Lone Voice
(4:00 PM)
Shen shielded his eyes as he slowly stepped outside into the glaring sunlight. Averting his gaze from the sun looming above in the distance, the warrior found himself staring down at the katana on his belt. It was said that a samurai's soul, his very essence of honour, was embodied through his chosen weapon. While he had wielded the blade for years with the utmost respect for its power, he felt… hollow here on this day.
In a single afternoon, his katana had fallen into the hands of an honourless foe not once, but twice. Such failures spoke ill of his worthiness to carry it.
He watched as Cordas' men dragged the criminals to the wagon. If they were back in Kara-Tur, Shen would have ordered that they be released and each given a weapon in turn, that they would be granted the dignity to die standing in single combat.
But no, he thought, this culture has not yet reached that level of civility. For now, I must endure their uncouth customs if I am to succeed in my greater mission.
Shen watched as the last prisoner was forced into the covered wagon. It was the male elf that had the look of a deceiver; he was well dressed and proudly groomed, yet he moved and behaved with the countenance of a commoner. Like a person who smiles to cover up his true nature.
Of course, the same could be said of Cordas' follower, the one in the brimmed hat and silk fineries. That finely garbed man was currently calling out to Shen, waving the warrior over to the side of the wagon. As Shen moved closer, the man pointed to the opening at the rear of the cart, motioning for the Kara-Turian to get inside.
Shen peeked inside and hesitated for a moment, feeling the glares of the four prisoners within. Silk-man gave the warrior a shove on the back and babbled a few words in his incomprehensible language. Shen glared back at the man, but acceded. Straining against the stiffness in his knee, the samurai slowly climbed into the wagon, keeping a hand on his katana hilt at all times. After the warrior passed through the opening, Silk-man tugged on a curtain attached to the roof, shrouding the wagon interior from sight.
(4:07)
As the wagon began to move, the samurai took a seat near the exit of the cart, beside the red-haired female elf. Of the four criminals, she had the least dangerous appearance, and he was confident that he could handle her if she attempted to harm him.
The woman said something to him, her words almost completely muffled through the gag, but Shen could do nothing but shake his head at her. The yellow robes she wore marked her as a spellcaster of some kind, and Shen wasn't foolish enough to remove the gag, even if he could somehow understand her. She was surely a heretic of some sort.
He recognized her from earlier in the day, back when Archer and the rest of Cordas' men went with her inside the heretics' tower in the northern section of the city. While it was puzzling that such a vile group of cultists would be permitted to operate so plainly in the city, Shen decided to pay it no mind. Just another example of the lax attitudes in the western realms, to let such religious cults exist.
Red-hair turned to the other elf, Deceiver, and started to mumble more angry words. Deceiver, in turn, shrugged his shoulders and gave some kind of glib reply out of the corner of his mouth. This apparently was enough to cause Red-hair to raise her voice to a shout.
Whatever they were saying, it was quickly turning into a heated argument, and in a few minutes the two elves were yapping back and forth, straining Shen's patience. The Kara-Turian felt no love for the slack, common tongue used in these western realms. It was completely lacking in tonal precision and refinement, like the braying of mules.
"Be silent!" Shen ordered, drawing his katana partway to make his message clear. Although they couldn't understand his words, the warrior took some comfort in the fact that certain gestures and body language were universal.
The samurai looked over at the older prisoner, the one dressed in black. Although he and Shen had shared only a brief melee, he'd shown himself to be completely without morals. Rather than stand and fight like a true warrior, he fled and resorted to trickery. Instead of yielding honestly, he lulled the Kara-Turian close for a shameful blow to the knee. Barbaric.
Fortunately, Silk-man and Cordas' followers were able to provide some healing to the wound. His knee would feel quite stiff for the next few days, but it was better than having a limp.
