the magic user was staring toward, he saw the opened box. “No!” he shouted, but in his weakened condition it came out as a hoarse whisper.
Reaching out, he took hold of his staff and tried to rise to his feet. But struggle as he could, his muscles were no longer up to the task. He was too weak and the pain of the burns unbearable. Collapsing back to the floor, he fought the onset of unconsciousness his exertions had brought. Taking deep breaths, he faded in and out but never quite succumbed.
Turning his head toward the combatants, he saw Chyfe and the others being pushed back. His vision started to blur and he blinked several times to clear it. When at last he could see again, the combatants had moved past where the box containing the gray powder sat. To his horror, he saw the enemy magic user kneeling next to it.
Kevik knew there wasn’t much time before the magic user would close the box’s lid and negate the effects of the powder. He raised his arm, and trembling in weakness though it may be, worked his hand within his robe. When his fingers brushed against the firm end of the wand, he grasped it and pulled it forth. The effort almost caused him to black out again but he managed to hold onto consciousness.
Once more, he turned his gaze down the passageway toward where the magic user was reaching for the lid of the box. As the magic user took hold of the lid and began to close it, Kevik brought the wand to bear. Then, as soon as the lid was closed, he used the last ounce of strength left to him to aim the wand directly toward the magic user and activate it. The last thing he saw before consciousness left him, were ice shards shooting down the passageway.
We can’t win this, Chad thought to himself. The soldier he faced off with had skill far above his own. All he had been able to do since the battle was first joined, was to maintain defense. It reminded him of the times back at the Guild when his instructors would practice with him. Block, block, parry, and dodge to the side were all he could manage without even considering trying to go on the offensive. He had tried that once and all he did was open his defenses. Now his left arm was bleeding from where his opponent had made it through.
Battling beside him, Chyfe and the twins weren’t having any better luck. Their opponents were simply too skilled for them to make any headway. Not to mention the fact they outnumbered them by one. All four sported at least one wound, Soth had the most and was growing weaker by the minute.
Then, Chad saw the magic user come to stand behind the soldiers and he knew it was over. But curiously, the magic user failed to employ his magic. Instead, he was doing something else that Chad currently didn’t have the luxury of time to figure out. When the magic user knelt near the side of the passageway, Chad let his concentration slip minutely as he glanced to see what he was doing, and almost had his opponent’s sword slice him in the face. Dodging backward to avoid the blow, Chad slipped and hit the ground. His eyes widened when he saw his opponent move forward to finish him.
All of a sudden, he felt the temperature drop dramatically. Poised above him for the deathblow, the soldier paused in mid-strike and glanced further down the passageway.
Wham!
Ice shards suddenly came from out of nowhere and ripped into him before continuing on to slam into the magic user. A score of the shards flew over Chad, devastating the soldier and the magic user.
The suddenness of the attack distracted another of the soldiers enough that Seth was able to land a lethal blow to his midsection.
“What the hell was that?” yelled Soth. Moving his sword quickly, he brought it up to block the downward hack of the man he was facing.
“It must have been Kevik!” shouted Chad. Getting back to his feet he moved to aid Soth. Before rejoining the battle, he saw where the magic user laid, multiple shards had ripped through his robe and blood was pooling beneath him. Now that he was out of the way as were two of the five soldiers facing them, maybe they would have a chance.
Wham!
The sound of the ice shard attack distracted Lord Kueryn just enough that his blow failed to strike Bart.
Bart rolled to the side, and then bracing his feet on the bottom step, launched himself up and onto the dais.
Lord Kueryn glanced back and saw Geffen fly out of the passageway amidst a spray of ice shards. When he saw one exit the magic user’s back, he knew Geffen was dead. Rage at the loss flared to an overpowering need to kill those responsible. Turning back to the thief who was the cause of it all, he raised his sword and moved to attack.
Bart was shocked to witness the death of the magic user. As incredible as it may seem, Kevik had triumphed!
“You are dead, thief!” Lord Kueryn exclaimed.
Rolling to the side, Bart remained on the floor of the dais as he continued to roll across its surface away from the enraged lord. Behind him, Lord Kueryn stepped onto the dais and followed.
The thief was trying to get away from him, rolling like a dog. Lord Kueryn quickly caught up with him and was about to strike when he felt something hit his arm. In his rage and need to end the life of this thief, he paid it little heed. Then when another sharp jab brought pain to his sword hand, he looked and saw the tip of a small, two inch dart embedded in his skin. Already, red tendrils were beginning to spider their way across his skin. Ignoring the pain, he raised his sword to kill the thief.
Bart saw the darts protruding from him. He had hoped his roll would trigger the traps guarding this place. Now, he scooted backward off the dais and rolled down the steps, remaining low in case more of the deadly projectiles were launched. All the while he kept his eyes riveted on the lord who was intent on his death.
Lord Kueryn followed him down the steps, and when his foot touched the floor, momentarily lost his balance. Upon regaining it, he continued forward toward Bart and managed to take two more steps before his sword fell from his hand. Now swollen and covered in red tendrils, his hand could no longer hold it.
He gazed incredulously at his empty hand an instant before following his sword to the floor. Reaching his swollen hand out, he sought his sword and when he touched its hilt was unable to make his hand clasp around it.
“Uncle,” Haran said as he came to the dying man’s side.
Lord Kueryn glanced up to his nephew with hate in his eyes. “Call…me…not!” he gasped.
“Uncle,” Haran again said, “I shall return the Orack people to greatness.”
“T…trai…” he tried to say, but then his strength left him.
As his uncle lay there breathing his last, Haran turned to where Lord Hurrin and Riyan continued to battle. Riyan was awash with blood from the numerous times the lord had breached his defenses. “Lord Hurrin!” exclaimed Haran. When the lord failed to respond to him, Haran said, “I command you to desist!”
Disengaging, Lord Hurrin took a step back and kept an eye on a panting Riyan as he glanced toward Haran. Then he saw where Lord Kueryn lay. “Dead?” he asked.
“Shortly,” replied Haran. “I will soon succeed my uncle as Warlord of the Orack Tribe.”
Lord Hurrin gazed to where Lord Kueryn lay dying then back to Haran. Unreadable thoughts came and went as he took in the new situation. Then, he came to a decision. Giving a slight bow to Haran he said, “As you wish my lord.”
“Now,” commanded Haran, “tell your men to stop fighting.”
“Yes, my lord,” he replied. Moving to the passageway, he ordered his men to break off.
As the three remaining Tribesmen disengaged from Chad and the twins, Captain Lyrun continued the fight. Which was just fine with Chyfe. Though he sported several wounds courtesy of the captain, he fought on with great determination.
Captain Lyrun on the other hand bore but one wound and it was barely a nick.
Slash, block, hack, the two combatants continued to fight. Seth came to aid Chyfe but Chyfe shouted, “He’s mine!”
“But you can’t take him!” argued Seth. And as if to accentuate the point, Captain Lyrun’s blade penetrated Chyfe’s guard and stabbed him in the shoulder of his sword arm.
Seth had seen enough. Against Chyfe’s wishes, he moved forward with sword drawn and engaged Captain Lyrun. Now with two opponents, the captain was forced to concentrate more on defense and less on killing Chyfe.
“I can take him!” argued Chyfe as blood flowed from his shoulder.
