SWNOVELS Chapter † 30 -fight †
Facing the daemon quietly, Galen gasps for air. Throat burning with each breath he takes, lungs aching, stabbing pains flaring up his sides, he waits.
Gashes and gaping wounds lacerate the skin of the beast, but it shows no sign of weakening or relenting in its attack.
Quietly, fervently praying inside his mind, Galen prepares to engage once again as the beast lumbers closer, rises up unto its hind legs and roars menacingly at him. Green spittle flies from its beak with the rush of air. Stringy tendrils of saliva hang from the lipless mouth, drips to the ground in fat gobbets, sizzling as it makes contact with the cool sand.
Wincing slightly, Galen looks down at his leg, a shallow gash along the back of his calve burning intensely. A few drops of saliva had splattered over his forearm and the acidic fluid had blistered the skin immediately.
‘Help me.’
He voices softly to himself, crouching low as the beast moves closer and closer, head swinging side to side as it sizes up the threat Galen poses to it.
The beast snaps its head forwards. Jumping a step back Galen swings his sword wide, but the blade swishes harmlessly past the beasts head, the momentum nearly pulling Galen into the path of the beast’s beak as it jerks it head in the other
direction, jaws snapping violently at Galen’s extended arm.
Cursing loudly, Galen springs to the side, rolls nimbly across the ground and jumps up quickly, swinging his blade around to ward of any attack.
White eyes glinting, the beast regards Galen, a glimmer of intelligence flickering in the blank orbs.
It knows this dance.
The dance of impending death.
The dance of the bloody feast.
A thin three pronged tongue flicks through the air, tasting, searching. Rumbling erupts deep in the chest of the daemon, and it sidles closer to Galen, sensing the weakness of the human standing so close to it. Anger, at the wounds and cuts criss-crossing its skin, flares briefly in its minute brain.
And it knows only one thing.
It must feed.
Throwing its head back it roars madly, the call ululating unheard throughout the town. The beast’s long neck glistens tantalizingly as sunlight, shining across the roof, catches it and illuminates the wet skin.
Standing, staring transfixed at the dazzling display, Galen feels a stirring in his blood. The odd sensation creeps up his spine and tingles at the base of his skull, brilliant flashes of light sparking behind his eyes.
Gripping his head in his hand Galen drops to his knees, his
sword clattering loudly on the ground next to him.
Hearing the noise the beast drops down to all fours, and seeing its foe crumpled up in front of it, it begins to walk forwards.
The flashes blinds Galen and he gasps for air as his body clenches and releases tension, muscles pulling tight in spasm, releasing as suddenly as they began.
The flashes recede and Galen breathes easier, rolls his shoulders and neck and then pushes himself up from the ground, hands clenched into fists at his side.
Lumbering closer the beast notices the change, its eyes registering a flare of power unseen to the human eyes.
It stops.
Fear creeps into its small mind and it begins to retreat. Slowly at first but faster as the power standing where the human was, grows in intensity.
Standing perfectly still, head hanging loosely down to his chest, Galen breathes easier.
Indigo eyes flare open.
Galen lifts his head and stares piercingly at the daemon hastily trying to get away.
‘Di actorei jo duceide nach. Wie ist dan dai fooi velee piom!’
The rush of foreign words flow easily from Galen’s lips, and he raises his right hand as he speaks.
Yelping in blind fear the daemon turns awkwardly, slipping on the loose gravel in its haste to get away.
Closing his eyes, Galen recites the words again, lifting his left hand as he speaks.
‘Arcto!’
As he yells loudly, a blinding flash of pure indigo light flares from his fingertips, engulfing the daemon as it tries to scramble out of the flaring blazes path.
Whoosh!
As suddenly as it has flared up it disappears, a loud sucking noise tugging at Galen’s ears.
Whoooof!
A dome of purple explode from the place the daemon had stood, the shockwave whooshing past Galen, rattling the doors and shutters covering the windows of the inn.
Glancing around him, Galen breathes relaxedly, his eyes returning to their natural colour with each deep breath. Heart pounding in his ears he straightens, happiness bubbling deep inside him at his new found powers. Silence hangs thickly in the yard.
Galen looks to the wall running along the end of the yard.
‘They got away. Good.’
He whispers to himself, as he bends over and picks his sword from the ground and wipes it clean on his tunic before slamming it back into the scabbard.
A loud scream rips through the air, sending shivers down Galen’s spine, gooseflesh prickling across his coppery arms.
Jerking around, startled from his silent reverie, he turns and sprints towards the back wall, heart hammering fearfully in his throat, horrific images flashing through his mind.