Shen frowned, pushing the thought from his mind. No, it was better to accept the shame of his defeat for now, and survive for a short while longer. After he finished this business with Cordas, he could carry on with his own quest. Only then, after he fulfilled his higher duty, would he decide on whether or not his life had fallen far enough into dishonour to warrant the final act…
(4:20)
Several minutes later, the wagon slowed to a stop and Shen could hear several voices conversing outside. He drew the curtain aside partway and looked out. They were back at Cordas' second base, a drab, grey building situated in the wealthier northern district of the city. More specifically, the wagon was stopped in the middle of the alleyway that ran behind the base. The Kara-Turian carefully stood and moved the curtain aside completely, preparing to carefully step down.
Someone suddenly tackled him from the behind, bowling the samurai forward and making him fall forward, slamming his knee directly against the hard earth. Screaming out of both pain and frustration, Shen twisted and instinctively drove his elbow back, striking his attacker in the head.
"Disease upon your hearth and household!" cursed the easterner. He struggled to roll over under the weight of his opponent.
Some shouting erupted from around them, and Shen looked up to see a band of Cordas' men, approaching from the front of the wagon with crossbows armed and ready. Silk-man barked something, and the attacker immediately let go of Shen and receded.
Gripping his knee, the samurai struggled as he climbed to his feet. He glowered at the man who tackled him, and was not surprised to see that it was Black-cloak who had the gall to ambush someone from behind.
Shouting more unintelligible words, Silk-man made a series of gestures at the prisoners, and the rest of Cordas' followers closed in on the criminals, herding them a short distance down the alley toward a door in the side of the grey stone building.
Black-cloak hissed something in Shen's face as he passed, obviously making some obscene threat. The warrior remained impassive as the criminals were led inside one by one; even if Shen's honour was tarnished by his past failures, the samurai knew that he was still of a greater circle than these barbarians.
"Shen."
The warrior looked up as Archer was pushed past. Making eye contact for only a moment, Archer tilted his head to the side, making obvious the green-tinged mark on the nape of his neck. As Archer was taken inside, Shen glanced down at the similar marking that was engraved on his own shoulder.
That complicated things. Why would Cordas bestow the same mark of prestige upon the Archer, only to later tell the samurai to kill him? Or perhaps there was more to the green symbol than Shen was led to believe…
Silk-man struck the warrior on the arm and shouted a few words in Shen's face, shaking the man from his reverie. Although Shen still couldn't understand him, there was one word that came through clearly: "Cordas."
Giving a curt bow, Shen motioned for Silk-man to lead on.
(4:31)
As he passed through the bare stone hallways, Shen couldn't help but wonder at the difference between the interiors of this building and Cordas' main estate. Strange how the base in the southern district was so lavishly furnished even though it stood against the backdrop of what was surely one of the poorest regions of the city.
This base, in contrast, was in the middle of an opulent neighbourhood, but had such sparse decoration that it would impress even the humblest of the Grey Owl monks back home. Cordas was surely a man of contradictions, which led Shen to wonder if the lord had some other twist in mind for the prisoners they'd brought in just now.
Silk-man showed the samurai up to Cordas' office, then half-heartedly waved his arm at the door, gibbered something under his breath, and started to walk away. Shen's eyes followed the man as he retreated from sight. While it was clear that Silk-man was one of the higher-ranking members of Cordas' court, he was completely absent in proper courtesy and respect. In the more civilized eastern realms, such lack of protocol to a superior was a punishable crime.
Something about the man rang false to Shen. In a way, he was like Deceiver, brazenly running amok in the guise of a station to which he was unworthy.
The warrior sniffed indignantly and reached for the door handle. He was above these underlings, and it served no end to dwell on them in his thoughts. Passing inside, Shen closed the door behind him and bowed low to Cordas. He waited patiently as the lord turned away from the window and addressed the warrior's presence.
"I am told that you failed to slay the archer, as I ordered," Cordas began, speaking in Shen's Kara-Turian dialect.
Shen lowered his head. "The shame weighs upon my soul, lord, and I accept responsibility for my failure."
"Disappointing," growled the lord, "First you fail to protect my wizard Horance, then you do not even participate in the removal of the portal key from the heretics' tower…"
Shen recalled that he had been ordered to remain outside by the Sergeant, but he knew that making excuses was a poor man's way of evading responsibility and duty, so the Kara-Turian remained silent.
