The Cavalier (9 page)

“We have to get out of here! We will not win this fight! Get Jonas and let’s make a run for it into the mountains. We’ll grab as many survivors as we can!” He grabbed a bag by the door that was already filled with provisions.

“Are you sure? Can we make it?” asked Lorna.

“I don’t know! But if we stay, we die! That I do know!”

The door suddenly exploded inward, sending splinters and wood fragments into Lorna and Gorum, sending them both sprawling backwards to land hard on the cabin floor.

Two huge boargs entered the room, stepping over the destroyed door, looking around hungrily, their deadly clawed hands scraping on the wooden floor as they slowly looked around, sniffing the air for their next victim.

***

Airos looked around quickly before returning his gaze to the unhorsed Banthra. It was not going well. The boargs were destroying the people of Manson.
I have to kill this Banthra
, thought Airos.
It is their only chance.

The Banthra lifted its sword in the air and screamed, the screeching noise assaulting the men as they tried to fight, the Banthra simultaneously ramming the blade deep into the ground.

Airos recognized the use of magic and called on Ulren’s magic as well, but he was too slow. As the Banthra’s blade hit the earth a bolt of powerful energy traveled through the ground towards Airos. The ground erupted in a straight path and struck Suatha and Airos as the Banthra released the full power of the attack causing the ground to explode under Airos.

Suatha and Airos flew backwards landing heavily on the ground five paces away. Airos’s body was protected by Suatha’s powerful form so the courageous steed took the brunt of the attack. Airos struggled to get up and regain his footing, but his horse lay still, her underside burning and smoldering and one leg broken, hanging at an impossible angle.

Airos’s anger burned deep but controlled. He drew his long hunting knife with his left hand, holding his sword with his right he advanced on the approaching Banthra, his piercing eyes pits of boiling rage.

***

Gorum quickly scrambled to his feet, holding his heavy blade out in front of him. Lorna sprang up as well, running to stand next to him with her pitiful knife.

The boargs both hissed, a sound that Gorum now recognized as laughter. Gorum said nothing. He simply looked at Lorna, a silent ‘I’m sorry’ blanketing his face, and then he attacked the boargs with speed that seemed impossible for his size.

Gorum leaped at the first one, swinging his sword in a sideways arc hoping to kill it with the first blow, knowing that he would never be able to kill them both if he did not dispatch the first one quickly.

But the boarg was just too fast. Its long arm snaked out, grabbing the wooden chair nearby and holding it up, blocking the deadly blade. The blade crashed into the wood, shattering the chair as the boarg used its other arm to open up a gash along Gorum’s right shoulder. Gorum stumbled back and saw to his horror that the other boarg had leaped upon Lorna. But he was powerless to help her as the boarg in front of him continued the attack by leaping into the air in an attempt to pin him down with its strong clawed hands and heavy body.

Gorum knew that to retreat was death, so he simply did the thing that was least expected. He rushed forward to meet the attack. But he could not get his heavy sword up in time to cut down the leaping boarg so he punched the animal with the hand that was holding the sword. The boarg and Gorum’s powerful fist came together like an explosion, the boarg stopping instantly in the air, its lower jaw and teeth shattering on impact. Gorum felt his fist crumble, the many bones in his hand splintering under the terrible blow. They both staggered backwards in agony.

But Gorum did not feel the pain in his hand as he looked down at Lorna who was struggling against the strong beast that seemed to be playing with her. Its back legs rested on her thighs while the beast’s left hand was holding her neck. The boarg was running the claws of its right hand over her cheeks, opening up shallow cuts all over her face. Lorna was screaming and Gorum could see her scrambling to grab the knife that she dropped by her side.

Gorum switched grips, grabbing the heavy iron blade in his good hand. He gritted his teeth, swinging the blade with all his might, but his strength was leaving him and he knew that his left arm held little power. The blade sunk in a couple of inches into the boarg’s back.

The boarg roared defiantly, lashing its right arm out with astonishing speed and power, swiping its claws across Gorum’s chest and sending him sprawling to the floor with several more deep cuts and a few broken ribs.

