I feel as if I should begin with a small preface. For those of you who have read my last work, you know that I can be a little dark at times. I've attempted to have a little lighter of a tone in this one, while still giving it my own twist. This story is one that I have been working on for a while, basically since I finished the last one. It's nowhere near finished, but I thought that I'd like to get it out there to see what people think of it. So please leave a comment, whether you liked it or not. I enjoy constructive criticism as much as praise. I hope that you enjoy.
Warning: This story contains graphic violence and adult language throughout. Viewer discretion is advised.
Chapter 2: The BeginningSer Coneric stared across the large expanse of field that separated him from the forest looming in the background. The long grass waved back and forth in the wind as if each individual stalk was beckoning him onward in his quest. The light green contrasted perfectly with the darker color of the forest, eventually giving way to black and white mountains and blue sky. All was right with the world. Even as beautiful as the scene was, however, he could not keep his mind from wandering back to the muddy streets and ratty houses that populated the metropolitan center of Ularia. It was like every other large city in the land these days: beautiful, new, and shiny where the visitors were directed to go, but impoverished and desperate where no one was looking. On his way out of the castle at the center of the city, he had purposefully made sure to turn to the side and pass through those unpaved streets. It was to remind himself where he had come from. Of the sufferings and deprivations he had lived through in order to get to where he was now. He had to hold back a smirk when he saw Lira unconsciously lift up her nose in disgust at the sight of two children playing in a puddle of muddy water and human excrement. She had never seen such a spectacle, but Coneric had lived it.
Still, it was hard to be down when such natural beauty was all around him, and as he stole a quick glance to the side, seeing Lira looking down at some tome even as she walked beside him along the dirt road that led toward the forest, he had to add her as a part of the scene. She wore a heavy cloth tunic that looked ostentatious and stifling in this heat, but even with the effort the clothing made to conceal her body, her pleasing figure could be seen through it. On top of that, it was far too warm for her to be wearing her hooded cloak, so her bright blond hair fell in a perfectly-braided line down her back. Her clear face almost sparkled against the light of the sun. She was definitely part of the natural beauty.
A hand on his left shoulder's armor startled him, and he whipped around, his own hand on the handle of his sword, to see Telemnon giving him a disdainful glare. The elf, with his pointed ears, emphatic forehead, and high cheekbones, pulled off utter dismissal better than any Coneric had ever met. The line that slashed down his face and grayed his right eye only made his scowl fiercer. Coneric removed his hand from the sword and absently scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. The elf leaned in close, and his hiss sounded more like a snake than a humanoid.
"I suggest you desist envisioning yourself and the female rutting and begin focusing on our mission immediately, human." He spit the word, as Coneric would speak of a boar or a king. "Why our master placed you in command of this mission is something I will never comprehend." With a rough jerk, he shoved Coneric away and began briskly striding ahead of him. But, Coneric did not miss him give just the slightest of glances at Lira's backside which, since she had been too engrossed in her book to notice them stop walking, was slightly ahead of them and shifting around pleasantly.
'What a damn hypocrite.' Coneric thought as he angrily began walking forward as well, boring holes through Telemnon's back with his eyes. Still, it was nothing he had not become used to in the days he had spent with his three new companions. In fact, ever since the king had declared Coneric to be the leader (and knighted him, giving him the title of "Ser," no less), Lira, Telemnon, and even old Gornack had been doing nothing but question him and disrespect his authority. But Coneric did not care. He knew that mostly they were just as anxious as he was to rescue the King's daughter before anything bad happened to her. 'But speaking of which, where is Gornack?' His thoughts wandered to the crusty aging dwarf who, like Coneric and the other two, had volunteered right there in the King's court to find the young girl when she had been stolen by the cloaked stranger and his dark magic. He shifted his head from left to right before finally seeing the dwarf huffing and puffing his way along the trail about a hundred feet behind the three of them.