"… and now you cannot even fulfill a single, direct command to end the archer's life!" Cordas fingered the pale unicorn pendant around his neck. "He is an honourless dog, Shen. How much disgrace are you willing to endure on this matter?"
"I have tarnished my name, lord, but it is better that I endure such dishonour for now, than to sit and do nothing while my sister is still missing."
Cordas frowned. "Yes, of course, your sister. As I made abundantly clear, I will help you find her only after you have paid proper fealty to me through service."
"I have not forgotten, and I thank you for your hospitality." Shen met Cordas' eyes. "But there is one thing I do not understand, lord." He raised his arm and pointed to the green symbol etched into his shoulder. "The mark that you bestowed upon me…"
"The binding mark will be removed and healed after we are concluded." The lord reached into a pocket and held up a vial of fluid. "You are a stranger to these lands, so you do not understand its importance. In this part of the world, it's an honour to receive such a prestigious blessing. Only the strongest and noblest of warriors may achieve and endure that enchanted brand. It signifies your purity and nobility of spirit."
Shen did not bring up the fact that it also created a painful burning on his skin. Doing so might count as an insult to the lord, or a sign of unworthiness. Were it not for the medicinal salve the warrior had brought from Kara-Tur, it might still hurt or even impede his bladework. At least now the pain was dulled, if only slightly.
He nodded along, gracious for Cordas' honesty. "Yes, but I noticed that Archer had the mark as well… on the back of his neck for some reason."
Cordas' eye twitched slightly. "He is a betrayer, and has since fallen from grace. He would murder you without a thought, without even issuing a proper challenge to battle."
Yet he defended my life from a shameful death at the hands of Black-cloak, Shen thought to himself, and the mark on Archer's neck looked no older than my own…
"I'm surprised they were able to recover the ice sphere. The trap that Horance left upon the orb was supposed to kill anyone who managed to open the vault door." The elderly man shrugged and turned back to the window, staring out at the white heretics' tower. "I may have further use of the artifact as a tool against Pryus. In any case, it served well in slaughtering the clerics and knights of Tyr."
Shen blinked and furrowed his brow. Knights of Tyr? While Shen did not bow to any of the Faerunian deities, he knew that 'paladins' were considered the hallmark of honourable warriors in the west… "I thought you said we were killing heretics."
For a long moment, Cordas did not reply. He slowly faced the warrior. "I… misspoke. We are, or course, doing naught but honourable deeds."
Cordas removed a device from his pocket and stared down at it for a moment. "It is time for me to leave. The Sigil must be recovered from the heretics' tower, and I plan to see this through personally. As for you," he said, putting the timepiece away, "There is one last duty that is required: You must execute all the prisoners that were recovered from my estate."
"Of course, lord." Shen bowed again. "But I will require additional weapons."
"Why? Use your katana!"
The samurai shook his head. "Not for me. For them. It is dishonourable to kill someone unarmed and outside of the battlefield or place of judgement, especially a woman." That wasn't completely true, but the warrior wanted to afford at least some courtesy to Archer and the female elf. He didn't particularly care about Deceiver or Black-cloak.
Cordas walked up to Shen and leaned close, forcing the warrior to take a step back. "Don't you dare put a weapon in their hands. I have enough things to worry about without you trying to arm my prisoners. If you do not follow my orders immediately, you'll never find your sister. I'm the only person for miles who can even speak your language. You don't want to become an outsider, alone and without hope."
Swallowing his pride, the warrior simply inclined his head. This wasn't right. Cordas was speaking in a far harsher tone than when they first met.
"The prisoners are currently in the eastern rooms, so go and finish your duty. When I return, there will be little time to waste, so be quick and thorough." With that, Cordas waved his hand, dismissing the Kara-Turian from his presence.
Giving a final bow, Shen exited the room and slowly made his way toward the prisoners' cells. Resting a hand upon the hilt of his katana, the warrior let out a breath and mentally readied himself for the task he was fated to perform.
(4:40)
As he paced through the corridor, Shen couldn't rid himself of the doubtful feeling that gnawed away at his soul. Back home in Kara-Tur, his master had issued a single, simple command to the young warrior: "Find your sister, no matter where the journey may take you."
