Broken Blades Don't Sing (Tales of Ashkar Book One) (24 page)

Again Samantha crouched out of harm's way.
Leaving her no reprieve, the Executioner drew back and thrust his
blade at the crouched woman.

Samantha grunted, stumbling backward and falling
onto her rear.

"Raxxil!" cried the young child from somewhere
behind her. Surprised, Samantha turned her head and gazed upon the
still figure of the hammer-wielder.

"Samantha, the Executioner is upon you!" cried
Kavem, his voice almost quavering in concern.

Samantha snapped back to her own situation, but
her foe had already taken advantage of her carelessness. In an
instant he was upon her with wicked blade at the ready. With a
swift gesture the blade rushed down, seeking to pierce Samantha's
chest.

Samantha brought her left hand to her mouth, and
with it, the horn she held tightly. With no time to waste she blew,
sending forth a wave that invigorated not only herself but her
allies as well. Hastened like the wind themselves, Samantha strafed
to the side as steel pierced the ground she had just stood
upon.

Still, the Executioner gave her no respite. He
quickly drew his blade and rushed at her. Even with her augmented
speed, Samantha was hard-pressed to even catch her breath; the
deathly figure swung repeatedly with monstrous strength and without
remorse. She parried blows left and right, but was overwhelmed.
Samantha felt a cold, armored fist strike her square in the face.
She closed her eyes as she winced in pain and stumbled backward in
a daze.

"Samantha!" yelled Kavem.

Instinctively, she leapt backward, but not
before the Executioner's vile blade sliced her face diagonally.

Pain consumed Samantha, and she dropped her
weapon. She fell onto her rear, clutching her face with her now
free hand. Warm blood gushed forth, running down her face and neck.
For some reason, Samantha could not see out of her right eye. There
was no time to figure out why, for she felt a dark presence loom
over her. Looking up, Samantha saw the shadow that spelled her
doom.

Green eyes flared at her in gleeful triumph.

"This is where your petty life comes to a
close", claimed the deathly figure. Death raised its culling blade
high into the air—

A large sliver of ice pierced through the
Executioner's chest from behind. Shocked, he dropped his weapon and
looked down at the mortal wound. Shaking, armored hands slowly
moved up to grasp the blood-stained shard.

The last thing Samantha saw as her world faded
into darkness was a fiery hammer flying in from the side and
colliding with the Executioner's head. The force of the blow and
resulting explosion was so great that the shadowy warrior's
head—now almost indistinguishable from a fireball—flew into the
trees as the limp body fell to the ground.

---

Serraemas breathed a sigh of relief.

"I suppose they had not anticipated a group such
as us to chase their prey", said Zaranet.

The elemental was right. Had the Executioners
anticipated elementalists such as Serraemas and Raxxil, they would
have sent a stronger force to complete the task. A red- or
purple-eyed Executioner would have changed the situation
drastically.

Serraemas looked at the beaten and bruised
Raxxil. Several wounds had reopened, red liquid seeping out and
staining the white cloth wrapped all over the man's body; the quick
triage that they had utilized was insufficient for a battle such as
this one. Raxxil was slumped over and breathing quite heavily, but
still standing nonetheless.

Even less fortunate was the stubborn young woman
that now laid on her back unconscious. Blood gushed out of the
wound she had sustained on her face, pooling underneath her across
the ground. Her body was still, but she drew breath ever so
slightly.

To her misfortune, that would soon cease.

Serraemas examined both Erendil and the young
child that refused to do anything but accompany them. They both
were in shock at what had transpired, clutching onto each other and
staring in horror at the motionless body of Samantha.

"We're done here", Serraemas said calmly.
"Erendil, can you still sense our target?"

The towrth did not reply, mouth still agape and
attention focused elsewhere.

Serraemas gritted his teeth. "Death is a part of
this world, so become accustomed—"

"We're not going to just leave her like this",
said Raxxil in between breaths.

Serraemas glared at the burning elementalist,
the latter returning a stern and unwavering complexion.

"First the child, and now her?" Serraemas
berated. "You cannot protect everyone you fancy!"

"I said we're going to save her!" roared the
hammer-wielder defiantly. He rose to his full height willfully
despite grunting in pain, his furious eyes still fixated on
Serraemas. Raxxil's green eyes flared with a mixture of tenacity
and desperation.

"Have you forgotten what befalls those that are
cut by an Executioner's blade?" returned Serraemas vehemently.
"She's not long for this world, and there's nothing you nor I can
do about it."

Raxxil's expression shifted from rage to
melancholy as the words registered. His eyes softened, and he
looked away in shame. Raxxil focused his gaze on the young woman's
body one last time before turning and walking down the path, past
Serraemas without a glance.

---

Death comes. Death comes as the light fades
away and the shadows envelop.

Erendil trudged on behind Serraemas and Raxxil,
the former hastily leading the charge again down the serpentine
dirt path with determination. For several hours everyone seemed to
keep to themselves, hardly exchanging any words.

Since then, Erendil's gaze had been fixed on the
ground before him. He let his thoughts wander. He hadn't given the
attack on the village much thought until he saw Samantha struck
down in front of him. The cries and shouts of the fallen echoed in
his mind. It was so visceral.

Life… it is so fragile.

He had offered Arwynn to sit atop his shoulders,
and she had happily obliged. For the most part she had been quiet,
but now she was humming a tune softly. It reminded Erendil of the
lullabies Sora would sing to him listen when he was a child, the
kind that would ward off the monsters of his imagination and allow
him to sleep. Only this time, the monsters were no longer just a
figment of his mind.

