Chapter Seven
Nov. 16th, 2005 06:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
f4f3My first melee, bloody hell, Bill, if you're reading this these are a lot harder to write than you make them look, and even then I've taken huge liberties with the physics of thrown objects.
Chapter Seven
Of swords in the night, death and worse than death, of those who flee and those who are caught. Of the merits of running away.
The night dissolved into a nightmare of shouting, of leather armed men pouring into the circle like an evil tide edged with metal teeth.
Han tried to jump to his feet, slipped, sprawled full length at the feet of two Hounds. They laughed, unable to believe their luck, and two blades swept up ready to kill. Han managed to fumble his sword out – at least he would die with a blade in his hand.
Erik took a minute to estimate the numbers of the enemy, and then he seemed to flow around the stone at his back, hidden at least for a second from his attackers.
BloodRaven laughed. His blade was out already, and the crimson light flowed from it like a prophecy of blood. He took two strides forward and hurled himself into the press of oncoming hounds, his shoulder barging three of them from their feet, his blade slashing down to make sure they stayed there forever.
Ruth crouched with a stone at her back, a slim sword in one hand, a wicked dagger dropping from her sleeve into her left hand. The first man to approach her raised his sword over his head to cut her down, and died before he even completed his backswing, her rapier darting forward to pierce his throat. She stepped back, and felt the solid stone comforting her back.
Aidan Ben Driech sat on his black horse and watched.
Han twisted his head up so that he could look his killers in the eye, and so he saw the moment when the first Hound’s left eye took a barbed shaft to the feathers. The man dropped on the spot. His comrade started to shout a warning, and so he took his arrow in the mouth instead of the eye. Han didn’t even gape, just rolled sideways as quickly as he could, looking for shadow.
Erik used his moment of cover to blow his own blade, feinted to the right and slashed left, feeling steel bite flesh before dipping his left hand to his belt to cup a clay ball about the size of an eye. He turned to face seven Hounds rushing towards him.
Ruth killed quietly, save for a feral hiss that squeezed between gritted teeth, one blade to parry, and one to kill, but her back was to the stone, and the Hounds moved to flank her. Two of them dropped with arrows in their backs.
BloodRaven killed with a fierce joy, his sword drawing scarlet patterns of blood and light, almost seeming to draw him forward to more slaughter.
“Forward friends, or will you leave all these curs for me?”
And Aidan Ben Driech sat on his black horse and waited.
Han slashed out from under a bush, hamstringing a hound, and he rolled again, deeper into cover.
As the seven closed on Erik he flipped the ball over their heads, over the stone behind them, back towards the fading fire.
Ruth left her dagger in the throat of the Hound on her left, flipped her too slim rapier to parry a heavy sword’s cut.
BloodRaven stood alone in a circle of slain, raised his sword and pointed it directly at Aidan Ben Driech, light leaping from it like fire.
And Aidan Ben Driech nodded as he walked his black horse towards BloodRaven, and as he nodded the light shut off from BloodRaven’s sword as if it was a snuffed candle.
The barbarian gaped at the blade, and barely saw the blow from Aidan’s mace which smashed him from his feet. Through a haze of blood he saw the outlaw general sway down from his mount and scoop up the quiescent blade. He tried to stand as Aidan wheeled and began to ride away.
“As I said, kill them all.”
And then all hell broke loose. The campfire flared as bright as a noonday sun, a crack of thunder echoed around the stone circle, deafening. Embers exploded outwards, studding leather armour with flaring coals, Two arrows, aimed towards Ben Driech as he rode away, caught fire in flight and hung for a moment from his cloak before falling back on to his horse, maddening the beast and sending it bolting into the night. His surviving Hounds followed, equally panicked and scarcely slower. More arrows from the night chased them.
**************************************************************************************************
Erik made his way back towards the blasted fire. A trickle of blood ran from his forehead, and seven dead men lay on the ground behind him.
From the bushes to his left a scrabbling figure dragged itself to its feet, eyes strangely wide against a blackened face.
“Well done, Han, you’ve survived your first brush with glory.”
“How did you… I was sure they’d got you. There must have been at least six of them right on your heels.”
“I managed to dodge them in the dark – they’re probably still chasing me. Except for one, and he gave me this before I got him.” Erik brushed at the blood on his forehead, smearing it across his face in the process, making the wound seem worse than it was.”
Ruth was still crouched against the stone, her eyes scanning for more enemies.
“I owe you an apology, Ruth. You did have archers in the dark after all. Will they join us now?”
“I don’t think so. They have their own reasons for staying in the dark.”