That journey ended up taking him to the other side of the continent over a period of a whole year thus far. He might even have already her by now, had he not led his assigned interpreter to their death. How fortunate he was to have encountered Lord Cordas and Horance; it was rare to meet one person who spoke the same dialect in these lands, let alone two.
But now that feeling of doubt was back, and there was no avoiding the sense that there was something… inconsistent about all the tasks that Cordas had set forth for him since the beginning of the day.
He stepped into the open room at the end of the hall, drawing his blade. Silk-man stood near the middle of the room with two of Cordas' other followers. All three rained blows down on Archer and Black-cloak while the prisoners sat helplessly bound to a pair of plain wooden chairs. The two elves were similarly secured off to the side of the room, but they appeared untouched.
Most unsettling was that Cordas' men all wore wicked grins on their faces. It disgusted the Kara-Turian to see that someone could receive such pleasure by beating an unarmed man, even if it was a criminal. It was debasing to allow oneself to regress to such a level of barbarism.
And yet, it wasn't an isolated occurrence, either. Shen had seen this behaviour too many times on this day; Horance, the Sergeant, Silk-man, and almost every one of Cordas' followers displayed actions more befitting of lowly bandits than cultured men.
All except one. And that man was currently being beaten bloody in a chair at the middle of the chamber. Was Archer truly a criminal among civilized men? Or could it be the exact opposite?
As the samurai stepped closer, Silk-man finally took notice. He motioned for his men to stop their assault on the prisoners, and gestured Shen to come closer. As usual, the westerner began warbling on incessantly, as if he believed the samurai would somehow understand him if he tried speaking in a louder voice.
They stepped aside, affording the warrior a clear space from which to strike at the first prisoner, Archer. Shen held his katana firmly in his hand and glanced down at the steel blade.
I already have misgivings about this scenario, he thought, If I strike this man down, will I further enshroud myself in dishonour?
The light glinted off the edge of his katana. There was no greater disrespect than to coat one's blade in the blood of a person undeserving of death. To do so was the worst insult; to his soul, to his family name, to his liege back home.
No, he had to have certainty before carrying through. If Cordas and his court were honourable men, they would understand this and accede. Shen lowered his weapon and turned to Silk-man, shaking his head. "Apologies, sir, but I can only perform this execution if it can be proven that this man is –"
An infuriated look crossed Silk-man's face and he thrust a finger in Archer's direction. The man snapped off a string of angry words, and Shen noticed that the two henchman had dropped their hands to their weapons.
Shen did not reply and merely shook his head once more. It was then that Silk-man did the unthinkable; he lunged forward and tried to snatch away Shen's katana. The warrior pulled back and responded by striking Silk-man across the face with a backhand, knocking the man to the floor. Perhaps it was a mistake to place his trust in Cordas after all… "Do not try that again," Shen warned, "If you have any sense of courtesy, then you shall show proper –"
Silk-man's associates immediately unsheathed their own swords and stepped forward, standing between the Kara-turian and Silk-man. Shen merely bowed his head to the pair and took a step closer, holding his sword ready. Neither opponent appeared particularly experienced in swordplay. The one on the right was gripping his weapon in both hands, like it was too heavy to wield naturally, whereas the other on the left held his weapon at an outward angle, leaving his side wide open for attack.
However, one thing that kept the Kara-turian from making the first strike was the positioning of the pair; neither seemed willing to move beyond arm's length from his partner. So that was it, Shen realized, they were used to fighting in tandem.
The warrior's suspicion was confirmed as both enemies moved simultaneously. The left enemy swung his weapon across, forcing Shen to deflect the blow. As the enemy pulled back, his partner immediately stepped in and levelled his own weapon in a defensive pose, effectively preventing Shen from launching a counterattack against the offensive fighter.
That explained it; what Attacker and Defender lacked in raw experience, they made up for with teamwork. Shen immediately changed his strategy and held his blade wide to leave his side exposed.
