Vandryss is really good, I am keenly aware of this fact. This whole time we been fighting, she’s fought off everything I’ve thrown at her, she’s just too quick and a whole lot stronger than I would’ve expected just to look at her. That said, I fought enough seemingly underwhelming individuals who turned out to be incredibly dangerous in my time that this ain’t nothing like the surprise she might’ve banked on. Her impressive talent, though … that was enough of a surprise for me.
She’s run me ragged since we started this, when Shay arrived I didn’t even try to convince her not to join the fight because I knew I really didn’t have much left, she came to help at just the right time. But then this evil fucking cunt just beat down what we were both able to throw up against her and now Shay’s sitting there in her own blood, one of the nastiest wounds you can get in her gut and a potential death sentence hanging over her. I seen wounds like that before, it’s a rare thing to survive one of those. She’s strong, she might last a few days, but she’s almost certainly gonna die, and it’s a real painful way to go, too.
I’m mad. I am absolutely fuming, in fact. I wanna tear this bitch apart with my bare hands and bathe in her blood. This is the kind of rage that makes a person unstoppable … and it might be enough to win this fight …
Seeing me coming for her, Vandryss just shrugs, spreading her arms wide as she takes a few steps back, still wearing that sickening smile. “That mean it’s just you and me again?” Her accent’s thicker than Yeslee’s, she’s definitely from Tektehr, and hearing it now … yeah, to be honest that just makes me hate her even more.
When I’m within striking distance I don’t bother with any banter, don’t try anything fancy, I just spur myself into a full, furious charge and head straight for her. I don’t even raise my sword, I just tighten up and throw myself forward, and now I see the first whisker of doubt cross her face before I just commit and I’m not even seeing her face anymore. I’m just concentrating on her centre of mass.
“Oh … shit!” I hear her mutter it under her breath as I surge in, but if she tries to react as she realises I’m not doing what she would’ve expected me to do she’s too slow to make any difference now. I catch her full force in the middle with my shoulder and keep moving forward, pushing upwards as I make contact and then just stopping on the spot, or at least as much as the wet grass allows me to. Needless to say she goes flying.
She sprawls hard on her back and skids as she lands, but somehow she still manages to keep hold of her blades. If she’s winded it don’t show, she starts getting up almost immediately, but I ain’t interested in giving her a chance to collect herself right now. I just want her dead. So I charge in again and swing Hefdred up high, catching the hilt in my offhand at the last so I can use full force as I bring it down on her while she’s still just up onto one knee.
Except she’s still so damn fast, she catches me coming and it’s enough for her to get her sword and knife both up before I can cut down into the top of her head, maybe split her in two, I’ve long since given up trying to capture her alive. Instead my blade just crashes down into both of hers as she crosses them over her head, and while the force of my blow is enough to knock them down again, she still manages to stop me an inch or so short of her crown. Growling hard, I just start trying to force my blade down further, putting every ounce of strength I can muster into it now as I fight to crush her arms down under my sword and bite into her skull after all … but no joy. It’s like trying to cut through solid granite.
‘Least she ain’t smiling anymore, I realise. I catch sight of her blazing emerald eyes glaring up at me from under her rigid blades, a littler tremulous now but it’s just the subtle quiver of her own effort to ward me off, she ain’t weakening. She’s pissed, though, I got her angry now, and in the face of this it feels like a tiny victory. I force my own smile to my lips now, and while it don’t feel fantastic, reckon I at least got it smug as I can manage. Seeing that, she just narrows her eyes, growling low under her breath. Means it’s working.
So I take a little risk and just take my weight off the blade for a split. Enough for me to draw my shoulders back, tensing again as soon as I get a little relief. She doesn’t catch my intent quick enough to react, so as I give less than an inch I snap back down on it immediately, throwing my full weight on Hefdred again with a hard downward jolt. And she gives.
Not by much, mind, but the surprise is enough she slackens by a degree at least, and this time I chop down more than another inch. She ducks her head aside too quick for me to cut down right into her crown, her reflexes are clearly too good for that, but I still manage to catch the side of her forehead before she can withdraw enough, cutting a line into her white skin. That makes her snarl with particular fury, and her eyes flash again before they clamp shut.
Breaking contact, she drags both blades away from under my sword in the same motion that she throws herself aside with, but as she starts to unbalance me I just keep pushing Hefdred down with full force, hoping I can proper cut into her while she’s disengaging. She’s still so fucking fast, she almost gets clear before I can catch her, but my sword just nicks her thigh before she can quite make it, and I know I cut deep.
