“What are you smiling at?” Veda spat, clearly distressed with what had likely been a rehearsed conversation gone awry.
“She listened to me,” Asher said, confusing the Father.
Any misunderstanding was immediately cleared up when Avandriell darted through the open window, situated high on the far wall, and collided with the Arakesh at Asher’s back. Even with their heightened senses, their human bodies were incapable of responding to her speed and ferocity. The dragon’s claws, combined with her speed and force, took the man by his leg, snapping it out of shape and, ultimately, taking him off his feet. With ferocious haste, Avandriell dragged the assassin into the adjacent stall, out of sight. His screams were quickly silenced by razor-sharp fangs.
Before either dragon or man had even impacted the ground, however, Asher had leapt forward and brought a downward swing onto Veda Malmagol. The Father managed to parry the silvyr a few inches from his face before countering with his twin short-swords. The ranger jumped back and evaded that second blade only to be assaulted by two more Arakesh. He twisted his body to avoid one before ducking under the second. Rising to his full height, Asher planted a solid kick in one of the assassin’s gut, throwing the woman into Veda.
Free of them both, he met the challenge of the third with a style of parrying known to the elves. It saw him release his grip on the hilt of the weapon as he swapped hands again and again, deflecting the incoming attacks from a multitude of angles while simultaneously confusing the opponent. After a few seconds, the ranger had found his enemy’s opening and he sprang, slashing across the Arakesh’s midriff once and then again after spinning on the ball of his foot. The second strike cut through his leathers and chest to deliver a mortal blow to the man’s heart.
The assassin’s body had barely hit the floor before another of his ilk was upon Asher. Gripping the ranger’s cloak in both hands, the Arakesh yanked him back with enough force to put Asher on the ground. The impact was almost enough to take the wind out of his lungs, but he retained enough sense to know he was being dragged across the stables. Asher tucked in his legs and twisted his hips to narrowly miss the blades of those surrounding him.
A feral anger erupted from somewhere deep in his mind, only it wasn’t his anger. A bronze blur flew across the stables and slammed into the assassin dragging the ranger. Like the other, he was swept from his feet in a splash of blood and gnawing fangs before his body shattered the wood of the closest stall.
Asher used what was left of his momentum and rolled backwards in order to jump up to his feet. Seeing three Arakesh dashing towards him, the ranger quickly unclipped his cloak and let it fall to his feet in a heap.
Throwing himself into the next fight, Asher deflected and parried, but their combined number and angles of attack left the ranger with stinging cuts across various limbs. Growling with the pain, he twisted his body around and brought a sharp elbow into the face of the closest. The Arakesh’s head was whipped back, making him unaware of the silvyr blade plunging towards his gut. After securing the man’s death, Asher lashed out with a foot and kicked back one of the other two, giving him time and space to pull free his bloody short-sword.
That was all he had time for.
Veda had recovered from his fall and was coming down on Asher from a leaping start. The two combatants fell into the rhythm of their lethal dance, their blades clashing between them. The ranger often had to work twice as fast to meet and counter both of Veda’s blades, the Father proving himself the most capable among them with Nightfall’s fighting styles.
Asher grunted and growled as a few swipes and slashes got through his defences and tore at his skin. One particular slice opened a healing wound on his leg and caused him to stagger back, offering Veda the perfect opportunity to jump and kick the ranger across the face. The pain spread through his jaw before a greater pain struck him in the head after colliding with a supporting post. Knowing his enemy, Asher pushed away from the post and evaded the Father’s incoming swing.
Where most men would have succumbed to their pain, the ranger welcomed it as an old friend. Pain always brought back his earliest of lessons in Nightfall, reminding him of the strength he had needed to overcome every obstacle, and it had been a life of obstacles. Using his pain to focus his thoughts, Asher planned his next three moves.
The first: relieve Veda of one of his blades and even the fight. He did this with ease, since the Father’s last swing had buried his short-sword in the post. Asher had but to chop down with his silvyr blade and the Arakesh’s weapon was knocked to the ground and taken by the shadows.
The second: drive the pommel of his short-sword into the Father’s eye. It was an agonising blow for any creature and Veda was no exception. He threw his head back and howled as he clutched the strip of fabric over his bleeding eye. His throat exposed, Asher rammed his open palm into his foe’s neck, stealing his breath.
The third and final move: the ranger snatched at the red blindfold, removing it from Veda’s head altogether. When, and only when, the Father met his eyes did Asher drive his silvyr blade into his gut. It wouldn’t be a quick death.
Veda’s eyes bulged with pain and shock. He released his remaining short-sword, letting it clatter to the ground, and gripped Asher’s arm. With what he had left of his strength, he held the ranger’s arm in place, preventing him from removing the silvyr.
“I’ll live long enough to watch you die,” he hissed.
Asher made to pull his
