Chapter 2: The Battle Joined
As Auron ran, zig-zagging amongst the trees, he could see that the light up ahead was growing more intense, indicating a break in the forest's cover. He slowed his pace to a walk and then stopped, tilting his head slightly to allow his unnaturally keen senses to tell him what he needed to know before entering the clearing up ahead.
The first thing that came to him was the smell... the unmistakable stench of fiends. At least two, maybe three, and something else... a human, sweat and adrenaline radiating off the individual in torrid waves.
Hmph, he perceived no difficulties... there was merely a battle being waged here. A half-smile touched the corners of his mouth as he felt his own adrenaline ratchet up a notch. One of the few pleasures he found in his current existence was the satisfying act of bidding farewell to fiends through his sword. The concentration it required often served to momentarily ease the torrent of sorrow and regret that were his ever-present companions (he sometimes wondered if their constant visitations would simply one day drive him mad, forever casting aside his carefully constructed mask of unaffected coolness). But enough of these thoughts. To the task at hand then.
Approaching the edge of the tree line he stopped again, and quickly took in the scene before him...
The forest clearing was large and relatively flat, surrounded on all sides by large conifers, covered only in low-lying grass. At the northeast end from his position were the sole occupants of this natural amphitheater.
Fiends, three in all. A Dinonix, the agile lizard-like creature that was too often able to dodge his blows (damn); A Buer (he really hated those flying cyclops) and a Bunyip, armored and slow (no problem there). Facing them was a lone human... clad from head to toe in loose-fitting black with only a small opening across the eyes, a style of garment he did not recognize (and he knew all of Spira's tribes). As he watched, the strangely garbed one launched an attack against the Dinonix. Arms whipping forward with amazing speed, two small circular objects directed at the fiend's head finding their mark with deadly accuracy. The Dinonix screamed a death throe and fell, vaporizing into nothingness. Whomever this person was, he was clearly skilled in the fighting arts.
Time to move. Breaking into a sprint, his massive sword held up and away from his shoulder, his robe billowing out behind him, Auron entered the fray. Quickly turning sideways to find his mark, he swept forward, bringing his blade down in a singular fluid arc and connecting with the Bunyip's armored hide, directly between it's shoulders. The Bunyip made no sound at all, but merely collapsed to fade away. The stranger registered no acknowledgement of his presence (further evidence of skill, for to do so would be a tactical mistake), turning to face the remaining fiend. Before the man in black could strike, the Buer folded it's bat-like wings across it's large red eye and spewed a foul-smelling vapor directly into the man's face. He staggered back, shaking his head to no avail, afflicted with confusion. Before the Buer could strike again, Auron brought his sword to bear once more, ending the fiend's story.
Auron lowered his sword and turned to face his strange comrade. The man was clearly still confused, turning slowly in a circle, head whipping from side to side, unable to shake off the effects of the fiend's attack. Auron reached into his robe, feeling for a remedy. Before he could bring his arm out with the needed cure, the afflicted fighter suddenly turned towards him and in a flash of movement dropped low and swept his leg in an arc, catching Auron just above the ankles, taking him off his feet and backwards. The guardian came to earth with bone-jarring impact, air escaping his lungs in a short, hard sound as his back hit the ground.
This little diversion was no longer amusing. In one fluid motion, Auron rolled to his left and back on his feet, bringing the hilt of his sword forward, striking the confused man squarely in the forehead. The stranger wobbled momentarily, then sank to the ground in a heap, barely conscious. Auron, with gentler intent, rolled the man onto his back, placed his heavy boot against the man's windpipe to discourage further outbursts, and applied the remedy.
Auron looked down over the top of his glasses, into eyes a startling shade of palest gray, and not unlike his own, unnerving in their intensity.
The stranger spoke then, low and insistent... "Would you mind terribly removing your boot? I'm having a hard time breathing here."
No doubt a certain boy from Zanarkand with hair the color of spun gold would have been pleased at the look of unabashed surprise on the guardians face. The voice, a silky contralto, was unmistakably female.
