The leader of the Sandoc rounded on D’rmas. He lunged towards the free warrior with his sword, but D’rmas was quick and parried the stroke. As they moved, their eyes stayed on each other trying to ascertain weak points on their stance – points where it was more likely for each to strike blood.
Like a rehearsal, the two of them danced. Striking, parrying, and striking again. The Sandoc slashed at D’rmas, aiming for his throat, but D’rmas was not born just the day before. Though the Sandoc was fast, D’rmas had seen his move even before he made it. Quickly, like the strike of a viper, D’rmas raised his sword vertically, intercepting the Sandoc’s strike. In the same second, he went under the Sandoc’s sword and slashed the Sandoc across the thigh.
The leader turned to face D’rmas, apparently unfazed by the cut D’rmas had just given him. But for the line of blood at the edge of D’rmas blade, there was no indication that the leader had been hit.
Instead, the Sandoc chief just smiled.
“I would not expect any less from you,” he told D’rmas.
“This is not a point you concede,” D’rmas corrected. “Whether you like it or not, I’ve drawn your blood.”
“Fair. But let us see who lies dead at the end of this!”
The man was still speaking when he dashed at D’rmas. He made to strike at D’rmas right side but feinted to the left. D’rmas saw the move but was unable to react in time. The Sandoc’s blow nicked him on his ribs.
The Sandoc gave a bloodthirsty smile. An indication that he was not done yet. D’rmas was furious. The Sandoc had not wounded him deeply, but the cut still hurt. It was then that he remembered what was said about the strike of a Sandoc blade: “One little strike could hurt like the sting of a thousand scorpions.”
“You feel it, eh?” the Sandoc asked him.
D’rmas gave him a furious glare.
Enough of this! D’rmas thought.
He dashed towards the Sandoc, striking so fast that soon all that could be seen were two men and chaos of metal strokes and sparks between them. Noticing that the Sandoc’s attention was on parrying and blocking his strikes, D’rmas stooped low and stretched his legs, upsetting the Sandoc’s balance. The Sandoc swayed, but the momentary lapse was enough for D’rmas to land a blow on the Sandoc’s head. The Sandoc chief staggered backward. D’rmas launched a few strikes, which the Sandoc blocked. But this time, his parries were weak and disconnected, still trying to regain control of himself.
D’rmas did not give him a chance. He kept striking, one heavy blow after the other. The Sandoc would stretch out his sword and parry each huge blow, but it was taking its toll. As he reached out to parry yet another blow, D’rmas reached out with his feet, kicking out the blade from the Sandoc’s grasp. D’rmas whirled, extending his sword in the process. The move had been so quick that for a time the result of the strike was not visible. The leader of the Sandoc knelt on the ground, confusion stirring in his eyes. He turned and looked at the environment, littered with the bodies of his people. Then he looked to see Eldana and Siem coming up to join D’rmas. He had failed his ancestors.
But surely it is not my fault, he thought. The magician did not tell me how strong they were when he sent me?
Just then a line of blood grew on his neck, and then it grew till blood spurted out of his neck. D’rmas, Eldana, and Siem watched him struggle to breathe with a look of indifference on their faces. The Sandoc chief fell dead.
The fight was over, and those Sandoc who had not fallen fled into the woods. The three companions had just turned to leave when Eldana heard the sound of singing. She halted abruptly. Siem turned, a confused look on her face.
“What is the matter?’ she asked as she fixated on Eldana.
“Do you hear it?” Eldana asked.
“Hear what?” D’rmas inquired.
He stepped closer to where Eldana stood and listened keenly.
It was the voice of a single person, singing in a language she could not understand. The unknown singer’s voice was high-pitched, yet, Eldana found the song serene, with a powerful soothing effect.
“Hmm,” D’rmas said, a smile growing on his face. “I can hear it too.”
“Singing.” Siem supplied, a grin on her face.
The volume of the singing increased and was soon accompanied by a rich rendition of unseen flutes. The louder the music got, the stiffer the atmosphere grew. It was like the natural air was being sucked, and in its place, the aura of the music spread, swallowing the mind of any ear within its reach.
Eldana, Siem, and D’rmas had smirks on their faces, as they swayed and turned stupefyingly. Their eyes no longer held any personality, just vacancy and excitement.
They were too ensnared in the song’s enchantment, they did not notice the people that began to walk out of the surrounding trees.
They were a group of tall, elegant people, with amazingly bearing and luxurious hair. At the lead was a woman, whose eyes were a shimmering honey-brown. She looked at the trio dancing around, trapped in her enchantment, and with a quick finger gesture commanded that the trio of Eldana, Siem, and D’rmas be captured.
A small group of bare-chested men with fine bows and arrows slung across their shoulders stepped out of the larger group and walked towards the troika. None of the companions resisted when they were being dragged away. Their minds were still deep in the enchantment.
Hermon’s hands were covered in glossy red blood.
The