Coneric smiled slightly at the sight, but quickly hid it away on the off chance that dwarves might have super-senses like elves. After all, it was not like he could blame the dwarf, who was decked out in his full battle armor. If Lira's clothing seemed inappropriate for the weather, Gornack's looked like he had a personal problem with his skin not being boiled and served with lime. The dwarf resembled a rock more than anything else, with a huge breastplate, large segmented plates over his arms, forearms, and legs, huge kitten-stomping boots on his feet, and a spiked helmet with a full face visor which could be pulled down for full protection. His armor made Coneric's look like a child's. At the moment, though, Gornack had the visor up, and it gave Coneric a full view of the aging dwarf's beet-red face, gray hair, and wrinkles. In the past, Gornack would have had no trouble keeping up with the three of them, but his best centuries were behind him, though he never would have admitted it. Coneric turned back and beckoned for Lira and the elf to stop as he walked up to them. Both of them gave stares (questioning from Lira and impertinent from Telemnon), but in the end they both ceased walking long enough for Coneric to catch up to them.
"Don't want to leave the dwarf behind, 'specially since we're so close to the forest." Coneric reasoned to them, and as he looked up at the huge forest, he saw that they had gotten very close to it indeed. It was almost a stones-throw away.
"It was his choice to join this mission." Telemnon looked over his right shoulder, even though he could not see anything on that side from his eye, and somehow put more spite into his voice than he had when he was addressing Coneric. "It is his responsibility to not stray behind." Nevertheless, he made no motion to move on, and so the three of them stayed until Gornack finally caught up to them before plopping down on a tree that had fallen to the ground. His weight in his armor almost broke the tree, and it still groaned and bent under him, but it held on with the very last of its pride. The dwarf looked up at them, defiance on his face despite the streams of sweat flowing down his reddened face.
"It's da bloody sun!" He declared, as if his honor was on the line. "We ne'er had 'ta deal wid'dis shite in're tunnels."
"I'm sure things'll get better once we're in the forest." Coneric reassured him. "It'll be cooler in the shade." He hoped that was true, since he did not want anything to hold them back in their task.
"Just like a dwarf." Telemnon's working eye was narrowed, and he looked down his nose at the heaving little man.
Just like that, though, Gornack was on his feet, and his large-headed hammer was in his hands as if produced from thin air. "Ya' wanna' go, ya' stupid prissy arse-eared one-eyed elfin prick!?"
This time both of Telemnon's eyes narrowed, as self-consciousness and pride took hold of the elf. Even though Coneric hadn't thought it possible, he looked even more like a snake than before. His hand migrated toward the long elvish bow on his back, but then he smiled and drew his sword from its scabbard. It was a curved, scimitar-like sword, and he held it to his side as he advanced toward the dwarf. "The last time a dwarf spoke to me like that I cut out his tongue after making him beg for mercy. And he was half your age." His voice was calm, like he was engaging in idle chatter, not threatening death.
"Then come'n try ett!" The dwarf reached up and flipped down his visor, so that a metal, grimacing demon's face covered his own, with only small holes for breath and two larger ones for his eyes. With his face no longer visible, he suddenly lost the look of an old man.
"Hey, come one you two, don't do this." Coneric tried to calm the two of them, and even began to come in between them before the elf snapped at him in a voice that broached no argument. "Stay back, unless you want to die faster than you can regret your pitiful meaningless human existence."
The dwarf's growl conveyed the same feeling in far fewer words, and Coneric instinctively took a step back, out of their way. Before either of them could advance any closer to one another, though, a blue ball formed between them. It looked like it was made from liquid, and its surface shifted back and forth as if it was constantly turning within itself, and then Coneric realized that it actually was. In the second it took the three of them to notice and wonder at the ball, it bubbled out and exploded in a blast that threw all three of them to the ground. The elf landed the most gracefully, as he turned a back-flip into the air before landing on his hands and knees on the dirt road, while Coneric was thrown onto his backside in the tall grass before scrambling back up, and poor Gornack simply toppled over on the dusty road and lay there, feebly trying to get back up to his feet and finally rolling over and forcing himself back up. All three of them were embarrassed, and as one they looked to Lira, whose normally deep blue eyes were still glowing yellow from the spell. She looked each of them in the eye as the light began to fade from her own.