Then Hefdred thumps deep into the turf and I almost drop onto my knees as I fight to keep from just falling forward entirely. I barely manage to recover myself in time, and I pull back immediately, yanking the blade free with a great spray of muddy soil and shredded grass, wheeling my arms a bit as I find myself stumbling backwards. Vandryss could take me right now, but she’s too busy staggering away herself, visibly limping from the long, deep gash I’ve carved right through the leather of her fitted britches and the flesh beneath. Once I’ve righted myself again I chance a look at the sword, and while it’s still a little muddy despite the rain, I can see blood’s getting washed away too. A pretty decent amount, in fact.
Vandryss drops her knife as she keeps staggering back from me, her now free hand going straight to the wound, but her eyes are locked on me. Narrowed to slits now, I can still make out the green fire flashing between her lids, and her face is filled with rage and pure hate. She’s surprised, I realise after a moment, amazed I actually wounded her, she clearly never expected I’d actually be able to draw her blood, never mind twice in the space of a minute. It’s already starting to pour down the side of her face, although the nick’s too far to the left for it to get in her eye, which might have given me an additional advantage going forward. That said, it’s not doing any favours for her mood.
“You … you massive bitch, I can’t … is that dwarven steel?”
Raising Hefdred again, I point it towards her like I did before, looking down the line of the blade. There ain’t so much as a scratch on it from that little wrestling match. “Best in the world.” I give a little smirk as I answer her.
She watches me with fresh caution for a long moment, clearly re-evaluating now. “There’s more to you than I thought, clearly.” She grits her sharp teeth and takes her hand away from her wounded thigh, giving it a little shake and then rubbing her fingers down her side to get rid of the blood as she takes up a two-handed grip on her sword. Then she shifts her weight and puts it on her bad leg, and it doesn’t buckle like I would’ve expected. There’s the subtlest tightening in her jaw and narrowing of her left eye, but otherwise it’s like she’s not even hurt. Okay … that’s interesting …
Her attack’s so fast I almost don’t see it. One beat she’s just squaring up for whatever’s coming, then she’s just surging towards me, visibly blurring now as she whips to the left and then right with startling speed. In the end it’s my surprise that actually saves me, reckon if I’d actually reacted to that first feint I might’ve been caught out, but instead when she comes at me on my right and flicks her sword in high I parry it essentially without thinking about it first. A whole youth of muscle-memory from years of intensive training and then close to two more decades of living everyday with a sword in my hand means I block her attack by pure instinct. As I batter her blade aside I lunge forward under her deflected stroke and slash for her exposed chest with my own sword, but she’s already gone, dodging aside before I can cut anything but air.
My leading foot skids over the wet grass and I just let myself go down with it, and this is enough to save me again as Vandryss tries to cut me down from behind, her blade whistling harmlessly right over the top of my head. I go down on one knee as I start to turn to counter whatever she’s got coming next, and as I spin, fighting to get my other foot planted behind me now, I just whip Hefdred round in a wild, unfocused haymaker where I figure she might be. This catches her intended attack mostly by accident, but my stroke’s hard enough to send her stumbling back again with her sword loudly buzzing in her hand. She scowls as she fights to right herself, and the fresh pain in her face tells me she’s clearly rattled by the jarring vibrations from that hit. Again it gives me enough breathing room to recover as I force myself into a low ready stance with my sword held low.
The way she peddles aside as she rights herself again tells me she’s not quite so ignorant of that thigh-wound as she’s been working on making out – she’s a tough cookie, then, and definitely unexpectedly powerful, but not so much that she’s some kind of strange, unbeatable super-beast. She spits towards me as she plants her feet again, matching my stance, and it’s clear she’s gonna wait for me to make a move this time.
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Lowering Hefdred a little more, I stick its tip a couple of inches into the sodden turf between us as I take a half-step forward, keeping my eyes locked on hers the whole time, and she’s so busy watching mine that she doesn’t realise what I’m doing. So when I whip the blade up fast and hard in front of her as I start my charge, a wet, filthy splash of displaced mud catches her in the face and she hisses in furious distress as she stumbles backwards again. Her free hand flails at her face to clear the blinding mess away from her eyes while her sword flails unguided in front of her in a desperate ploy to try and ward me off, but I’m too focused to be dissuaded.