Immediately, attacker made his move and slashed across again, this time aiming for Shen's neck. The samurai swung his blade back, blocking the strike, and pushed against his opponent, forcing him to fall back again. Defender then moved in to protect his partner against the inevitable counter.
This time, however, Shen thrust his blade out to the side, switching his target to Defender. The abrupt movements caught Defender slightly off guard, and he began to pull his blade in closer to protect himself. Shen struck with too much force, however, and while Defender parried the blow, he also stumbled backward, almost falling as he accidentally bumped against Silk-man.
Shen reacted instantly, turning and swinging diagonally, cutting into Attacker's now undefended left side. The man screamed and clutched his bleeding wound, collapsing to the ground as Shen pulled his weapon back.
Struggling against the stiffness in his bad knee, Shen moved closer to Archer as Defender stood back, apparently hesitant to fight alone against the samurai. Silk-man started shouting at the henchman, but obviously neither man was willing to place himself at risk.
Keeping his eyes on the remaining opponents, Shen slashed the ropes binding Archer to the chair. "Free your allies," he said, pointing to the three other prisoners. "I shall deal with the opposition."
The samurai slowly advanced on Silk-man and Defender, weapon held high. Silk-man suddenly shoved his own henchman in the back, knocking the man to the ground. Defender's sword clattered to the floor as he fell, and Silk-man used the distraction to flee out the door like a fearful mutt.
Cowardice and cruelty, Shen thought as he moved forward and kicked Defender's sword away. Now I can see where the true criminals lie in this city…
Before he could take three steps in pursuit of Silk-man, Shen felt a hard boot strike him in the back of the leg. As he collapsed forward, the warrior felt his katana being wrenched from his grasp.
Looking back, Shen saw that Black-cloak was now hovering above Kara-turian as the katana lay harmlessly on the floor. More unsettling was the fact that Black-cloak had somehow produced a thin dagger, and was now holding it ready in his left hand.
The older man's hollow, dead eyes bored into Shen, and for a moment the warrior feared that he might have made a terrible mistake by supporting these prisoners. Before Black-cloak could stab forward, a hand caught the man on the shoulder.
Archer held the killer back and said a few words to the man, and received a cold stare in return. Slowly, reluctantly, the killer lowered his arm and stepped away from the Kara-turian, spitting what must have been a venomous curse in Shen's direction. Black-cloak turned his attention to Defender, seizing the man by the shirt and forcing him toward one of the chairs.
Helping Shen to his feet, Archer continued to speak in his enigmatic language. Looking the Kara-turian in the eye, Archer held out Shen's katana and gave a single nod.
Taking the blade in his hands again, the warrior returned the gesture and gave a short bow. "I believe that I may have wronged you, archer, and for that I offer my apology." He pointed to the door and motioned in the direction of the exit.
"I will show you four the way out, then you must continue on your own." It was clear to Shen that Cordas would not be helping him find his sister after all. While it pained the warrior, he knew that he would have to wander the city in search of someone else that could understand his language.
Shen stood by the door and monitored the hallway as Archer set loose the elves. In minutes, the warrior was leading the party through the building's twisting, near-identical stone corridors.
It felt strange to the Kara-turian, having such a sudden turnabout in loyalties, but he knew that this quartet, though culturally barbaric and lacking in proper graces, did not deserve execution by his blade. Not when Cordas' men seemed to be the very picture of malice and dishonour.
(4:49)
When the group approached a T-branch in the hall, Shen came to a halt as Silk-man stepped into view on the far end of the opposite corridor. This time he was backed by five other armed henchmen, and held in his hands the blue, spherical artifact they retrieved from Cordas' main estate.
Archer stepped forward and shouted something at Silk-man, rage evident in his voice. Silk-man simply smirked and made a snapping gesture, prompting his men to advance down the hallway toward the party.
Shen grabbed Archer and pulled the westerner back. The prisoners couldn't stand against Cordas' men without proper armaments. Three were empty-handed, and Black-cloak's dagger certainly wasn't enough to protect the party.
"You all must find your own way out. It falls upon me to remedy the dishonour that I have wrought upon both myself and your city." He raised his weapon and pointed down the side-corridor toward the exit. "I will guard your retreat. Duty demands no less."