"We have too much to worry about to fight amongst ourselves." Her voice had a soft chime to it, like small bells were sounding behind her. "Not only is the daughter of our king missing, we only have the barest of ideas about where she is, and we must make it to the town at the middle of this vast forest before the sun goes down. This forest will be enough of a trouble for us, too. It's been rumored to contain orcs, giant spiders, and even bandits lately. We need to stay together as one unit, or we'll never get Christina back."
None of them met her gaze, and for a moment Coneric felt shame that she was the one to stop the conflict, but he held his head up, knowing it was all he could do, and spoke. "Come on, let's get going." No one felt like arguing with him this time, and as one they advanced into the dark forest, soon disappearing into the gloom that surrounded it.
Several hours later, the sun was dipping down in the sky, and Coneric was thinking that the group would have to camp within the confines of the forest. The prospect did not give him joy, but he was beginning to realize just how huge this forest was. Lira had insisted that they could make it to the town if they hurried, and so with only a ragged grunt from Gornack as a reply, they had quickened their pace. Still, the endless trail flowed out before them, a road only wide enough for a cart to pass through, and enough for seven or eight men to stand abreast. In any other area it would seem like a small road, but within the confines of the sea of green in front of them, it felt like they were miniscule, and as such it appeared larger than it truly was.
They were making good time, though, and upon looking over and seeing Lira's confident expression, he even began to think that maybe they would make it to the town before dark. His mind took on that thought and shifted to how it would feel to have a soft cot under him, a bowl of well-prepared food, and conversation with people that didn't consider him an inferior species, a young child, or a beggar from the street. He cracked a smile at the apparent superiority of his companions. They would see. When he returned with the daughter of the king, after heroically defeating the stranger who took her and all of his minions, then they would all see that he was truly the man it had been prophesied would come. He would restore peace to the kingdom and become a great general who fought only for good.
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not see Telemnon motion for him to pay attention, and it took a short, sharp hiss from the elf before Coneric looked up from the ground. A look to Telemnon told him that something was wrong, and he subtly directed his steps toward the other, got close, and whispered.
"What is it, Tel?" His voice sounded loud, since there was no noise in the forest.
"Don't call me that." The elf's voice was barely audible, as if you could miss it in complete silence if it wasn't directed at you. "We're being watched."
Coneric had to check his desire to look around or appear alarmed. "How many?"
"Many, probably bandits. They have three archers trained on us." If Telemnon was worried, he didn't show it.
"Damn, when do you think they'll attack?" Coneric felt his heart begin beat a stronger cadence.
"Right—"
"Now, what do we have here?" A voice cut him off and boomed across the unnatural silence. Coneric's head snapped in front of him, and he felt a queer churning begin in his stomach when a skinny, shorter man with a straight face walked from behind a tree into the middle of the road. "It looks like a band of travelers who, being so encumbered by their belongings, are having trouble getting to the town by nightfall." His words were lighthearted, but his tone was menacing enough for Coneric to know that this man wasn't some sort of beggar. The man took an insincere moment to look at each of them, only proving that he had been observing them, before speaking again. This time his tone was matter-of-fact. "Listen, I've got twenty men here, many of whom are hidden, just waiting to leave all of you in puddles of your own blood if you don't comply with us. Just allow us to search you, we'll take all of your valuable possessions, then let you continue on your way. Is that not reasonable?"
