'I do not need you.' The elf rested one hand languidly on his sword-the black sword of the swordmaster of the elves. 'My blade and I have work to do.'
The apprentice was unmoved. 'Then I will make sure you are free to do it.'
The apprentice led the way into the best possible cover-not the obvious place to hide, it was a place in which only a ranger could disappear. He used his sword to slit a thin carpet of the dead, dry grass, and he slid beneath it, disappearing totally from view. Unwilling to follow a mere student's lead, Recca stood proud and alone on the hilltop until prudence dictated that he hide at last.
Soon, shambling footfalls sounded on the turf. The undead servants came to build their master's wall. With them came their overlords-a general, his scribes, and advisors-all feeling perfectly safe so far behind their lines. Soon the sounds of the attack came-rangers' war cries and the sounds of spells. Recca saw his target standing and staring at the commotion. The elf rose in silence, sliding forward to strike from behind-
And then everything went wrong.
Eleven of Recca's men engaged the undead in battle, and the air rang to the sound of piercing screams. Shambling, rotting corpses on the hillside split open as shapes inside the dead flesh exploded into the air. The zombies burst and took shape as filth-spattered, howling monsters with dead grey skin, fangs, and claws. Carnivorous and mad with rage, they flung themselves on the freedom fighters, fighting in a frenzy of speed.
Recca swiped with his sword, but his target was merely an illusion-a spell sent by an enemy that mocked him. From within the enemy tents, more shapes exploded into the sky-abyssal bats and huge rotting demons, skull-headed and spewing acid as they flew. A blast of fluid ploughed through Recca's men, turning three into skeletons and scattering the others.
A laughing toadlike demon lurched up the hillside toward Recca. The huge demon was covered in pustules and bristled with fangs. It struck sparks from the boulders with its claws. Towering over the elf, the demon leaped and capered on the hill, bellowing in lust and glee.
As the monster drew near, three of the wights attacked Recca. He spun past one, cut, spun, cut again. The sole surviving monster threw itself at him. Recca ran and jumped, twirling like an acrobat. He landed behind his prey, lanced backward with his sword, and felt it strike home. He jerked his blade free, turned, and decapitated his enemy in a single blinding stroke.
Behind him, he heard a blade striking with incredible speed-once, twice, thrice-strokes that hit home with massive force. Recca saw his apprentice standing, smeared with soil and dust. Two wights lay dead at his feet, each one almost sheared in two. Seeing the abyssal bats and wights charging into the other men, Recca turned and lunged toward the valley with its gully and its traps.
'Retreat!' Recca bellowed.
Recca ran. He sped as only a grass elf could-the swiftest runners of the Flanaess. Amongst thick brush and boulders too thick for the titanic bats to penetrate, Recca ducked past traps, reached safety, and then looked back up the hill.
His apprentice had obeyed him, running with the heavy, lumbering stride of a big man. He reached the boulders, turned, and saw his comrades fighting not far away. There were now only five survivors, but they were making for the gully, and the enemy had left themselves open to attack. The apprentice flicked an eye over the fight, then moved forward.
'Master, I'll go left. You can hit from behind once they see me charge.'
Recca looked at the fight and sheathed his blade. 'No.'
His apprentice stared, his eyes searching Recca for an answer, unable to comprehend. 'Why?'
Honor! Men like Recca and his marauding rangers could not afford the luxury of honor. Survival was a practical art, and only survivors returned to fight and kill and win. Recca raked his apprentice with a glance that despaired of the human's petty intellect.
'You suffer from an overdeveloped sense of justice.'
'We can save them!'
The apprentice stared, shocked and lost. 'They did what you asked them to!'
'Because they were sworn to!' Recca's voice rose in anger at his student looming over him in the gully. 'People are tools! You leave them when you're done with them!'
Recca turned to go. His student watched him leave, turned… then charged.
He was young, but he had a violence in him that could detonate mountains. The big man burst through the weeds and ploughed his sword through an abyssal bat, cleaving off its wing. The bat screamed and spurted out a column of acid. The apprentice dived and rolled, and the acid missed him, blasting a second bat off its feet. The huge man lifted a hand, and a spell made grass burst into life and grapple a bat to the ground. He stabbed down with his sword in one swift blow-and two bats were dead and down.
The other rangers fled, fighting their way back to the gully. Wights sprang like javelins from the grass, but the apprentice cut them down, sheltering injured comrades as they helped each other walk. He fought as he had never fought before-swift, punishing, and precise. He was death. Swift, pitiless, and unyielding. Recca watched his student fight, and he simply stared.
His apprentice was holding them back. He was holding them! If survivors returned with tales of Recca fleeing the battle, his ambitions of leadership would be dead. Recca snarled and charged into the fight. He spun in a spectacular acrobatic flip over the enemy, spinning to cut a shapeshifter through the spine.
Far beyond its warriors, the toad demon watched the fight. The beast reared, its great yellow gut swelling as it roared in challenge. It was a demon none would dare to fight except a swordmaster. Recca sped away from the combat and ran at his chosen foe. He gave an ululating scream, feeling the glory of the eagle in his veins. He was Recca, he was a blademaster, and he was invincible!
The demon had a sword of its own, but the monster never bothered to draw. It blinked out of sight. Recca stopped, looking wildly about, then staggered as something tore into his back. The demon stood behind him, bawling with joy. Recca spun and cut, but the monster had gone, and again claws ripped him from behind, tearing through his armor and gouging his flesh. Recca lurched, lashed out-then had the sword smashed from his grasp. The demon croaked, its throat pouch puffing. Recca dragged a dagger from his belt and blundered forward, screeching in hatred as the demon laughed.
The demon struck, punching through armor, ripping Recca's heart out of his chest. The elf collapsed to his knees, staring in horror. The demon held the heart above its head, screaming in victory-and then suddenly it fell back with a roar. A sword hacked at the creature. The demon dodged, only to be caught by a kick from a massive boot. The demon staggered, and suddenly Recca's apprentice was there, huge with rage.
The toad flickered out of sight. The apprentice whirled and swung, but the screaming monster had appeared behind him. It caught the humans sword and snapped the blade in two. Snarling, the apprentice turned and tore the black blade out of Recca's dying grasp. He cut, the blow fast and vicious, but the demon disappeared an instant before the blade struck home.
The apprentice reversed and jammed his sword behind him, striking the demon as it reappeared. Black, steaming blood burst from the fat toad's guts. The monster screamed, wrenched free, then flashed out of sight again. Whirling, the apprentice brought his sword down in a massive blow aimed at empty air behind him.
The demon flickered back into view, and the blow smashed the demon in two, plowing through skull and chest.
Other monsters backed away as the bisected monster fell aside. The warrior bellowed, and his enemies fled into the gloom.
Somehow, Recca still lived. He lived long enough to see his apprentice win the fight that he had failed.
The apprentice worked in silence. Stone-faced, he hacked off Recca's hand and foot to prevent the corpse being animated as a weapon. He buried the body in the same shallow scrape of dirt that had hidden him before the attack. He placed the heads of Recca's kills at his head and feet. He made no prayers, for the gods were a mockery who enslaved the weak.
Recca was gone. It was as if the swordmaster had been judged and found wanting. The apprentice took Recca's sword to honor him, letting the blade go on to do its work.
