond tip arrow and took aim for the gront’s neck. Releasing, he saw the arrow whiz passed Rivlok and hit its mark, slicing deeply into the gront’s throat. This wound was fatal and the gront gurgled and grunted as he grabbed at the arrow and fell to the ground. He wiggled back and forth on the dirt furiously before losing consciousness forever.
So many cottages, outbuildings, and barns were still burning so violently that a steady light glimmered through the smoke and haze throughout the village. Rivlok ran past a burning cottage, turned, and saw his friend Morlonn, forced a brief smile of thanks, and charged for another gront a few houses down the road in the same direction Morlonn was running.
Morlonn shook his head, dumbfounded. It looked as if Rivlok was actually having the time of his life, for Morlonn could not see any fear in his face.
Rivlok then picked up the pace and ran past Morlonn, who followed him as it seemed that he either knew where he was going or was experiencing the same blood lust as the gronts. Either way, he knew his friend would need help.
He followed him until he came upon Alaezdar, battling three gronts at once, but it looked as if Alaezdar was losing no ground in the battle. Rivlok ran to help Alaezdar and plunged his sword in the back of the closest gront, withdrew his sword and then prepared for another swing. The gront arched and threw both his hands skyward and screamed, but to Rivlok’s surprise, the gront did not fall to the ground. Instead it growled with a renewed and more intense anger, turned around, and blocked Rivlok’s half-hearted and meager second attack. The gront locked himself in with this new opponent who had wounded him.
Rivlok pounded the gront with a fury of attacks and the gront fell backwards. The wounded gront was beginning to show signs of his pain and he was bleeding severely. The gront’s legs were now wet and slippery from the blood oozing from his back. Encouraged by the sight, Rivlok continued to pound on the gront and defended himself against every return blow.
Eventually Rivlok’s attacks and the wound in his back proved too much to bear and the gront slipped on his own blood and fell onto his back, just waiting for Rivlok’s sword to pierce his heart. Rivlok put every ounce of weight into his sword and felt it slice into the gront’s flesh and crush a rib bone. The gront squealed for only a moment before dying.
Meanwhile Alaezdar was swinging his sword quickly and deftly at the other two gronts and successfully slicing them with his every swing. No action or movement was wasted. With a focused vision and the clarity from the light of the fires, he saw the gronts through the nighttime darkness, smoke, and haze, and although the gronts he fought blocked many of the blows, Alaezdar sliced and tore into gront flesh with every opportunity.
He cut into their flesh quickly and precisely, almost as if he enjoyed tormenting the gronts, a happy torturer to his victims. Bloodseeker sent ecstatic chills through Alaezdar’s veins, and happiness and satisfaction vibrated though every fiber of his being. Sword and hand now worked in unison, inseparable, towards a reciprocal goal, to kill gronts and to satisfy a need.
The sword and swordsman worked together to slice through the gronts, and with every instance that Bloodseeker drew blood, Alaezdar felt his rage increase. It did not matter whether the victims lived or died, only that they bled. Though the cuts had little effect on the gront’s hard outer skin, they were effective in producing blood for Bloodseeker and for Alaezdar and in slowing the gronts and weakening their morale.
Soon the gronts realized that the battle would eventually lead to their death, and even the insidious, blood-lust gronts were wise enough to know that this man was not a normal villager.
Morlonn rounded the corner shortly after Rivlok and saw Alaezdar and Rivlok in battle. He notched and aimed for the gront that was locked in close battle with Alaezdar. Releasing the arrow, he watched it hit the gront in his rib cage. The gront flinched and recoiled, and that extra movement gave Alaezdar an opportunity to plunge his sword deep into the gront’s chest. He had to use both hands upon the sword and thrust forward with all of his might to pen
etrate through all his tough skin. As Alaezdar grunted and pushed the sword though the tough hide, the gront’s eyes went wide, realizing his demise, and then closed. He fell like a rock to the ground.
Bloodseeker was now fully awake, and happy, but still not yet satisfied.
The remaining gront, realizing that he had just lost the advantage of his fellow gronts’ numbers, charged after Alaezdar with his sword over his head in a last ditch effort. He brought the blade down with all his might with the intention of splitting his opponent’s head. Alaezdar saw the gront with only enough time to put his foot onto the dead gront in front of him and withdraw his sword from his chest as he fell.