Coneric took a slight step forward, establishing himself as the speaker. "Hello Ser," the man had obviously done nothing to warrant the title, but Coneric felt it best to avoid any conflict. "my name is Ser Coneric, and the four of us are on a quest given to us directly by the King of this great land. His daughter has been captured, and it is up to us to rescue her before she is hurt, or worse."
There was no response from the man in front of him. He didn't seem impressed, so Coneric continued. "Normally we'd love to oblige you, but as you can see, we're preparing to fight a great force, if necessary, to save the King's daughter, so we'll need everything we have in order to save this land."
The man's face hardened. His eyes closed for a moment in a slow, deliberate blink, before he spoke again. "Okay, that's nice, Ser Coneric, but I honestly care nothing for this country, and I'll tell you right now that the King's never done anything right by me and my men, so your story really doesn't matter to us. Are you going to let this go peacefully?"
"I'm afraid I can't do that." Coneric's right hand went to his long sword, grasped the hilt, then pulled it out of its sheath and through the air with a finality that felt right to him. It felt like something a hero would do. He took a step back and whispered over his shoulder to his group.
"Wound them, incapacitate them, but don't kill them."
They all reacted in their own way, but he felt a certain sense of agreement, which pleased him. Maybe they were finally beginning to see him as the leader. He turned back just in time to see the bandit look around and sigh.
"Shoot 'em down!" His voice once again rang through the forest, and there was a twang of released tension as three bowstrings hummed from the trees. Coneric spun around, having forgotten in his excitement and panic about the archers, and clumsily reached for the shield on his back. He saw a sliver out of the corner of his eye, and realized that everything he was doing was too late, but even as he turned to face the arrow, he saw a flash of metal pass over his sight and connect with it. The brittle wood was snapped in two and was thrown to the ground by the force of the strike, as was the other projectile aimed at Lira. The third arrow simply bounced off of Gornack's face mask, he having had already pulled down his visor and taken up his hammer.
Coneric finished his spin without having accomplished anything, just in time to see Telemnon in one swift motion sheath his curved sword, draw his beautiful elven bow from his back with one hand, an arrow with the other, pull back the string, and send an arrow back at whoever had shot the first one. Before the arrow even left the bow, his hand was back for another. He pivoted, let it fly, picked another, turned, and shot the last one. By the time Coneric had grappled his shield from his back and assumed a battle stance, three archers fell from their respective branches. One had an arrow in his thigh, another had both of his arms pierced by one arrow, and the last had been unfortunate enough to put his hand on his thigh to steady himself after shooting, and therefore had an arrow gluing his two limbs together.
Coneric was slightly put off by the elf's effectiveness, especially when he saw how Lira's eyes widened, then lowered in admiration at the feat, but at the same time he was happy that Telemnon was following orders. All of the archers were incapacitated, but alive. It was like his weapons teacher had told him: Only two kinds of men killed; the weak, and the fearful. He pointed his sword at the bandit, who was still in the front of them on the road, and spoke with his most authoritative voice.
"This is your last chance to let us pass."
The bandit only smiled, then yelled out one last time.
"Let's kill 'em!"
Coneric sighed to himself. No warm bed for him tonight.
Roughly fifteen men scrambled from every little nook and crack in the forest in order to quickly surround the four of them. They unconsciously got closer together, and Lira got in between the three of them.
"If you can hold them off for long enough, I have a spell that can stop all of them."
They formed a triangle around her, and for a moment the bandits all waited in a ring around them, but then their leader's voice, now much closer than before, cut through them.
"Attack."
Almost as one unit, they surged in, but they quickly backed out. Those in front of Telemnon were the first to spring back, as his sword passed inches in front of their faces. Even as they jumped back, though, he took one step forward, pointed the sword in one hand like a rapier, and plunged it into a belly. The man fell to the ground, holding his stomach and screaming, and all those near him glanced down for a moment before looking back up. Their faces blanched, and Telemnon laughed.