Archer stared blankly at the Kara-turian for a moment, then babbled a question of some sort.
"Leave!" Shen shouted.
Seizing Archer by the arm, Black-cloak shoved the man in the direction that Shen had motioned. The elves followed immediately, and Red-hair paused for a moment to smile and offer a quick nod to the samurai. Turning back to face the oncoming henchman, Shen quickly nodded to his opponents and steeled his grip. Six men against one. Now this was the way for a warrior to test himself.
Although the corridor was wide enough for four of the men to attack at the same time, Shen had the space advantage; room to dodge, room to strike. The warrior charged ahead and swung upward, blocking two of the enemies' swords with his own.
Rather than continuing to hold his blade against them, the warrior let his momentum continue to carry him forward and he rammed his left shoulder squarely into the upper chest of the nearest foe. As the man fell back, crashing into one of his allies, Shen swung his sword out wide and abruptly sliced inward, raking the weapon across the torsos of the two henchmen to his right. The one that caught the brunt of the blow collapsed immediately, dropping his sword to hold his guts in, while the other managed to remain standing, but had to fall back against the wall for support.
A battle cry drew Shen's attention to his left, and he turned just as an explosion of pain tore through his body. A henchman had managed to thrust his sword into Shen's left side, and the Kara-turian responded by punching the man in the throat with his free hand.
The sudden movement knocked the opponent away, but also aggravated the fresh wound, causing more blood to seep out. Shen knew he was fortunate that the man had been standing beside the wall; if the enemy had room to make a full swing rather than a short thrust, it would have killed the Kara-turian outright.
Shen's blade stopped another of the opponent's attacks, sending a wave of shock running down his arm. Retreating a few steps, Shen swung his katana and slashed the man across the midsection. That made two foes down and one wounded, leaning against the opposite wall.
The remaining pair of enemies stepped cautiously, staying away from the sides of the hall so they could swing their blades freely. Shen's left hand pressed against his side, trying to keep the injury from bleeding out of control. His sword arm felt fine at the moment, but it would certainly feel sore tomorrow. Assuming he even survived that long.
Angling his katana high, Shen stood his ground and watched the pair carefully step over their fallen comrades. The Kara-turian suddenly began screaming at the top of his lungs and brazenly blasted toward the pair. The henchmen immediately stopped moving forward and angled their own blades, ready to receive his attack.
Launching a succession of quick slashes, Shen put as much strength as he could muster into his blows, keeping his enemies on the defensive. As he predicted, one of the foes was forced to take another step back to maintain his balance, but instead stepped on one of the fallen bodies. The man cried out in surprise and stumbled, allowing Shen to make a quick stab to the side, impaling the man through the abdomen.
The last uninjured opponent instantly took advantage of the Kara-turian's exposure and slashed down toward Shen's arm. The samurai tried to twist away, but still felt the edge of the enemy's blade tearing a wide gash across the length of his sword arm. Shen clenched his teeth and fell away, almost dropping his sword as he moved. While he was fortunate that it didn't cut to the bone, it was deep enough to send a river of blood streaming down his arm and off his elbow.
Shen blinked his eyes and fought to stay mentally focused. The warrior held his blade defensively and shifted his weight to his good knee. The enemy began to circle around the Kara-turian, grinning as he threw some incomprehensible threats or taunts at the samurai. Shen took a tentative step forward, an action that prompted the henchman to stop moving and maintain a ready posture.
The samurai noticed that they were now in a line; still leaning on the wall directly behind the uninjured enemy was the henchman that Shen had wounded, but not killed, just moments ago. Watching the two remaining opponents, Shen saw that the wounded man was still gripping his sword, holding it high as a last means of defense no doubt. At least their dedication to battle was admirable, if nothing else.
Staring at the uninjured foe's blade, Shen centred himself, observing the enemy's sword with unwavering focus. He launched forward and let the uninjured enemy swing his blade across. Pausing for a split second, the warrior waited for the right moment and then struck out to intercept the strike. His katana made contact immediately, but there was no clash of blades.