Lorna took the brief distraction that Gorum had given her and looked for her knife. She spotted the blade, grabbing it with her right hand just as the boarg returned its attention to her. The boarg was done playing with her. Its left hand was still wrapped tightly around her throat and the beast begun to squeeze harder and lift her face to its open maw. Just as her face was inches from the boarg’s mouth, she used her right hand, slamming the razor sharp knife deep into its throat. The boarg howled as she ripped the knife through its flesh, severing the ropey vein that ran up its neck. Dark blood bathed them both but the boarg continued to squeeze her throat with the last remnants of its strength.

Gorum had landed hard, and as he struggled to get up he felt blood gushing from his wounds. As he got to his knees, a powerful weight struck him again, flattening him to his back and knocking the air from his lungs. The boarg with the broken jaw lay on top of him, its jaw crushed and hanging awkwardly to the side. Gorum tried to use the last of his strength to push the boarg off, but the beast was too strong and quick and fueled by pain and rage the beast furiously struck Gorum repeatedly, crushing his face and his throat. The pain was brief and then everything went black.

Lorna used her knife to stab at the fatally wounded boarg’s arm, its claws still clutched at her neck. The creature roared with fury and with one last burst of energy, dug its claws deep into her throat. The boarg fell away in death, Lorna’s blood covering its clawed hand. Lorna’s eyes went wide as she felt the warmth of her own blood pool around her. The boarg had sliced into her neck in several places and Lorna frantically brought her hands to her throat to try and stop the bleeding. But it was of no use, and within seconds she felt dizzy and lightheaded. There was little pain as her life blood gushed from the fatal wound and poured between her fingers. Her last thought was of Jonas as everything faded to black.

***

Fil was terrified. His family and friends were dying around him. He spotted Gorum the baker flee from the fight and head toward his home. He did not know where his family was and he did not want to die alone. Grabbing his spear he crawled out from behind the woodpile that was his hiding place and raced after Gorum. He was thirty paces from the baker’s home when he saw the two huge boargs smash their way through the baker’s door.

Fil stopped and looked around at the carnage. There were screams everywhere and men and boargs alike were dying all around him. It was obvious to Fil that the town was not going to survive. New anger surged through him and at this point he didn’t care if he died; he just wanted to inflict as much damage as possible to the beasts that did this to his home.

He gripped the spear with new vigor and raced toward Gorum’s home, running through the damaged door and into the room, attacking the first thing he saw. A boarg, with its back to the door, was sitting on top of Gorum and ripping his face apart with its teeth and claws.

Without thinking Fil ran forward and rammed his spear with all his strength into the back of the feeding beast. The spear point sunk in deep and then lodged against its sternum. The beast howled in pain, standing up and trying to grab the shaft from its back. The boarg turned around stumbling, Gorum’s blood coating its face, neck, and claws.

Fil’s anger still had not been quenched and he looked for another weapon to finish off the animal. He saw Gorum’s sword lying next to him. He grabbed it quickly. Fil was young, but strong for his age. His adrenaline took over and he hefted the sword with both hands and turned toward the stumbling beast. The boarg saw the weapon in his hands and lurched toward Fil hoping to kill the little human.

But Fil lifted the heavy blade and brought it downward with as much strength as he could muster, the sharp iron cutting deep into the boarg’s neck, causing the beast to stumble backwards, and ripping the sword from Fil’s hands. The animal wobbled on unsteady legs before finally falling to the ground, blood pulsing from the terrible wound.

A horrible gagging noise alerted Fil that he was not alone. He glanced against the wall, noticing a woman on the ground, her throat covered in blood. Fil ran towards her and knelt by her side. Blood had pooled all around her body and it was still slowly pouring from the lacerations at her throat. He noticed that it was Lorna, the mother of the cripple.

Lorna grabbed Fil’s arm with surprising strength, looking at him with the last of her life’s energy. “Jonas…..in the fireplace…..help him….protect him,” Lorna murmured quietly, her voice a soft gurgle. “Promise me, Fil,” she whispered, her strength finally leaving her.