On Gornack's side, two balked when he let loose a guttural dwarven howl, and the three that went forward paused when they saw that they were two less. Their hesitation cost them, as the dwarf rushed at one of them and sent his hammer down at an angle. The man raised his sword in an effort to stop the mighty blow, but the hammer simply smashed through the meager defense before slamming past his face and into his exposed kneecap. A snap like a dry twig was followed by a wet splat as the man fell forward and his leg under the knee fell back. He looked like a contortionist, and the man stuck looking at the gruesome sight felt more than saw the dwarf shift his attention to him. A second later, his breastplate was cracking under the weight of a full swing. The inferior metal protecting him bent inward, and he flew back and through the air before landing on his back a few feet away. The third man quickly backpedaled, which was wise, since the dwarf's next swing was where the man had been only a moment before.
Coneric was not as lucky, or as dynamic, as the first two. His five came straight in as one, and it took all of his skill and both hands to block all of the swords pointed at him. His shield came out on his left, glancing one blow off to the side and the other low with its sloped side, and his sword swung out to the right, crashing into one blade before sending it into the one next to it, forcing both of them to go wide. Even with these efforts, though, he still had to tuck his head to the side as the last sword went straight for his face. The fighter owning the sword looked at him with eyes that were too wide for his small pupils, and his grin flashed yellow teeth. Deciding he didn't like that one, Coneric brought both his shield and his sword arm back to the middle. The sword arm caught the man at the forearm, while the shield connected at the elbow, and the two opposing forces proceeded to make his arm bend in a way it was never intended to.
"Fuck!" The fighter fell back, holding his right arm with his left. He looked up at Coneric. "Shitdamn."
Coneric finished by pushing back with his shield against the two on his left and stabbing out at the two on his right, landing a glancing blow on one of their sides, but effectively getting them to back off. Things were as they were only a moment before, except four fighters were now on the ground, and the circle around them was less secure than it had been before. The screams of the two incapacitated bandits filled the air like background noise. In another second, though, the fighter Gornack had thrown to the ground stood up and took his position, while the cussing fighter looked at his leader, only a couple steps away, with pain evident in his wide-eyed stare.
"Cocking fuck!" His voice sounded like a complaint more than anything else. With his voice rising at the end like a child tearfully demanding a toy that has been refused it.
"I know, Cuss. They are strong. Okay, the three on the knight's side beside Cuss and William, move to the dwarf. Garm and Molloy, leave the elf to Noti and Demacio and get that damn dwarf." As soon as he spoke, five warriors broke formation and circled around them to get closer to the dwarf, while the leader joined Cuss and William in front of Coneric while drawing a long, curved knife from a sheath somewhere. Cuss switched his sword to his left hand and stood up, swinging his right arm back and forth and listening to the bones clicking as they knocked against one another.
"Dayum!" He almost sounded like he was admiring the arm, but then he looked up at Coneric and he scowled. "Motherfucka'."
"Forward." Coneric said, and as one, the three warriors took a step forward to clear as much space as they could for maneuvering. Lira was still in the middle of their formation, but now they were pushing out so that they would be able to protect her better and give her more room. She was slowly moving her body back and forth in a rhythmic dance. In a moment the battle started again, and Cuss and William charged Coneric. Cuss came from the left, swinging his sword down again and again with an abandoned sense of self preservation, while William came far on the right, jabbing his sword in quick thrusts. Coneric took two or three swings from Cuss before slanting the shield to the side so that Cuss' sword swept off to the side once it connected and slammed into the ground. In a smooth motion Telemnon would have approved of, Coneric spun around, crouched, and slid his sword through the exposed tendons on the back of Cuss' leg. By the time the man had fallen to the ground, Coneric had twisted back up and faced William, who had taken the opportunity to rush him. Not expecting him to recover so quickly, William stuttered in his attack, which allowed Coneric to tap his sword to the side before slamming the edge of his shield into the young man's nose. William's face exploded into a spray of red as his nose popped several times, and his eyes rolled back even as the force of the strike sent him to the ground. He was done.