As Auron ran, zig-zagging amongst the trees, he could see that the light up ahead was growing more intense, indicating a break in the forest's cover. He slowed his pace to a walk and then stopped, tilting his head slightly to allow his unnaturally keen senses to tell him what he needed to know before entering the clearing up ahead.
The first thing that came to him was the smell... the unmistakable stench of fiends. At least two, maybe three, and something else... a human, sweat and adrenaline radiating off the individual in torrid waves.
Hmph, he perceived no difficulties... there was merely a battle being waged here. A half-smile touched the corners of his mouth as he felt his own adrenaline ratchet up a notch. One of the few pleasures he found in his current existence was the satisfying act of bidding farewell to fiends through his sword. The concentration it required often served to momentarily ease the torrent of sorrow and regret that were his ever-present companions (he sometimes wondered if their constant visitations would simply one day drive him mad, forever casting aside his carefully constructed mask of unaffected coolness). But enough of these thoughts. To the task at hand then.
Approaching the edge of the tree line he stopped again, and quickly took in the scene before him...
The forest clearing was large and relatively flat, surrounded on all sides by large conifers, covered only in low-lying grass. At the northeast end from his position were the sole occupants of this natural amphitheater.
Fiends, three in all. A Dinonix, the agile lizard-like creature that was too often able to dodge his blows (damn); A Buer (he really hated those flying cyclops) and a Bunyip, armored and slow (no problem there). Facing them was a lone human... clad from head to toe in loose-fitting black with only a small opening across the eyes, a style of garment he did not recognize (and he knew all of Spira's tribes). As he watched, the strangely garbed one launched an attack against the Dinonix. Arms whipping forward with amazing speed, two small circular objects directed at the fiend's head finding their mark with deadly accuracy. The Dinonix screamed a death throe and fell, vaporizing into nothingness. Whomever this person was, he was clearly skilled in the fighting arts.
Time to move. Breaking into a sprint, his massive sword held up and away from his shoulder, his robe billowing out behind him, Auron entered the fray. Quickly turning sideways to find his mark, he swept forward, bringing his blade down in a singular fluid arc and connecting with the Bunyip's armored hide, directly between it's shoulders. The Bunyip made no sound at all, but merely collapsed to fade away. The stranger registered no acknowledgement of his presence (further evidence of skill, for to do so would be a tactical mistake), turning to face the remaining fiend. Before the man in black could strike, the Buer folded it's bat-like wings across it's large red eye and spewed a foul-smelling vapor directly into the man's face. He staggered back, shaking his head to no avail, afflicted with confusion. Before the Buer could strike again, Auron brought his sword to bear once more, ending the fiend's story.
Auron lowered his sword and turned to face his strange comrade. The man was clearly still confused, turning slowly in a circle, head whipping from side to side, unable to shake off the effects of the fiend's attack. Auron reached into his robe, feeling for a remedy. Before he could bring his arm out with the needed cure, the afflicted fighter suddenly turned towards him and in a flash of movement dropped low and swept his leg in an arc, catching Auron just above the ankles, taking him off his feet and backwards. The guardian came to earth with bone-jarring impact, air escaping his lungs in a short, hard sound as his back hit the ground.
This little diversion was no longer amusing. In one fluid motion, Auron rolled to his left and back on his feet, bringing the hilt of his sword forward, striking the confused man squarely in the forehead. The stranger wobbled momentarily, then sank to the ground in a heap, barely conscious. Auron, with gentler intent, rolled the man onto his back, placed his heavy boot against the man's windpipe to discourage further outbursts, and applied the remedy.
Auron looked down over the top of his glasses, into eyes a startling shade of palest gray, and not unlike his own, unnerving in their intensity.
The stranger spoke then, low and insistent... "Would you mind terribly removing your boot? I'm having a hard time breathing here."
No doubt a certain boy from Zanarkand with hair the color of spun gold would have been pleased at the look of unabashed surprise on the guardians face. The voice, a silky contralto, was unmistakably female.