Broken Blades Don't Sing (Tales of Ashkar Book One) (22 page)

Serraemas turned to meet a stern visage. Raxxil
retracted his arm and slung his weapon over his right shoulder.

"A Knight of the Faith should not make foolish
choices", scolded Raxxil, "Nor should a lieutenant abandon her
men."

"Here we go..." said Zaranet disapprovingly.

"This is neither the time nor place to allow
your past to influence the present circumstances", Serraemas
commanded, eyeing his hotheaded ally.

Surprise flashed across the armored woman's
angular face as her eyes widened, caught off guard by Raxxil's
disconcerting words.

"Raxxil the Volcano proclaiming judgment?"
blurted Samantha incredulously. "Your past
certainly
does
influence the present. I've not forgotten the legend: a burning
rampage of death and destruction that razed the entire city of
Lamli during the Daon War between the Order of the Faith and the
heretics that sought to exterminate them, ending the lives of many.
Your title is not an empty notoriety."

"Foolish girl", Serraemas uttered softly as he
shook his head. "That’s not what I was refer—"

Serraemas's eyes widened.

Behind Samantha, in the distance, a collection
of dark silhouettes neared.

---

Raxxil grinned.

Blood surged through his veins as adrenaline
kicked in. Up ahead, the trio of armored figures were converging on
their location, and this time, these were no mere humans compelled
by curiosity.

Serraemas cursed under his breath. The man's
dark hair swooshed about as he shifted his stance and turned his
head, looking at Erendil. "Why did you hold your tongue?"

"I wasn't certain and I… I didn't want to cause
false alarm", stammered the Towrth shamefully.

Serraemas shifted back to Raxxil and the two
locked eyes.

"Is it time?" asked Raxxil gleefully. The pain
from his wounds vanished under the power welling up from
within.

The icy elementalist nodded silently, and the
two focused their attention on the looming darkness ahead.

"TIME TO BURN!" exploded Vrand.

Confusion displayed on Samantha's face. She
turned to look behind her at the encroaching specters. She froze
for a moment, paralyzed by the troubling sight.

"If you value your life, I would suggest
reclaiming your blade", remarked Raxxil, his own hammer firmly
wrapped in his grasp. "Executioners are remorseless."

The woman turned once more, fixating on Raxxil
and studying his face for a moment before uncertainty gave way to
resolution. She dove for her weapon, reaching for it as she rolled
and then rising on two feet in one swift maneuver next to
Serraemas. The three of them stood in a line, bracing for the
impending clash.

"Stand back and let us handle this, Erendil",
ordered Serraemas without looking back. "If tragedy befalls us,
run. Flee as fast as you can."

"And protect Tanaria!" added Raxxil. He would
die a thousand times before an enemy even looked in her
direction.

"It's Arwynn!" she exclaimed bluntly, her words
wrapped in annoyance.

"There's no shortage of surprises with you",
remarked Samantha as she held her blade in front of her. "Blow with
resounding force, Kavem!"

With her command, a gust of wind swirled around
Samantha's sword and it transformed. The blade itself grew in size
significantly, its basic hilt becoming golden and intricately
designed with swirls that formed into what looked like cyclones. In
her left hand appeared a small horn out of thin air. It was also
golden, etched with runic letters and curled in the shape of a
crescent moon.

Alongside her, Serraemas uttered his command to
release his weapon, and his simple staff was replaced with its
true, frost-tipped form. Raxxil felt its chilling aura emanate
outward as the temperature around Serraemas dropped significantly.
Icicles hovered and rotated in a circular pattern around the icy
orb that manifested just above the stave's tip.

"Erupt in blazing fury, Vrand!" shouted Raxxil,
following suit with the others. In an instant, his weapon's fiery
aura radiated as it too transformed from a mere hammer into its
true form.