Coneric took that moment to look around, and he saw that Telemnon had already gotten one of the two he was fighting through the side, but seemed to be having trouble with the fighter in front of him. The man named Demacio fought using only one hand, with the other tucked tightly behind his back, and though his sword was normal-sized, he moved it around like a rapier. Just from the few exchanges Coneric saw, he could tell that Demacio was good. He was almost as good as the elf, whose scimitar-induced slashing style was not meant for such a fight. Still, it was clear who the superior technician was, and Coneric had no worries about who would win. It would have been over already, in fact, had the other fighter, Noti, not been slashing here and there with his longsword just to frustrate the elf and then moving out of his range.
Gornack, on the other hand, was a complete whirlwind of destruction. He was in his element surrounded by the seven fighters (two had already been downed with crushed bones), and any trace of fatigue he had shown while jogging with his group was completely gone. Strikes the fighters did get through simply bounced off of the dwarf's superb body armor.
Lira had stopped her movements and was standing still in the middle of the road, her head down in meditation. Every so often, fighters would try to break from the melee to attack her seemingly defenseless body, but the three warriors always caught them and drew them back before they could reach her.
Content that his allies were safe, Coneric turned his attention back to the leader, but even though he had only looked away for a second, the leader wasn't there. He spun his head to his right, and saw the leader crouching under his normal field of vision, right before the bandit snapped out his leg and smashed it into the side of Coneric's knee. There were no snaps, but Coneric could feel that he had been caught, and he found himself limping slightly when he turned back around to follow the leader's circle around him. There was no doubt now in Coneric's mind as he eyed his opponent. This man was a coward, and would be beaten today. The battle was already won.
The leader had circled enough that Coneric could see Telemnon's fight behind his back, and he smiled when he saw that he was right. Noti's sword was on the ground, with a long red line up his forearm and blood flowing all along his arm. Without his annoying sidekick, Demacio's exceptional swordsmanship still paled in comparison with Telemnon's, and he was on the defensive. The leader charged and swung out with his knife, but Coneric simply blocked it to the side with his shield and swung back. Off in the back, Telemnon forced Demacio into a tree and then, in a flurry of movement that could only be described as terrifying, their swords danced between the two of them. They both moved with equal speed, but the battle was won by pure race advantages, and in another second Demacio's straight sword was on the ground.
Coneric smiled. With Telemnon free, he could help Gornack swiftly kill the last of those surrounding him, and then the three of them could kill the leader. Telemnon raised his sword above his head, but then a small black thing grew from the side of his head, followed by a second, then a third. In the span of moments it took Coneric to realize by the fletching that the things growing from the elf's head were arrows, Telemnon had already fallen to the ground, blood following him down like a small waterfall. His good eye was open and blank, but it looked like it was staring right into Coneric's.
For a moment, Coneric felt like nothing was real. There were no archers. Telemnon had gotten them all. Telemnon couldn't be dead. He had to be a part of their group when they saved the princess and brought peace back to the kingdom. He couldn't be dead. Couldn't.
The bandit looked him in the eyes and smiled. He didn't need to see what had happened. He already knew. "How's your quest going now?"
In shock, Coneric turned to Gornack, who didn't seem to be faring as well as it had previously looked. Two more of the men were down, but the five that were left were slamming their weapons as hard as they could into the dwarf, who was slowing. One especially, Molloy, looked bigger than the rest, and had discarded his sword for a club made from a large branch and studded with metal. Whenever Gornack turned his back while attacking someone else, Molloy lifted the club and slammed it down on the valiant elder. The dwarf showed no looks of pain at the attacks, but every step seemed slower than the last, and his attacks were losing their sting. He got one last of them with a wild swing blasting into his shoulder, but he left himself extended for too long, and Molloy rushed forward before slamming himself into the dwarf's back. The two of them fell to the ground, wrestling for position, but in moments the three others had joined the fight.