“Well we can’t complain…”
Ruth gestured towards the place where the fire had exploded.
“I can’t believe how lucky we were. With BloodRaven down they would have finished you all, and I would be running behind that bastard’s horse. But it was like something called down lightning on the fire. I’ve never seen my father run from a fight before.”
“He didn’t have much choice”, said Han. His horse looked half mad after the flaming arrows hit it.
“Flaming arrows? Lightning strikes? It’s amazing what you miss when you’re dodging in the dark. Now, where’s our self-professed hero got to…”
He found BloodRaven fifty yards from the camp. He looked as if he’d started to crawl after the fleeing Hounds, and then collapsed.
Erik swore, knelt beside him for a moment, swore more strongly and started to drag him back towards the camp. Ruth and Han rushed to help him, but he waved Ruth back.
“The boy and I can manage him. We’ll need some light. Sweep as many of the embers together as you can, and cover them with the driest bushes.”
Ruth finished doing this just as they hauled the big man back to his scorched bedroll. Erik reached backwards and handed Ruth a pouch.
“Sprinkle some of this on the embers. Just a little, mind, like you were salting a stew.”
“What makes you think I’m much of a cook,” the girl snorted. But she did as he asked, and gasped as the flames leapt up again, feeding on the branches as if they were indeed a feast.
She handed the pouch back carefully.
In the flaring light, Erik examined BloodRaven’s head.
“This idiot must have a skull like an ape… It isn’t broken, and that’s something.”
“Will he live then?” asked Han, his voice almost pleading.
“If he makes it through the night.” Erik continued to press gently, exploring the whole of BloodRaven’s skull. He was mumbling, almost to himself. “Still some danger of intercrainial haemorrhage, concussion of course…” Then he seemed to see the two of them again. “Of course he’ll survive, he’s a hero, isn’t he?”
BloodRaven’s eyes flickered open.
“Norra hero, not anymore…” He strained to get up. “Bastard stole, stole my sword.” He looked at Erik, puzzlement in his eyes. “How did he do that? How did he steal the magic?” He slumped again, and his breath slowed, as if into sleep or towards death.
Again Erik seemed to be talking more to himself than to the unconscious barbarian. “He didn’t my friend. The sword wasn’t stolen, you see, it abandoned you…”
Chapter Seven
Of swords in the night, death and worse than death, of those who flee and those who are caught. Of the merits of running away.
The night dissolved into a nightmare of shouting, of leather armed men pouring into the circle like an evil tide edged with metal teeth.
Han tried to jump to his feet, slipped, sprawled full length at the feet of two Hounds. They laughed, unable to believe their luck, and two blades swept up ready to kill. Han managed to fumble his sword out – at least he would die with a blade in his hand.
Erik took a minute to estimate the numbers of the enemy, and then he seemed to flow around the stone at his back, hidden at least for a second from his attackers.
BloodRaven laughed. His blade was out already, and the crimson light flowed from it like a prophecy of blood. He took two strides forward and hurled himself into the press of oncoming hounds, his shoulder barging three of them from their feet, his blade slashing down to make sure they stayed there forever.
Ruth crouched with a stone at her back, a slim sword in one hand, a wicked dagger dropping from her sleeve into her left hand. The first man to approach her raised his sword over his head to cut her down, and died before he even completed his backswing, her rapier darting forward to pierce his throat. She stepped back, and felt the solid stone comforting her back.
Aidan Ben Driech sat on his black horse and watched.
Han twisted his head up so that he could look his killers in the eye, and so he saw the moment when the first Hound’s left eye took a barbed shaft to the feathers. The man dropped on the spot. His comrade started to shout a warning, and so he took his arrow in the mouth instead of the eye. Han didn’t even gape, just rolled sideways as quickly as he could, looking for shadow.
Erik used his moment of cover to blow his own blade, feinted to the right and slashed left, feeling steel bite flesh before dipping his left hand to his belt to cup a clay ball about the size of an eye. He turned to face seven Hounds rushing towards him.
Ruth killed quietly, save for a feral hiss that squeezed between gritted teeth, one blade to parry, and one to kill, but her back was to the stone, and the Hounds moved to flank her. Two of them dropped with arrows in their backs.
BloodRaven killed with a fierce joy, his sword drawing scarlet patterns of blood and light, almost seeming to draw him forward to more slaughter.
“Forward friends, or will you leave all these curs for me?”
And Aidan Ben Driech sat on his black horse and waited.
Han slashed out from under a bush, hamstringing a hound, and he rolled again, deeper into cover.
As the seven closed on Erik he flipped the ball over their heads, over the stone behind them, back towards the fading fire.