Battering her sword aside with the casual ease of swatting a cold-drowsed fly in late autumn, I’m not even thinking about trying to fight anymore, I just want this done. So I cock Hefdred back down low and tight and as I close in on her as she drags a clump of mud away and tries to blink through it I just thrust forward with all the strength I can muster. There’s that resistance I’ve grown used to with leather armour, but her leather breastplate’s no match for the force and momentum I’ve built up and the sharp, hard steel of my blade, so I ram the whole length of my sword right through her chest. I don’t stop until the hilt meets resistance from her solar plexus, so for a long moment as I stop there, panting with the effort, she’s hung an inch or two off the ground at the end of my extended arms.
Spitting blood, Vandryss tilts her head back for a long moment with a croaking rasp as her sword slips from her fingers and thumps harmlessly into the grass below, before giving her chin a hard jerk and looking back down at me again. She blinks again through her filthy hair now that the worst of the mud’s been washed clear, and this time she’s able to focus enough on me I can see the hot blaze of her eyes again, flashing brighter than ever now. She coughs, spitting up more blood again, and my arms are starting to weaken so I just let them drop, Vandryss’ body falling with them. Her feet touch the ground and they’re still strong enough to hold her up, which takes me a little by surprise as I let her support my sword now while I take a long step forward to bring my face close to hers.
“How does that feel, you evil cunt?”
Vandryss just blinks a few more times, still trying to get a bead on me through the lingering remnants of the mud, but her eyes are meeting mine well enough now, and as she bares her clenched teeth this time she starts to growl. Finally she lets out a decidedly winded snarl and the kick that follows takes me entirely by surprise, I admit I really wasn’t expecting her to be able to do anything like that with nearly three feet of sharp dwarven steel rammed right through her.
Her boot smashes hard into my gut and it’s all I can do to hold onto my sword as I’ve pummelled back with astounding force. I swear, it feels to me like I’ve taken a trebuchet’s boulder full in the stomach, the force of it knocks me full back right off my feet and I must fly a good ten feet before landing in the wet grass and skidding on my back. At least the landing’s soft, but my whole stomach feels like it’s been forced right back through my spine, I’m astounded my spine didn’t just snap the moment she kicked me, and it’s as much a surprise I’ve still got my sword clutched in my right hand.
I lie there for what feels like a long time indeed, rain just washing over the lenses of my goggles from the tumultuous, broiling darkness overhead, lightning flashes popping off in bright wet blurs I have to blink at in random spots of my vision. After a seeming eternity I’m finally able to drag in a fresh breath and I try to sit up again as I start gasping and coughing, but my guts protest instantly, feeling like I’ve ruptured something from the sheer, aching pain that I’m feeling right through my midsection. That can’t have just been a kick, surely? She must’ve hit me with something …
Unable to sit up, I just brush the rain the rain from the lenses while I raise my head, slowly realising half of it’s my winded tears underneath as I fight to focus now. Vandryss is still on her feet, but she’s staggering again, almost doubled over now as she grasps at the substantial wound in her chest, gawking somewhat as she casts about, struggling to retrieve her sword … shit, that was right through her heart, how is this monstrous thing still fucking standing?
Finally managing to drag her sword up out of the mud, Vandryss looks up towards me again, eyes still narrowed while she spits another mouthful of blood. She genuinely looks like something I’d imagine from a campfire horror story, this is something out my nightmares coming for me now, and seeing it gives me a little fresh strength as my fight-or-flight responses kick in. Even though it feels like my guts are being pierced by red hot pokers and my back’s made of shattered glass, I manage to sit up at last, and as I double over, grasping my battered stomach with my free hand I drag in the deepest breath I can manage. It’s nowhere near deep as I’d like and my ribs protest screaming the whole time, but it gives me enough of a third wind to force myself up onto my knees at least, although I get the feeling this is the best I’m gonna manage for a while. Gods help me trying to actually fight like this, I’m just preying that wound I gave her might prove as crippling to her right now.
Something explodes behind her and the whole courtyard lights up so bright this time that I can almost see the white flash of whatever it is through Vandryss, I swear I see her bones silhouetted through the rest of her for a split. A beat later a great blast of wind ploughs through her from behind and she stumbles badly while I’m almost knocked right back down on my own arse again, while a great wash of displaced rainwater splashes me hard in the face and my vision’s washed out again for a moment.
