Sitting
awkwardly in the saddle, with her arms crossed, Eilonna surly watched in the
back of her impudent companion. His insolence brought back many painful
memories. Ones she thought would never surface again. The memories she hoped
would stay buried in the past. Living in the world made for men, as ambitious
as she was, put an obstacle in front of her every step. Always having to prove
that she is strong enough, smart enough, and capable enough, whilst working
twice as hard as anyone else. And still, she managed to cope with everything,
better than all of them put together.
In time,
they recognized her value, saw her capabilities, and gave her much deserved
respect. But now, this despicable half-orc turned her into a laughing stock.
And all in front of the soldiers. And what was even worse, those from Vallsynk.
And by doing it so, he, perhaps in an instant, ruined her reputation once and
for all. Seething with anger, the only thing she could think of was revenge for
this humiliation.
It took
them a couple of hours to reach the far edge of the swamps. The journey which
they spend in awkward silence. The change in scenery became ever so apparent,
as they left the marshes behind. Here, the trees looked greener. Even the air
was much more pleasant. The road was no longer muddy. Birds were chirping. The
surrounding was no longer gray and bland. But bright and exuberant. Alive. This
complete transformation of the landscape, somewhat improved Eilonna’s mood.
Road
forked some hundred yards ahead. To the left was a direct path towards
Vallsynk. And to the right, the road starting with the six bridges over the
Thirel river, was the one which they took. It was a long, and winding, coastal
road, made for the most part, out of cobblestone, gathered around the shores of
Kabial. Just northwest of here, were Tvayas hills. The place of the final
battle of the Big war. There, on those hills, a very small number of soldiers
fought off the orcish horde, stopping them from reaching Issurk. This was
a historical place. But now, after so many years, it was somewhat
forgotten.
Suddenly,
several cloaked figures stepped out from the concealment of the trees, just as
Bagtur and Eilonna crossed the last of the bridges. Cocked crossbows, pointing
towards them, told clearly that any attempt of escape was futile.
“Please,
get off your horses.” the apparent leader said “This is a robbery.”
“Don’t
want any trouble gentlemen.” Bagtur complied with the robber's request “Let us
through and I’ll forget this whole ordeal.”
“To let
you go?” the bandit laughed. “I’m afraid you are not in a position to make any
demands.”
“We are in
a bit of a hurry, so if you could…”
“I find
your lack of respect quite annoying. May I suggest a change in attitude, before
this gets real ugly.” robber interrupted Bagtur.
“Bah! And
you are supposed to be my protection?” councilor Falkner spat at Bagtur “You
let these lowlifes to surprise you like this.”
“Now,
now…” the animosity between those two amused the robber. “You should’ve taught
your little lady to keep her mouth shut. Her insults will only make things
worse.”
“His
little lady?!” Eilonna shrieked with fury “Listen scum, I am no one's property.
And if anyone should tread on carefully from now on, should actually be you
lot.”
“Watch out
boys, we got a feisty one over here.” the bandit laughed wholeheartedly.
“Aye boss,
she sure looks like a scratcher.” another one laughed.
Eilonna
lunged at the dirtbag, wanting to punch that despicable smile out of his face.
And would probably make it, if it weren’t for the half-orc, grabbing her, once
again, before she could even take a first step. Councilor tried to free
herself, but Bagtur would have none of it, as he gently moved her aside. In a
blink of an eye, he had drawn his sword, burying it in the head of the nearest
robber. The death was instantaneous. So sudden and violent, it stunned everyone
for a bit. And it gave Bagtur just enough time to deal another deadly blow,
spilling bandit’s guts, with one clean swing. Eilonna looked away in disgust,
wondering if half-orc did it on purpose, considering how precise and clinical
his strike was.
Three of
the remaining robbers fired from their crossbows, seemingly out of fear and
panic. And they all missed. All bar one. That one bolt, sent from their
leader’s crossbow hit the target, striking deep into Bagtur’s shoulder. Under
the rush of adrenaline, half-orc barely even noticed it, continuing with his
charge.
The robber
reached for his short sword, but was too slow, as half-orc’s blade came
sideways at him, slicing his hand. Bagtur feigned the attack, before spinning
in the opposite direction, swinging with full force, using the momentum. A
horrible scream of pain, was drowned with even more gruesome sound of cracking
and tearing of the flesh and bones. Sword went through the ribs, lungs and
heart with ease, in one smooth motion, until it got hooked. Half-orc jerked
hard, prying off a sizeable chunk of torso, dropping the thief to the ground in
the torrent of blood.