Ruth left her dagger in the throat of the Hound on her left, flipped her too slim rapier to parry a heavy sword’s cut.
BloodRaven stood alone in a circle of slain, raised his sword and pointed it directly at Aidan Ben Driech, light leaping from it like fire.
And Aidan Ben Driech nodded as he walked his black horse towards BloodRaven, and as he nodded the light shut off from BloodRaven’s sword as if it was a snuffed candle.
The barbarian gaped at the blade, and barely saw the blow from Aidan’s mace which smashed him from his feet. Through a haze of blood he saw the outlaw general sway down from his mount and scoop up the quiescent blade. He tried to stand as Aidan wheeled and began to ride away.
“As I said, kill them all.”
And then all hell broke loose. The campfire flared as bright as a noonday sun, a crack of thunder echoed around the stone circle, deafening. Embers exploded outwards, studding leather armour with flaring coals, Two arrows, aimed towards Ben Driech as he rode away, caught fire in flight and hung for a moment from his cloak before falling back on to his horse, maddening the beast and sending it bolting into the night. His surviving Hounds followed, equally panicked and scarcely slower. More arrows from the night chased them.
**************************************************************************************************
Erik made his way back towards the blasted fire. A trickle of blood ran from his forehead, and seven dead men lay on the ground behind him.
From the bushes to his left a scrabbling figure dragged itself to its feet, eyes strangely wide against a blackened face.
“Well done, Han, you’ve survived your first brush with glory.”
“How did you… I was sure they’d got you. There must have been at least six of them right on your heels.”
“I managed to dodge them in the dark – they’re probably still chasing me. Except for one, and he gave me this before I got him.” Erik brushed at the blood on his forehead, smearing it across his face in the process, making the wound seem worse than it was.”
Ruth was still crouched against the stone, her eyes scanning for more enemies.
“I owe you an apology, Ruth. You did have archers in the dark after all. Will they join us now?”
“I don’t think so. They have their own reasons for staying in the dark.”
“Well we can’t complain…”
Ruth gestured towards the place where the fire had exploded.
“I can’t believe how lucky we were. With BloodRaven down they would have finished you all, and I would be running behind that bastard’s horse. But it was like something called down lightning on the fire. I’ve never seen my father run from a fight before.”
“He didn’t have much choice”, said Han. His horse looked half mad after the flaming arrows hit it.
“Flaming arrows? Lightning strikes? It’s amazing what you miss when you’re dodging in the dark. Now, where’s our self-professed hero got to…”
He found BloodRaven fifty yards from the camp. He looked as if he’d started to crawl after the fleeing Hounds, and then collapsed.
Erik swore, knelt beside him for a moment, swore more strongly and started to drag him back towards the camp. Ruth and Han rushed to help him, but he waved Ruth back.
“The boy and I can manage him. We’ll need some light. Sweep as many of the embers together as you can, and cover them with the driest bushes.”
Ruth finished doing this just as they hauled the big man back to his scorched bedroll. Erik reached backwards and handed Ruth a pouch.
“Sprinkle some of this on the embers. Just a little, mind, like you were salting a stew.”
“What makes you think I’m much of a cook,” the girl snorted. But she did as he asked, and gasped as the flames leapt up again, feeding on the branches as if they were indeed a feast.
She handed the pouch back carefully.
In the flaring light, Erik examined BloodRaven’s head.
“This idiot must have a skull like an ape… It isn’t broken, and that’s something.”
“Will he live then?” asked Han, his voice almost pleading.
“If he makes it through the night.” Erik continued to press gently, exploring the whole of BloodRaven’s skull. He was mumbling, almost to himself. “Still some danger of intercrainial haemorrhage, concussion of course…” Then he seemed to see the two of them again. “Of course he’ll survive, he’s a hero, isn’t he?”
BloodRaven’s eyes flickered open.
“Norra hero, not anymore…” He strained to get up. “Bastard stole, stole my sword.” He looked at Erik, puzzlement in his eyes. “How did he do that? How did he steal the magic?” He slumped again, and his breath slowed, as if into sleep or towards death.
Again Erik seemed to be talking more to himself than to the unconscious barbarian. “He didn’t my friend. The sword wasn’t stolen, you see, it abandoned you…”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-11-16 08:08 pm (UTC)I like how the sword goes!! very clever.. and that Aidan is a nasty piece of work!
Umm - howabout, hell ascended, as if from the very fire? nawh - now I see why I'm the one reading, and you're the one writing!
More! More!
no subject
Date: 2005-11-16 08:10 pm (UTC)