Instead, there was only the sound of the enemy's screams as he clutched at his wrist. An instant later, the foe's severed hand and sword clattered to the floor, accompanied by a short spray of blood.
Still clutching his bleeding stump, the enemy was too far-gone in his pain to react as Shen leaned and planted a sideways kick in his midsection. The opponent fell backward and landed against the already wounded henchman by the wall, causing both men to hit the ground.
Shen took a moment to wipe the red stain from his katana, then surveyed his fallen enemies and offered a single, silent bow of respect. The Kara-turian suddenly felt a heavy blow in the back of the knee, and Shen's leg caved in, knocking him down to a kneeling position.
Silk-man hissed something unintelligible as the warrior turned to face him. The follower of Cordas held the cold blue sphere high in his hands, apparently threatening to drop it if Shen tried to stand. Squeezing the handle of his katana, Shen stared up at his last foe.
It was obvious that he wouldn't be able to stand and slay the man before the fiend dropped the sphere, nor would Shen be fast enough to run away and evade the ice blast. He'd seen the magic of the artifact in the prior days, while speaking with Horance. It would be a near-instant effect, and Shen would barely have enough time to hold his breath, let alone escape down the hall.
If one must die, die honourably, Shen said in his mind. He would never submit to a foe that did not issue a proper challenge with a blade.
Without another thought, Shen swung his blade across in a flash, using all the remaining vigour in his arm to slash Silk-man across the legs, just below the kneecaps. Too slow to react, Silk-man's smug expression contorted into a grimace as he howled in pain and fell forward, letting the sphere roll from his grasp.
The Kara-turian released his katana and dived forward, arms outstretched as soon as Silk-man began to topple. Striking the ground, Shen scraped his chin along the floor and felt the frigid artifact land softly atop his forearms. The warrior grit his teeth as the cold stung his arms, freezing much of the bloodied sleeve on his sword arm. He had no idea how Silk-man was able to touch the sphere without problem, but that thought was pushed aside. Shen was just relieved that the sphere didn't land hard enough to release its blast.
Silk-man fell atop the samurai's back, screaming in agony. Still holding the sphere, Shen shifted his shoulders and body, pushing the enemy off. The foe made a pathetic attempt to claw at Shen, howling so loud that the samurai couldn't tell if he was even forming clear words or not.
Shen managed to climb to his feet and left the man sprawled on the floor, sparing no quarter of mercy for the dishonourable dog's life. Wincing against the cold, the Kara-turian carefully moved the ice sphere to the crook of his left arm and felt the aura sting at his side as he glanced up and down the hall. While he had won the battle, the war had yet to conclude. Cordas was still out there.
(4:58)
With a few quick, clean strokes of his katana, Shen finished off those enemies that were still breathing, then put his weapon away and stepped down the hall toward the exit. As the pulse of battle wore off, Shen could feel the constant pain coming from his untreated wounds.
The Kara-turian held his forehead as the walls seemed to wobble. How much blood had he lost? His sword arm was drenched with red, as was the left side of his tunic. Staggering slightly, Shen managed to find his way to the door and practically fell through the exit to the alleyway outside.
In the dim lighting, the samurai managed to set the ice sphere down on the dirt before collapsing to his hands and knees. Why did he carry the sphere with him? Perhaps it was simply delirium from the blood loss.
The world began to blur as Shen noticed four figures rushing toward him from the end of the alley, but he paid them no mind. Instead, his eyes focused on the distance behind them, and the Kara-turian saw the white tower, the one that Cordas was traveling to for the final phase of his plan.
Shen's arms gave out, and he hit the dirt as the four figures crowded around him. With his remaining strength, he struggled to point a finger at the white spire. If he was to perish, then it fell on these strangers to halt Cordas' crimes.
"Cordas," Shen whispered as his head went down, "Seek him out there, at the tower… Cordas…"
Just before consciousness slipped away, Shen couldn't help but wonder if his attempt to rectify Cordas' crimes would restore even a small part of his honour. It was a comforting thought, at least.
The samurai released his breath and passed out. Perhaps the quest was not over just yet.
(5:00 PM)