The dwarf kicked and cursed and fought with all of his strength, but they pinned him down and yanked open his visor even while he bucked under them. There was simply nothing he could do. He looked up and saw two of them raising their swords and, for the first time in his life, he let out a mewling cry. Whatever he would have said was lost in the sickening squelch as the two men shoved their swords over and over again into the dwarf's helmet. Blood was flying everywhere, and chunks of teeth and brains clung to the blades, but the two men didn't stop until the contents of Gornack's helmet were more liquid than solid. One of them dipped his head into the helmet and came away with a face-full of blood and gray matter. He looked back at Coneric and smiled. His sharpened teeth turning red. He howled like a dog.
In moments, everything was different. Coneric had been so sure of victory, had known it. Had considered this nothing more than a footstep before the saving of the princess. For just a second, he almost folded under the pressure, but then his battle instincts kicked in and he thought one thing: 'Save Lira.'
The leader seemed almost as preoccupied as Coneric with the death of Gornack, and Coneric used that to his advantage by rushing him and, before he could do anything, butting him to the side with his shield. From there it was only a few steps until he was right next to Lira, who was still standing in a trance. He held his shield over her in the direction the arrows came from, then faced around at the leader, Demacio, Noti, and even Cuss, who was hopping on one foot and spewing obscenities. Coneric knew that he could not beat them all, especially while keeping Lira safe, but he only hoped that he could fend them off long enough for her to finish her spell. If he could just keep her safe until she finished, they would survive, and could finish the quest. Telemnon and Gornack would be heroes for dying under the King's charge, and everything would be okay. If he could only keep her alive.
The leader smiled before motioning Demacio to advance. The fencer picked his sword from the ground and Noti followed him. They moved to both sides of Coneric before slowly closing in, and Coneric felt his hope leaving him, but just then Lira stirred next to him. His heart skipped a beat as she raised her head, looked around with yellow flashing eyes, then lifted her hand into the air. The leader saw her and his face lost its grin.
"Stop her!" He yelled in desperation.
Noti and Demacio charged in, but Coneric was able to turn Demacio's thrust with his sword just enough for it to clang against his breastplate, then brought it back around to catch Noti around the back of the leg and slicing up, hamstringing him. Demacio launched into a blinding series of slashes and stabs, but in what could only be a moment of truly inspired brilliance, Coneric managed to parry and turn all of them to the side. Only two stabs found his legs, and one caught him in the side. Still, even as the expert's sword left his side, Coneric heard Lira chant a few words in some unknown language before flexing her fingers and sending up a huge blue ball.
"No!" The leader screamed.
The ball looked like the one she had used to separate them, only much larger, and once it rose above them, it began to bulge in the same amount of places as there were men left. It grew more and more tumultuous, and Coneric could almost feel the fear emanating from all around him.
But then it broke apart.
It did not strike them down, or even break down into little pieces and boil their insides.
It just broke.
Coneric looked over at Lira, who stared back with terror in her eyes.
"They have a wizard." Her voice spoke of despair. "And he's better than me."She began to start another spell, but then shrank to the ground slowly, like she was being forced down by a weight on her back. Coneric looked down at her crumpled form, then up at where the sphere had been, then at the leader of the bandits and Cuss, who were moving toward him and smiling. Once again, he felt terror and despair begin to take him over. It would be so easy to just give up. So peaceful.
"Fuck this." He swung a wide swing at Demacio, who swatted it to the side and stabbed him again in the side, but he didn't care. He dashed passed the swordsman and at Cuss, who was in no way ready to defend himself. Coneric had to get out of this. He had to fulfill the mission. It was all he had. It was his prophesy. It was foretold that he was the one who would right the land, would save the king's daughter. That prophecy pushed him forward now. He must succeed.
He rammed his sword to the hilt through Cuss' abdomen, and looked the man in the eyes as he slid off of the blade and on to the ground.