Fil held her hand gently.
 
Not knowing what else to say to the dying woman, he said what she wanted to hear. “I promise; I will look after him.” Fil stared down at Lorna as she died, her eyes glazing over and her blood smeared hand falling away. Fil did not know Lorna well, but the dying woman seemed to symbolize the entire town, the town that he had loved for fifteen years. He thought about his family and friends dead and dying, and tears began to fall, tears he could not stop as they cascaded down over the Lorna’s body.

He went on like that for a few moments, struggling to regain control of his emotions. The torrent of tears slowly stopped as Fil created a mental dam, a dam built of anger and determination. As the tears subsided, Fil gently used his hand to close her eyes. He got up and ripped the spear from the dead boarg.
I’m going to survive this
he thought
; they will all pay for what they have done.

***

Airos and the Banthra clashed together, their blades creating a blur of magical energy. Airos’s skill with a blade was unrivaled, but he had never met a Bantrha in combat before. What Airos possessed in skill, the Banthra made up in magical enhancements. Airos’s blades spun faster and faster, creating a deadly barrage of steel that could not be stopped; so he thought.

But the Banthra was there, blocking every slash and lunge. The blackness of the creature began to suffocate Airos as they struggled together. He could feel the vileness seep his energy from him, the Bantrha hissing as he felt Airos begin to slow. Airos jabbed his long sword forward but fell off balance as the Banthra sidestepped the attack, slamming a spiked gauntlet into Airos’s side as the cavalier stumbled by. Airos felt the corrupt metal sink several inches into his unprotected side. The sting was unbearable, for the Banthra’s weapons were no ordinary steel. They were cursed weapons that created wounds that killed much faster and would not heal without magic.

“What’s wrong, cavalier? Does it sting?” the Banthra’s gravelly voice whispered. Airos was visibly struggling against the pain as the demon mocked him.

“Ulren, help me fight this abomination,” he prayed. As he focused on his prayer, the pain began to subside. His hands began to tingle and the black veil that seemed to cover him fell away and new strength shot through him. The wound in his side sealed itself as the pain mercifully faded away.

The Banthra felt his magic being countered and hissed angrily, swinging his blade down in an overhead chop. Airos flung up his sword and knife in a cross block catching the flaming weapon. He used his sword to slide the Banthra’s blade to the side while ramming his knife deep into the Banthra’s thigh. The Banthra screamed, lurching backwards, the magical knife ripping from its leg and falling from Airos’s hand.

Airos gripped his sword with both hands, and summoning the High One’s energy he released it toward the Banthra. “Ulren!” Airos screamed, pointing his sword at the Banthra. Airos’s body glowed bright blue for a second, then all the energy burst from the tip of the sword in a powerful bolt of God Fire that hit the Banthra square in the stomach, forcing it to stumble backwards. The Banthra snarled and looked down at a charred burning hole in its bowels, its legs wobbly underneath him.

Braal ripped his axe from the dying beast’s chest and looked up for his next victim.
 
He had long ago exhausted all the energy of his physical body and was now fighting with his heart. His anger fueled him; the anger of his brother’s death many years ago, the anger of seeing the death and destruction of the town he loved. He knew this new energy would not last forever so he found his next victim quickly.

The Banthra was standing with its back to him not more than twenty paces away. As he looked at the devil warrior he saw Airos launch a dazzling bolt of flame into the demon’s stomach. Braal shielded his eyes from the brightness, gripping his axe tighter. He looked back at the staggering demon and his eyes burned with hatred. Braal lifted his axe, charging at the personification of his fury, at the very thing that had destroyed everything he held dear.

Airos saw the charge and screamed inwardly, knowing that Braal’s weapon could do nothing. Airos moved in like a striking snake just as the Banthra turned to meet the charge that he sensed behind him. The Banthra held up his sword to intercept the powerful chop of the axe. When the two weapons met the axe exploded in a shower of metal and wood and the Banthra reversed the parry and struck the enraged human in the side, the magical flames of the sword cutting through the man’s body as if it were made of air.