"The next town, Enorra, should be just up
ahead", Serraemas called out from ahead, his voice calm and without
expression. Faint plumes of smoke rose into the sky up ahead,
signaling civilization. Unrelenting and determined, the
staff-wielder showed no signs of slowing down. Had the man not
witnessed what Erendil had seen? How could his friend be so
apathetic? Surely life was more precious than their mission?
Erendil had so many questions, but elected not to ask.

"Where is he now?" Serraemas asked coolly as he
turned his head slightly in Erendil's direction.

The soul is the dark depths where light
cannot remain and where shadows reign.

Erendil frowned. There it was again. The voice
that echoed in his mind, whispering words of dread. Words that
dismayed Erendil greatly, implanting troubling thoughts and images
he wished not to see. A voice that wasn't his own. It belonged to
Akaba, for the voice was the same that he had heard when he had
initially used his newfound powers. It was the voice of his
elemental. He was sure of it. What he wasn’t sure about was why the
elemental continued to mar Erendil’s thoughts with such awful
words.

"Erendil", said a different, much more familiar
voice that pierced his bubble. "I need you to concentrate."

Snapping out of the trance, Erendil returned his
attention to the physical world and met the gaze of Serraemas, who
was now looking up at him with a fair share of urgency. Their faces
were mere inches apart. Erendil felt the man's eyes pierce right
through him.

For the first time, he was terrified by the much
smaller elementalist.

"He's several miles to the northeast", replied
Erendil hastily, "But I think he has stopped moving."

Serraemas looked up, then looked down the path
pensively for several moments before glancing at Raxxil. How the
fiery warrior was able to not only stand but travel with such
grievous wounds—without a word at that—amazed Erendil. It seemed
Raxxil had also been preoccupied with his thoughts.

"It could be a trap", Serraemas finally said as
he looked back at them. "Raxxil needs aid and rest, so we will take
refuge in Enorra." With that, he continued to lead the way.

Erendil followed hurriedly, and did so for more
reasons than one.

---

"And here we are!" said the innkeeper cheerfully
as he opened the door that led to a small, simplistic room on the
second floor fitted with three equally small beds. Light poured in
from a window that one could view a good portion of the town with.
"The village medicine man will arrive shortly to take a look at
your… uh… wounds."

The town's militia had initially been
apprehensive toward the newcomers, receiving word of the demonic
attacks. However, upon seeing Raxxil's wounds and the small child,
their trepidation gave way to sympathy. With no proper protection,
a group of human elementalists was probably a welcome sight, even
if they traveled with an unsettling towrth.

"Thank you", replied Serraemas as he set down
his belongings next to one of the beds. "That will be all."

The innkeeper remained motionless, however, and
stared at their weapons nervously with beady eyes.

"He said that will be all", asserted Raxxil
strongly.

"Oh!" blurted the jittery man, nearly jumping at
Raxxil's reminder. "Of course!" The innkeeper wheeled around and
stepped out the door, closing it abruptly behind him, and Serraemas
heard rushed footsteps descending down the wooden stairs.

Arwynn jumped onto one of the beds and wrapped
herself in one of the sheets. It wasn’t long before sobs emanated
from where she lay bundled. Both Raxxil and Erendil sighed deeply,
uncertain of what to do or say. The former turned his gaze away,
instead looking out the window while the latter twiddled with his
thumbs.

"She is much too young to bear the struggles of
reality", said Zaranet.

"No", replied Serraemas in his mind. "If Raxxil
truly wishes for her to stay, she must face the truth of this
world."

A series of knocks came from the door. The sound
was hardly loud enough to wake a heavy sleeper, but to Serraemas it
was almost abrasive as it entered his ears and caught his
attention. He perked up and reached for his staff.

A few moments later, the knocks came again.

"Who is it?" asked Serraemas as he readied into
a defensive stance. Meanwhile, Raxxil reached for his weapon and
Erendil quietly moved in front of Arwynn.

"A concerned father", responded a deep, sullen
voice.

Serraemas paused briefly, and the air became
still as he mulled over the words. “You may enter.”

The door opened slowly with an obnoxiously loud
creak, revealing a balding, mustached man wearing a dirtied
blacksmith's apron on top of stitched clothing. As he stepped into
the room, light shone on his features, illuminating narrow green
eyes that flickered nervously—although Serraemas surmised that,
unlike the innkeeper, it was neither from their presence nor from
their weapons.

"What business do you have with us?" inquired
Serraemas. He loosened his stance, but still clutched his weapon
tightly.

"My name is Charles, and I am this village's
blacksmith", answered the older man as he faced Serraemas. "Word
has traveled that Bellis was attacked, and my daughter was a Knight
of the Faith stationed there to protect the town. She was a
lieutenant in command of several soldiers. I understand that you
lot are travelers that were present during the attack, and I have
not received word from her."

"Samantha..." muttered Raxxil softly.

"Yes, that's her name!" stated the man eagerly,
diverting his attention to the wounded warrior. "Where is she? Is
she all right?"

Raxxil looked away, unable to answer
outright.

The man's expression changed from hopefulness to
confusion as his brows furrowed and his forehead wrinkled. He
looked back at Serraemas.

Serraemas shook his head. "She didn't make
it."

Even Arwynn's cries had stopped, and the room
was bathed in silence for a significant amount of time. The
distraught father trembled, stumbling slightly as he made his way
over to the wall next to the window. He leaned forward with his
head down, pressing a free hand on the painted wood. Though the
blacksmith was turned away from Serraemas, he noticed the floor
next to the man's feet darken with drops of sorrow.

"She... she was all I had", said the mustached
man shakily. After several moments, he wiped his eyes and turned
back to Serraemas. "Thank you for telling me."

With that, the door opened and closed once
again.

Chapter 15