Two of the
remaining robbers charged at Bagtur simultaneously, from opposite directions.
It was their one and only option, seeing how easy and fast, half-orc dealt with
them. And it almost succeeded immediately, as Bagtur barely managed to dodge
the attacks. But half-orc was much more used to combat than these bandits. And
once the surprise of that opportunistic, sudden attack subsided, he managed to
regain the initiative. Violently swinging, Bagtur was adamant not to give them
a single moment of rest.
Military
training gave half-orc the advantage. Something which the bandit leader
recognized perhaps a bit too late. And it certainly looked even more hopeless,
when the last member of his small gang fell silently to the ground, with his
head split open. Robber stared in disbelief at the bodies of his dead friends,
and at the same time withdrew a couple of steps back, away from the large
half-orc. Thought of running crossed his mind, when all of the sudden he
stopped in his tracks, noticing a short, black bolt jutting out of Bagtur’s
shoulder. Ominous smile appeared in the corner of the bandit's mouth, as he
disdainfully spat towards the half-orc.
Bagtur
didn’t miss the noticeable change in robber’s demeanor, but was unsure what to
think of it. And that changed almost immediately, as the wave of nauseating
dizziness weakened his entire body. Sharp, pulsating pain spread from his arm,
making him finally realize that he was wounded. Half-orc pulled the bolt,
tossing it like a toothpick, ready to charge at the last standing bandit. And
he would, if it weren’t for this even stronger wave of nausea, weakening his
body. It made him stumble to the side. He was losing the feeling in his legs.
Confused, Bagtur glanced at the wound once again. A dark, thick liquid, oozed
out of the tiny hole, meaning only one thing. He was poisoned.
In anger,
half-orc brandished the weapon. But, his strength was almost gone by now. He
completely missed the robber, which hadn’t even moved. He tried to lift it
again, but the sword slipped out of his weakened hands. Poison was fast
spreading through the entire Bagtur’s body. He couldn’t even stand straight.
Stumbling for a few steps, half-orc fell hard on his back.
“Your
valuables, or your lives?” the robber laughed “Or is it too late to ask that
now?”
“Your
life, scum!” Eilonna growled angrily, as she stepped in between two men,
drawing her short-sword.
Caught by
a surprise, bandit begin to retreat before councilor’s Falkner vicious attacks.
Lightning fast moves, and the elegance in which she performed the skilled
maneuvers, was astounding. It wasn’t too long, before bandit had visibly
injured arms and chest. He was losing a lot of blood. His reactions became ever
so slower. His attacks became sluggish to say at least. It was just a matter of
time, before Eilonna could manage to deal the fatal blow. And that fact
alone, was probably hurting the bandit even more, than all of his injuries
combined. Soon, he came to realization, he won’t last much longer, in this
intense duel. With the last burst of energy, the robber launched himself in a
desperate attempt to attack. But it was in vain. Tip of Eilonna’s sword sliced
his wrist, making him drop his weapon. A second later, with the full force of
her body, councilor Falkner plunged her blade in the defenseless bandits loins,
almost all the way to the hilt.
Bandit
moaned, leaning his head unto Eilonna’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, panting
ever so harder, whilst his heart strokes slowed down. In short, intense twitch,
his body finally relaxed. He was dead. Councilor Falkner let him drop to the
ground, whilst ripping her sword from his body, before turning towards the
half-orc.
Bagtur was
lying still, barely conscious. He was breathing heavily, and ever so slower.
The injury and the feverish state in which the half-orc was in was treatable,
but not here. She kneeled beside him, checking the wound. He was poisoned. She
was sure of that. Thick black substance, oozing out of his wound, was apparent.
She managed to squeeze out a substantial amount of it, hoping that would help.
But she had no clue how much of the poison was already in his bloodstream. He
needed help. And fast. With a lot of trouble, she lifted the half-orc to his
horse, tying him with a rope. She then pulled the reins, while mounting her
horse, spurring it towards the Issurk. The castle town, whose massive walls
were standing unconquerable, since the old days, when the fort was built.