By now, the approaching Executioners were nearly
upon them, and Raxxil could see their armored forms clearly. He
studied their black, depthless visages, noting two sets of blue and
one set of green. He turned to the left and gazed at Serraemas. The
staff-wielder nodded silently, understanding Raxxil's thoughts
without the latter having to utter a word.

"You'll have to handle the green-eyed one",
commanded Serraemas to his left. "If you distract it long enough,
you may very well leave here alive."

"You must think me nothing but a fool", retorted
Samantha. "I'm not as weak as you believe."

Alright, let's do this.

"BUUUURN!" boomed Vrand again.

The armored shadows were mere moments away from
being upon them, and Raxxil braced to attack—

The Executioners rushed past them without even a
second glance, ignoring the elementalists completely and continuing
down the road.

Out of the corner of his eye, Raxxil saw
Serraemas wave his arms, and in an instant, a wall of ice coalesced
in front of the riders’ paths. Horses whinnied as the Executioners
pulled on their reigns to halt their movement, nearly smashing into
the thick wall from the momentum.

Glowing orbs now fixated on Raxxil and the
others with more than just cursory glances, as they had just a
moment ago. Only a couple dozen feet away, the dark figures
brandished their ghastly blades and charged toward the
elementalists. Wicked steel glinted under sunlight, ready to carve
into flesh.

Unfortunately for the Executioners, Raxxil
decided to strike first. He crouched and then pushed off with his
powerful legs, his black cloak fluttering in the wind as he
launched into the air toward one of the Executioners. Fiery blue
eyes flared at Raxxil as he brought his arm back and then swung his
burning weapon in a horizontal arc. With a resounding smash, the
hammer met the Executioner's plated chest guard, creating a fiery
explosion. The force of the blast hurled the dark figure off of its
steed until the Executioner crashed into the icy wall that
Serraemas had just created. With a satisfying crack, the wall
shattered and the figure fell to the ground.

The blast left a plume of smoke that permeated
the air briefly before being swept away by the wind. Behind him,
Raxxil heard the clashing and clanging of metal as the others
joined the fray, though he quickly drowned it out. His heart pumped
madly, the lust of battle overtaking him. His mind and body felt
free from the shackles of pain, all thoughts focused on the ghastly
armor that lay on the ground ahead of him. The Executioner
smoldered from Raxxil's explosive blow, smoke rising off of its
black armor.

"We both know that wasn't enough to kill you",
taunted Raxxil with a smirk, "So how about you get your ass back
over here for another smashing?"

As if on cue, black gauntlets pushed off from
the ground followed by a plated boot, and in a flash the sturdy
figure rose to face Raxxil.

"I will enjoy slicing that arrogant grin in
two", lashed the dark warrior. Gripping his wicked weapon firmly,
the Executioner lunged at Raxxil while raising its arms over its
head. With a diagonal thrust, the blade sought to cleave Raxxil in
half—

With quick reflexes, Raxxil braced and raised
his hammer, parrying the attack with the shaft of his weapon.
Still, the Executioner pressed down in an attempt to overpower
Raxxil, and the two became deadlocked. Raxxil continued to hold his
ground as best he could, but a plated foot struck him in the
abdomen, and he skidded back several feet before kneeling in
exhaustion. He could feel his previous wounds reopening and
rupturing once more.

"NO TIME TO SIT IDLE!" erupted Vrand.

"Yeah, yeah," retorted Raxxil as he wiped the
blood from his mouth. Relying on his hammer, he pushed up with one
leg and arm and stood up slowly. Without words—taunts or
otherwise—his opponent approached him again, firmly but slowly,
like a predator circling its maimed prey.

Muscles aching, Raxxil bounded to meet his foe.
He gripped his weapon tightly and lifted his arms to his right
while twisting his torso, then swung with all his might to the
left—

Unfortunately, his attack was dodged, and the
courteous Executioner returned Raxxil's generous gesture with a
plated fist. The uppercut sent Raxxil flying upward several feet
into the air before landing on his back, his weapon crashing onto
the grass several feet away from him. Disoriented, Raxxil laid on
the ground while his world spun in circles.

