Drac was alone in the hideout. As he sat on the bumpy bed, he thought about all Hood had told him. This was too big for him. Just this morning, all he had to care about was his farm and Bree. He never really wondered much about his origins because he was satisfied with the life of a farmer.
Was.
He stared at the numerous blades on the walls. Shields and spears are mounted on racks. But what got most of his attention was the bow. Living isolated, he had to get what he needed himself. Whether it was collecting herbs, cutting wood, or hunting for meat, he went out hunting with his father as a toddler, learning how to track, bait, and use a bow. Handling a bow was Drac’s favourite part. Pulling the string, the wooden limbs bend. Letting go and watching an arrow fly felt like a release of tension off Drac’s shoulder each time.
Drac stood and walked to the bow. He held the bow to the light. Dark brown, Grip is made of fine leather like Hood’s short sword.
He should have taken me.
But what can he do? Drac did nothing to help Hood. He would be a liability, a weight to drag to and fro. But he can't help but sense something has changed in the air. Drac can’t stop worrying. Worrying about Hood and Bree. However, Drac felt an itch at the back of his mind.
I can just go and check. I don't need to even leave the well.
Drac put the bow down. He stepped through the crack and walked further until he reached the opening of the well. He began the climb. A quarter of the way to the opening, he stopped as he heard the voice above.
“It's a pity, it is.”
“I know. More sacrifices, so close together? But it just rained today!”
“Baron sent word that Gaia needs more. Pestilence is running rampant through towns like ours. Gaia requires a sacrifice that is worth it."
“The baron himself? Oh dear. May Gaia bless Bree's sacrifice.”
Drac’s hand weakened, nearly losing grip of the ladder. The worst outcome had happened. Drac scrambled up the ladder and jumped off at a safe height. He rushed to the training room. I grabbed the bow and a quiver. He takes as many arrows as he can carry. He strapped the quiver to his back. He pauses. He looks at the wall of blades and chooses a dagger with a sheath. He double-checks that the dagger is behind him, sheathed, and the quiver is full on his back. With a bow in hand, Drac rushed once again out of the hideout.
**************************************************
Cal advanced onto Hood. longsword on his right hand and a scar on his left eye. The fight between the two happened just a few hours ago. Just a mark, pinker than his skin remains. Eye unaffected.
Cal set his soul ablaze, the wind was pushed away by the power. White heat explodes from his body. The flames coalesce around his sword.
Cal blitzed towards Hood, a thrust to Hood's body. Hood parried it to the right. Hood stepped to the left side. Cal swipes to his right. Hood stepped back. The door blocked his way backwards. Cal thrusted again. The door is destroyed by chunks of wood. Hood rolls to the right and tries to gain distance. Cal closed in with insane speed and collided with Hood's blade. In the air, Hood reached inside his jacket and let loose three smaller throwing daggers, aiming for Cal’s head, chest, and thigh. Cal blocked and protected his chest and head, letting one knife go to the thigh. Cal groaned with a smile on his face. Hood landed, tumbling into the pentagram and bouncing on the stone floor. Mid-tumble, he pushed to recover a semblance of a fighting stance. The defensive stance: rock. Blade to the chin, his arms low to privates. Feet flat and wide apart, positioning the left foot at 11 and the right foot at 2. Hood checks that the vambrace in his jacket is secure.
Rushing water.
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Cal pulled out the knife and let it fall bloody to the ground. “Full of little tricks, aren't you?"
Hood grips his blade. “I am not done with them yet.” A fourth knife hit Cal's blade.
“HAHA. You little prick!” Cal rushes again.
Focus. It is just as you have practised. Sense t weak points in his sword aura. Deflect!
Sparks flew everywhere. Swords are a blur. Cal, with seemingly endless stamina, kept aggressively attacking. Nonetheless, Hood is still standing. Dispersing the strength of the attacks using his blade and vambrace saves him from only three-quarters of the power. Some attacks still get through and add more injuries as time goes on.
Now.
Hood released a ball from his jacket. It exploded into a cloud of smoke. The hood hides in the grey mist. Stalking low, encircling Cal
“Another Trick? Are you going to pull out roses next?”