"Bastard." Cuss gasped as his lifeblood pooled around him.
In another second, Coneric was on the leader. The bandit tried to defend himself, but Coneric's force and speed were too much for him. After a series of exchanges, his knife fell from a blow to it, and once it did Coneric grabbed his collar and spun him around, back in the direction of the unknown sniper. He faced the other bandits with rage in his eyes.
"Let us go, or I swear I'll fucking slit this pig's throat." The sword at the leader's throat told them he wasn't lying.
"Congratulations, now you've crossed the line." The leader didn't sound as scared as seeing Cuss should have made him.
"You shut the fuck up! Listen, unless you want your leader dead, you let us go. I swear I'll kill him."
The men looked at each other, unsure of what to do, but then their leader laughed.
"You'd be doing them a favor, killing me. None of them give a fuck about me. Hell, Fletch would probably kill me himself if he had the chance. Isn't that right, Fletch?"
From somewhere off in the distance, a voice rang out. "You damn right."
At the same time, Molloy picked Lira up from the ground and roughly held her in front of him.
"You kill our boss, we kill the girl."
"You'll just kill her anyway." Even as he said it, though, Coneric felt as if everything was slipping away from him. He had the sudden urge to just run. To turn away and abandon all of this. The village couldn't be that far away.
But then agony shot through his body, and his vision turned white. He found himself sitting on the ground, without knowing he had fallen. When he looked up, he saw that the heel of the leader's boot had a blade sticking out of it that was still covered in blood and semen. Seeing that made Coneric look down and notice that the leader had plunged said blade into his groin. Blood was still flowing out, and with that realization, suddenly the agony came again. A cry ripped from his lungs, and he rolled onto his side, holding his hands in between his legs. Tears rolled down his face, and he was sobbing when he saw the leader step over him with the knife before toeing him onto his back.
"P-please," Coneric was stuttering, and his voice choked with the pain, dirt, and tears. "Please let me—"
"Let you live?!" The bandit's voice was incredulous. "After all you've done? No, Ser Coneric, you seem to have made a very big mistake today."
"B-but the k-k—" The back of his throat was catching, it felt so tight.
"The quest?" The bandit smirked. "I guess that princess'll just have to save herself. He pulled Coneric's head back with his hand and placed his curved knife on his neck.
"No." Tears ran down his red cheeks, his lips were scrunched up in a puckered wail, and his breath came quickly in short bursts, at least until one long, slow breath came out, and none went back in. Coneric's world went black.
Braiden, the bandit leader, let Coneric's head slap back down onto the ground, and it would have rolled down the trail had not that last bit of skin still held it to its torso. He turned around and walked back to the group, and smiled to see Myst, Tick, and Cyst huddled over Cuss, who was howling a storm, and applying their magic.
"How's he doing?" Braiden felt an emotionally drained. He was glad it was all over.
"Oh he'll be" Myst began.
"Fine, but he'll need" Tick followed
"Allot of rest good thing he's the worst hurt of all of us." Cyst finished, all in one breath.
"Motherfuckingfuckerfuck!" Cuss screamed at no one in particular.
"A lucky thing, too." Fletch walked up to Braiden while cleaning his three arrows, his longbow strapped to his back.
"Yea, it's a good that they only tried to maim everyone besides Cuss. Fucking morons. We kill them all?"
Noti came up, dragging one leg behind him. "What? Who? No, She!" He pointed to the girl over Molloy's big shoulders.
Braiden kicked Cuss' broken arm and smiled as the man spewed forth the most colorful language anyone with a fifteen-or-so-word vocabulary could, and watched as Molloy and several others carried away the female wizard. She had just finished her defeated stupor, brought on by the three magicians' spell, and had begun screaming and kicking. He took an apple from his pouch, rubbed it on his bloody tunic, and took a bite from its taut green surface.
"Fucking morons."