"WOUNDS ARE MEANINGLESS IF YOU'RE DEAD!" Vrand
yelled.

Raxxil tried to move, but he felt his body ache.
The adrenaline was slowly fading away. Turning his head, he noticed
black boots stepping toward him. They stopped just a few feet away.
A shadow loomed over him, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

"Raxxil!" he heard a little girl scream in
terror.

No! I won't let you die again!

"Raxxil, get up!" shrieked the same voice again.
It echoed throughout his mind and body. Gathering up what energy he
could, Raxxil rolled away from the Executioner and toward his
hammer just as the blade pierced the ground that he had just laid
upon. Using the momentum, Raxxil pushed off with his arms and
stumbled before standing upright. Panting, he reached for his
burning weapon and rested it on his shoulder.

The hammer felt much heavier than before.

Without a word, the Executioner grasped his
buried blade and pulled it out of the ground. His eyes flared at
Raxxil, as if the elementalist had done a great disservice by
evading the killing blow. Once more the dark specter advanced at
him with grim purpose and sword in hand.

"All or nothing", wheezed Raxxil.

"BURN IT ALL TO NOTHING!" shouted his explosive
elemental.

Raxxil grinned, lifting his weapon off his
shoulders and bracing to attack.

Suddenly, the blowing of a horn reverberated
across the air. The sound galvanized Raxxil, and the pain of his
wounds vanished. His body felt as light as air and the weight of
his weapon disappeared. He felt energized. It was as if he was no
longer flesh and blood, but pure will. That will sought to crush
the foe before him.

Bringing the fiery hammer to his side again,
Raxxil pressed the counterattack and lunged forward. Once more, he
swung with all his strength. Without time to evade, Raxxil's
deathly adversary raised his blade to parry, and the fiery hammer
met with ghastly steel. The blow released another explosion,
hurtling the Executioner backward. The dark warrior soared through
the air before striking a tree with a loud crack and falling to the
ground.

Raxxil rushed up to where the armored figure had
fallen, and after examining his foe, noticed that the Executioner's
hateful orbs that had previously glared at him with purpose had
faded, leaving but a husk of black armor.

"Hah!" cheered Raxxil triumphantly before
shifting his attention to the commotion still raging behind him. He
turned his gaze just in time to witness a merciless blade slash
Samantha's face.

Chapter 13

347th Dawn of the 4999th Age of Rimas

"Good, Pann", praised Sanjin. "Again!"

The sound of men grunting and clashing weapons
had filled the air for the better part of the cool morning at
Enept-Ihs's training grounds. It was here that the kingdom's armed
forces were trained, whether guards, infantrymen, or even the
renowned individuals of the Blue Swords.

The training grounds were quite large, spanning
a good portion of the King's Court, the upper level of the kingdom
that housed its palace, along with its barracks and other military
structures. Unlike most other kingdoms, such as the Asmani of Terra
Nort or the Veri to the west, Enept-Ihs's military was its royalty
for all intents and purposes.

Rows of armored wooden dummies lined the edges
of the training grounds, while the vast middle space was open for
sparring. Sanjin sidestepped just as a sword slashed downward
through the space she had just occupied, her braided ponytail
bouncing about.

"Why don't you fight me with your weapon?"
whined Pann. The younger child was doused in sweat and was
breathing heavily. "This isn't training, this is mockery!"

Sanjin laughed heartily. "Now, dear, if you
can't even hit me what would be the point?"

Frustrated at her remark, Pann lunged forward
and swiped repeatedly in futility. Sanjin evaded each attack with
ease. One could say the veteran was merely dancing with the sharp
blade, a quick dance like the Tattel dance that was identified by
its rapid, rhythmic steps that gave it its name. Except this time
it was not a man that Sanjin was paired with, but a sharp blade.
Depending on the point of view, one could argue there wasn’t much
distinction anyway.