A knife darted at the left side of Cal's head. Cal blocked. One knife was aimed at his foot. Cal repositions his feet. The hood blade comes from below. Cal’s chin is nicked as he moves away in time. Cal crashed his sword against the stone floor where he judged Hood to be.
“Face me as a warrior!" Cal shouted.
“Warrior, I am not.” From the cloud, Hood emerges and lunges at Cal’s lower back.
Cal turned around. With a sword in both hands, the heir to Plyton pushed Hood’s blade up. And with the same motion, he brings his sword down.
***********************************************************
Drac reached the top of the well. He peeped out, and the two guards who were talking about his best friend’s capture stood unaware by the wall. Luckily they were a few metres away but were not facing the well. Using his hunting skills, he tries to make as little noise as possible while going over the well. His feet found grass, and Drac crouched to the nearest alley.
I need a disguise.
Drac saw a hood drying off a washing line, drying after being used for the earlier rainfall.
Stealing won’t matter if I can help...
Drac put the hood on over his quiver. He looked through his memories. It's been years since he last set foot in Plyton. But he can still remember the roads and alleys where he spent his childhood. He figured out a route to avoid patrols. After a while of manoeuvring through the wet, mucky streets, he finds an exit out of Plympton.
Drac walks further until he finds a horse hitched to a tree, grazing.
“What luck! My Horse!” I was pleased to meet his former rider, the horse neighs. Drac pats the horse and mounts. “Giddyup!” Drac’s horse builds up speed until its mane blows in the wind.
Counting on his memory. He followed the road to the compound.
The hood should be there already.
Drac arrived at the path that went to the compound. No guards are to be seen. Drac trot down the path to the front door. Double doors were made of wood. Drac dismounted off his steed and walked to the door. He took off the hood, uncovering the quiver. He grabs an arrow and notches it. He carefully opens the door. There is no guard in the lobby. Remembering his previous visit to this place, he lurks through the complex. Due to being frightened out of his mind, he didn't notice how much the building was in tatters. Windows cracked and is broken in places. Carpets are dirty from a decade of boots walking. Dust collects on every surface. Spider webs coat the ceiling.
“There you are, boy!" Somebody grabs Drac from behind with a choke from the rear.
“Sire needs you alive, so come calmly, alright, boy?” The guard's breath smells of cheap mead. Drac’s breath is being squeezed out of him.
“Ok, OK!” Drac drops his bow. shows that his left hand is empty.
“Good, now wait till my AAHH!”
Drac's dagger is deep in the guard's right leg. Guard lets off some of his strength, and Drac pushes off.
"You, dirty foreigner! How dare you!!"The enraged guard unsheathed his sword. He attacks with an overhead strike at Drac. It is dodged, but more attacks follow. And an inexperienced fighter like Drac can't see where these sloppy strikes are coming next. The guard tries another overhead slice.
Let's try this!
Drac reverse-gripped his blade. Blocked the incoming attack. Almost buckles. Drac pushed the sword to the side. He stepped inside.
Stab.
Right in the throat of the guard. Drac can see the man's eyes, full of terror and regret. The body slumped, and Drac pulled out his knife. Drac stepped over to the discarded bow.
Drac looked at the bow. What a fine finish. The wood is glossed almost to a shine. The leather around the grip is crafted with the best leather a nobleman could afford. string made of sinew that Drac’s homemade bow can never compare to. He looks at the body.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
“Allar!!” Drac turned to see a guard shouting. He picked an arrow out of the quiver and notched it. He pulled back and let go, all in one breath. The loud guard fell to the ground. The arrow stuck deep between the eyes.
Bree…
Drac found the corridor to the room. He sprinted, hearing the clashing of steel getting louder, and he got closer. He ran faster. He reached the doorway; the door seemed to be broken into bits. He saw Cal standing in a cloud of smoke. The smoke is blown apart by Cal; he sliced Hood in two.
Another Hood appeared from behind to thrust his blade. Drac could see from the doorway that Cal was smiling wide. A large, unnerving, childish smile caused his eyes to squint.
“Hood, NO!!” Drac readies and arrows to be fired.
Cal ignited his aura edge once again and turned back to attack, his longsword going straight for Hood's neck.
Drac, let go.