The attacking gront’s blade was coming quickly and Alaezdar dropped to his knees and rolled to his right side. The gront’s blade came down wildly, but still caught his left shoulder as he rolled. The gront had to adjust his weight in order to hit Alaezdar, and he lost his balance. He stumbled for a few steps as he tried to regain his balance. Still on the ground, Alaezdar swung his sword and hit the gront on his knee and the gront tripped over the sword as it cut his leg. He fell with a thud. Alaezdar had just enough time to stand up as the gront also stood and began limping towards his combatant.
Both gront and Alaezdar circled each other trying to anticipate each other’s next move. From the corner of his eyes, Alaezdar noticed Morlonn and Rivlok in an ugly battle with a few more gronts that had just arrived. Rivlok was on the ground unconscious while Morlonn stood over his body holding only a hunting knife. The two gronts stood facing Morlonn and they took turns feigning several attacking moves, playing with Morlonn as a cat does with a mouse before pouncing.
Alaezdar continued to circle the gront he was fighting until his back was to Rivlok. Keeping this gront away from his partners, Alaezdar turned quickly and left the gront standing alone while he ran towards the unsuspecting gront fighting Morlonn. Alaezdar caught the side of his face with his sword and dropped him.
Alaezdar and Morlonn now faced two remaining gronts, but held fast to protect their wounded friend. The other gront that Alaezdar had been fighting now charged, making it three gronts facing them. Morlonn, not knowing what else to do, threw his dagger at the gront, but it only hit his chest and bounced away harmlessly.
In the distance, screams still filled the air and were joined by the sound of a strange instrument, much like a bugle or a horn, but sounding more like a rolling dragon snort. The wounded gront in front of Alaezdar and Morlonn immediately left the fray and ran towards the sound while the other two gronts continued to taunt their prey as the sound filled up the air.
Taking advantage of the new distraction, one of the gronts charged at them.
Morlonn saw that the charging gront would reach Alaezdar first and pushed Alaezdar off balance and out of the path of the gront. Morlonn dove for the gront’s legs and tackled him to the ground just as the gront began to swing his sword with a fierce downward blow. The gront could not stop running in time and he tripped over Morlonn and fell to the ground with a grunt. Alaezdar recovered himself, realized what Morlonn had just done and plunged his own bloodthirsty sword into the back of the gront before he could recover.
“Get up!” Alaezdar yelled. “They’ve found us!”
Morlonn rolled over on his back and then sat up and looked down the alley. A dozen more gronts were coming at them followed by a flaming woman and a robed man. They ran as if they were on a mission and Morlonn thought they all might just run right through them.
“Run!” Alaezdar yelled and he grabbed Morlonn’s arm and turned him away so they both could run in the other direction.
“What about Rivlok?” Morlonn asked, panicking, not sure if he should stand his ground to protect his friend or run.
“We have no choice! If we are lucky, they will think he is dead,” Alaezdar yelled and pulled at Morlonn’s arm to get him running.
They had rounded one corner when they heard Aaelie yell for Alaezdar and down the next alley, they saw Ambassador Krostos, Tharn and Aaelie. Aaelie struggled as Azrull was holding her with a dagger to her throat. All of Azrull’s Trielian soldiers surrounded them and two other solders held Tharn with both hands behind his back.
“What are you doing? Gronts are coming and they will be here any second!” Alaezdar yelled as he ran in front of them, but he was stopped at sword point by one of the Trielian soldiers
“Aaelie, are you alright?” Morlonn asked.
Aaelie did not respond. She looked more angry than afraid even though her face was wet from her tears.
“Tharn, what is going on?” Alaezdar asked.
Tharn jerked his hands free of the soldier and pushed him away with such force that the soldier lost his balance and fell onto his back.
“They want you, Alaezdar. You need to go with them. If you go with them, they will let Aaelie go.”
“Go where?”
“Back to Triel. They feel you are dangerous to this realm.”
“Then why don’t they kill me?
“They will if they have to,” Tharn said and locked eyes with Alaezdar.