Standing huddled closely together, eyes nervously flicking side to side as they scan the dense woodland growing in front of them.
Breathing shallowly Virian glance to Gawayn, face questioning and worries at what approaches them from within the woods. Noticing her look Gawayn nods reassuring towards her, a tight smile playing across his mouth before he looks back into the dark shadows looming in front of them.
Swallowing past a lump in her throat, Virian focuses her eyes into the darkness in front of her, relaxes her shoulders and inhales a deep breath, steadying the crossbow held tightly in her aching arms.
The bushes between the trees rustle noisily again.
Much closer this time.
A rustle sounds to the left of them and they look hastily in that direction, tension palpable in the air surrounding them.
‘Be ready for anything.’
Virian’s whisper soft, but in the silence surrounding them completely audible to her companions.
Listening intently, Virian realises that the squirrel has
stopped screeching above them, and the birdsong in the trees have muted down, only birds far away still trilling happily.
A loud scream rips through the air from behind the wall, a sound so inhuman it sends chills down all of their spines, fear clutching their hearts in its cold grips.
Trying not to be distracted by thoughts of Galen battling alone behind the wall, Virian forces herself to keep looking in front of her. A tear glistens in her eye and she wipes it away with her arm before it can roll over her flushed cheek.
‘This is so stupid.’
She whispers angrily to herself.
The rustles in the bush before them approach slowly, a half moon of movement coming closer out of the darkness.
Ten feet away. Still coming closer.
Five feet. It stops. Silence.
No rustling. No movement.
Tension builds in Virian, a slow infusion of anger building and building. A dam of water, filling up slowly, waiting for the moment it will burst its banks or overflow the rim.
Standing quietly, limbs aching and muscles burning from the intense strain of waiting, Virian feels the anger burning inside her, her cheeks getting more flushed, heat spreading over her body like a raging inferno.
Her chest heaving, she looks around her into the darkness,
the flare of anger overwhelming her sense and she screams into the silence, startling everyone around her.
‘Come out you cowards!’
A guffaw of laughter erupts from the trees, insolent snickers and chuckles infuriating her even more.
‘Are you too scared to come out from beneath the trees and face us? Or are you dogs that can only nip at our heels and wait till we turn our backs before you attack?’
Silence descends suddenly as the laughter is cut short abruptly.
Virian’s anger burns hotly and she yells coolly towards their unseen tormentors.
‘Is it the only way you can try and feel like a real man? When you ambush old men or helpless women? Does it make you hard?’
‘How dare you, you insolent wench?’ the voice from the trees thick with anger.
‘Show yourself you coward! Face me like a man!’
Virian smiles as she flicks a glance to her companions, all standing there regarding her with shock written across their faces.
‘Have you gone mad Virian?’ Gawayn whispers urgently at her.
‘No. But I am tired of this game. I would rather face my death then have to wait for it to reach for me from the dark.’
Gawayn looks at her strangely, shakes his head then mutters
under his breath.
‘I guess sooner is better then later.’
A faint sound drags their attention forwards again and all four steps back rapidly as a group of burly men, their clothes ragged and dirty, move forwards out of the bushes surrounding them.
Holding her breath, Virian counts the men coming out of the underbrush, eyes widening in despair at their numbers.
‘Seven... eight... nine.’
Virian stares as the men stop a little bit away from them, then recognizes the man from the inn and his companion, both sneering widely at the distraught looks spreading across her companions faces.
Swallowing hard she looks at the men, one uglier and more degenerate then the next, then she sneers mockingly as she says to the man leading them.
‘Oh, so you had to go find friends to help you face me again, did you?’
Cocking his head slightly to the side the man faces Virian, narrows his eyes and spits at her feet.
‘My friend nearly died from that cut you made in his throat, bitch!’
Swinging his hand through the air he gestures at the men surrounding him.
’We have merely come to seek repayment for that grievous act
of violence.’
The men pull out an assortment of knives: long bladed ones, short hafted, jagged edges, two pronged. To her amazement one man pulls out a nasty looking mace, sharp nails embedded in the oval head.
Virian looks askance at Gawayn, but he does not notice her glance aimed towards him, his eyes trained on the surrounding men.
Stalling for time, Virian asks quickly.
‘Who summoned the daemon? I am sure riff raff like you lot could not harness the necessary skill or power of compulsion to summon it.’
Laughing wickedly the man says loudly.
‘We have one amongst us whom is trained in the arts. But he has deemed it wiser not to expose himself.’
A loud roar rips from behind the wall and the grin on the man’s face spreads even wider.