“Finally we can finish this and get out of this dreadful place!” Fyaa said as she and the gronts rounded the corner and charged into the alley.
She and the wizard Ra-Corsh walked towards them and the gronts followed, still wanting to fight, grunting and moaning because they had been fettered, almost as if held back by a spell, while they walked behind Fyaa and the wizard.
“Why don’t you secure him and turn him over to me now?” Krostos pleaded after seeing this new development and wanting a quick resolution.
Krostos stepped forward to meet the flaming woman. Her skin had small wisps of flames stretching out of her chain mail as if they were attempting to grab small victims and bring them to her. Her mail still glowed slightly after covering her flaming body for so long during the battle. The hair on her head no longer looked like hair, but small flames scratched across her skull as if the flames were living vipers.
Krostos began to sweat as he approached and he stammered slightly as he spoke.
“This is not the time, nor was it the agreement. You said we could have him first.”
“You do not know who he is, and you have no business with him. Nor do you want to do anything other than what I want! Do you understand…little man?” Fyaa asked caustically.
Alaezdar’s hands trembled with rage and he wanted to fight this woman and kill Krostos at the same time, but he knew that would not end well for the others, especially Aaelie. He went to sheathe his sword, but the two outer claws at the bottom of the cross-guard of the sword were still extended and prevented the sword from seating. He left it partially sheathed, but kept his hand on the sword.
“What do you want with me?” he asked.
Fyaa laughed and looked at Ra-Corsh.
“Does he not know who he is?”
“I told you that he does not know. I told you that after I saw him a few days ago in the village. I had him seeing visions, but he transformed the visions much more deeply than I had expected. He really thought he was under an attack by his guild. This one holds great power, yet he has no idea he has. Be careful with him, Fyaa.”
“Oh, this is even better than I had hoped,” she said and laughed with childish excitement.
Fyaa walked towards Alaezdar, but Alaezdar walked backwards matching each of her forward advances.
“I will not tell you who you are to me, my love. Not yet, but you will come to understand in time. Come with me, and all will be done here at this tiny little trove that these worthless people inhabit.”
Tharn walked up to Alaezdar and whispered to him, “I’m sorry. They knew you were coming long ago. When Torz came here th
e first time, he was looking for you then, and he promised us peace if I turned them over to you.”
Ra-Corsh heard Tharn and added, “Tharn has been a great help in finding you. He has been listening to the Watchers Guild’s every prediction about you and communicating your arrival.”
“But you destroyed our village,” Tharn responded angrily.
Ra-Corsh laughed. “You can thank this crazy witch woman for that. I had nothing to do with the plan of destroying your worthless village.”
“Do you still want this girl?” Azrull asked Krostos, who was still clearly nervous and impatient.
Krostos turned and took a few steps back to Azrull to look to Aaelie. He walked over to her and lifted her chin.
“Oh, yes. I am keeping this one.”
Tharn snapped around.
“That is not part of the deal!”
Alaezdar withdrew his sword and charged for Azrull. Rage filled his heart as he lifted his sword above his head. Azrull smiled, pushed Aaelie away, dropped his dagger, and withdrew his sword. He blocked Alaezdar’s swing as it arced a few inches from his skull. Alaezdar stepped back and attacked repeatedly, but Azrull blocked every attack.
“No!” Fyaa yelled as Aaelie took advantage of the fight and escaped down the alley. None of the Trielian soldiers tried to stop her because they were closing in to help Azrull in his fight. Two Trielian soldiers jumped in front of Azrull and took over his attack on Alaezdar.
“Is there nothing you can do, wizard?” Fyaa screamed at Ra-Corsh.
He dropped to his knees and began an incantation that immediately began to affect the gronts and some of the Trielian soldiers. They began to tremble in fear and they dropped to their knees. Even Azrull felt a slight tingle of anxiety from the spell and started to back away from Alaezdar.
Alaezdar felt it too, but instead of fear, he felt his head tingle for a moment and a fog clouded his eyes, but then his rage took over and all he saw was Azrull through a dark tunnel of smoke.
The Warrior's Bane (War for the Quarterstar Shards Book 1) Page 13