‘Sounds to me like the daemon is having a good time with that gallant friend of yours that came to your rescue last night.’ Pulling his lips in an evil smirk he hisses.
‘I hope he suffers a long time before he dies.’
Virian glares at the men before lifting her crossbow higher and aiming it directly at the dirty man’s face.
‘You will die before you can even touch me pig!’
’I might, but our hidden friend will still call the daemon
down upon you. No one can kill one such as that.’
The man laughs loudly as he sees the despondent look crossing Virian’s face and gestures to his men. Slowly they begin to creep closer to the five companions, the distance between them shrinking rapidly to only a few feet.
Virian feels her companions pressing up against her: the strength harnessed within her father humming at the edges of her mind, Talli’s breath coming quickly, brushing against her skin, Dallin quivering in fear to her left, knuckles white as he clenches his dagger.
Gawayn finishes up the circle of five on the far right hand side, his calm nature an anchor of steadiness in this sea of tightly strung emotions.
Breathing steadily Virian regards the approaching men, some of them licking their lips in anticipation, others eyeing the armed group with reservation.
Screaming the leader burst into a run, hurtling directly towards Virian at a fast lope. The crossbow twangs loudly as she fires, the jagged bolt ripping through the leader’s shoulder, deflecting sideways only to pierce the man next to him in the guts.
His loud screams fill the air as he falls to the ground, roiling in pain as he clutches at the bolt imbedded in his stomach, blood streaming across his fists.
Dropping her crossbow to the floor next to her Virian pulls
her vicious looking dagger out, twirls it skilfully in her hands and waits for their assault.
The gap closes rapidly, and Siril’s steady humming reaches a crescendo, his eyes glazed over completely. Flinging a hand up in the direction of the storming men, he unleashes a shimmering flash of light, arcing silvery through the air, striking two men approaching close together. They recoil, their limp bodies flying backwards through the air, only to slam heavily into the trees behind them, bones cracking and snapping loudly.
Siril slumps to his knees, his shoulders slumped forwards, head hanging heavily as he sucks in a strained breath.
Roaring in anger the men rush in, eyes wide and mouths gaping. Closing in the six remaining men collide loudly, blades flashing, brilliant sparks flying through the air as they connect.
Virian moves agilely and lightning fast, lunges forwards as she stabs, her thin blade slipping neatly in-between the ribs of the man in front of her. Grinning she looks up into his face, agony pulling his eyes wide as his blood leak from the deep wound, his blade slips from his weak fingers, as he begins to cough. Ripping it out quickly, she blocks a downwards swipe from the man to her right.
Grinning insanely, she whips her arm around and ducks underneath the leaders out stretched arm, banging him hard in
the midriff with her open palm.
An explosion of putrid air hits her face as the force of the blow forces the air from his lungs, and he staggers to his knees.
Virian flicks a glance at her companions, seeing Gawayn and Talli holding of three men together, the one parrying and blocking as the other one tries to stab and thrust.
‘Where’s Dallin?’ the thought flashes through her mind, fear clamping coldly around her throat.
A sparkle of silver catches her eye and looking past Gawayn she sees Dallin, small blade waving dangerously at the man trying to reach him and the bag that he stands guard over.
Virian frowns as she tries to remember where they had gotten a bag, when the bag suddenly moved.
‘Father!’
A cold rock settles in her stomach as she rushes towards Siril, stopping to engaging the man Dallin tries to fend off.
A faked lunge aimed at his face, then a quick turn and drop, thrust. The blade up too the shaft in his throat, blood trickling down his neck, faint gurgles escaping his lungs.
Virian turns towards Siril, kneels next to him and turns him on his back. She sighs gratefully when she sees his chest still moving.
A brilliant flash of purple light spills through the morning sky. Amazed they all look up, flinching back as the wall rocks wildly on its braces, a violent rush of air billowing against it.
A scream of pain erupts from within the trees, muffled by the dense bush and they all look at each other, fear in their eyes.
‘Impossible!’ the leader pushes to his feet, his breathing laboured as he stumbles backwards, hastily retreating towards the trees.
Another scream of pain rips from the trees behind them, followed by a loud thump as something collapses to the ground.
Panicked, the few men left standing or able spin around and run into the woods, vanishing quickly into the shadows.
Breaking branches and yelped curses following their rushed passage.
Glancing anxiously at her father, Virian grabs Siril by the shoulders, and drags him gently to the edge of the woods where she rests his limp body against a large oak. Sitting down heavily next to him, her hand held against his head, she frowns in concern, eyes brimming with tears as the other clump together behind her.