Jamming Hefdred into the turf beside me, I’m able to drag myself up onto one feet, and I use my free hand to wipe my goggles clear as I focus on what’s in front of me now. Vandryss righting herself too, and she growls something under her breath I can’t identify, although it sounds vaguely familiar enough that after a moment I recognise one of Yeslee’s Tektehran curses. Her legs wobble for a beat, then she drops to one knee, stabbing her own sword in the ground like I’ve done to keep herself from faceplanting while her other hand splashes in the wet mud in front of her, some of it hitting her in the face. Another oath escapes her lips and she looks at me again, eyes blazing brighter than ever.
Glaring stone cold murder at me now, I reckon.
Dragging Hefdred free of the mud again, I take it up in both my hands now, holding it in a worryingly clumsy guard in front of me as I try hard not to just double over on the spot. I’m amazed I don’t just drop the sword immediately, and when I put on the fiercest glare I can muster I’m further surprised by how solid it feels. Thorin knows the rest of me feels like a gods-awful bluff right now …
Then the air just opens beside Vandryss and I recognise one of those inexplicable magic portals I can’t quite see, instantly replaced by a somewhat windswept, ragged form in robes, cloak and hood. I can make out enough of their features to see they’re female, with long unruly hair under their hood, although it’s seeing the corkscrewing staff in their hands, looking somewhat splintered now as it smokes, that helps me realise who it is. This is the best look I’ve had at their wizard, and as I’m able to make out more of their face thanks to these miraculous lenses, I realise they’re a human woman who might be approaching middle age, although she’s aging impressively well despite it. Then again she’s got great bones, I can imagine her still looking good when she’s an old woman … if she ever gets that far, that is.
She ain’t alone, either – she’s got hold of the orc, Granzun, who’s on both knees himself, although I think that might be as much due to the fact that he’s clearly already been through it as whatever just happened behind Vandryss. His still impressive leather armour has been badly torn and shredded in various places, and a few of the blades he’s clearly been caught with even look to have drawn blood here and there, although less than I’d like. Mostly he just seems stunned, his head lolling some while his eyes are unfocused now, and I think he’s taken a bad hit from whatever it was that, I suspect, this woman just did. Seeing this, I realise I’m lucky to still be up, or maybe it’s just that I wasn’t as close …
“Time to go!” The woman hisses now, laying a hand on Vandryss’ shoulder.
“What … no!” Vandrys spits her words out with a finer spray of blood this time, but there’s no less venom than before. “I want this puffed up bitch.” She locks her eyes on mine again, still narrowed and blazing, and tries to get up again.
Seeing it, I try to force a little more strength into my own legs too, enough that I might be able to pick myself up enough to get my other foot under me too, but it ain’t coming. If she does charge me now I realise it’ll be miracle enough if I can just swing my sword well enough to stop anything she might throw at me.
“Van, fight’s done, we don’t have time for this.” The wizard hisses, looking at me now. I can’t make out any real colours through my goggles, everything’s in slightly rosy-tinted black and white, but I can see how piercing those eyes are clear enough. She’s a smart one, being so talented a mage as she clearly is she might even be smart as Gael. Wouldn’t surprise me. “I don’t think we can win this one. Not right now.”
“What the fuck are you talking about –” Vandryss reaches for the woman’s hand, I suspect she’s going to try shaking it off, but in that same moment she sets her staff against her shoulder while she reaches out with her other hand and lays it on the orc’s shoulder, then mutters under her breath. They’re gone before my opponent can finish her sentence, and for a moment there’s a big empty gap in the air before the displaced rain splashes down to fill it.
For a long moment I just stay there, watching the trampled spot in the grass where they were, making sense of it in my head, then what little strength I had left in my arms finally gives out and I let Hefdred slump in front of me … moments before my legs start to give out and I just let the sword go entirely. I just fall forward into the grass in front of me, suddenly feeling impossibly tired and so very, very sore, never mind my battered stomach. I feel like every inch of me’s been whaled on with something big and monstrous hard.
So I just stay where I am, doubled over in the grass with my face half-pressed into the sodden ground now, just enough of my mouth clear I can sort of breathe without inhaling mud in the process. My breath comes in a rattling wheeze, although it might just be my lungs working on my newly-cracked ribs or whatever, I don’t know … mostly it just hurts too much for me to really be sure.
A somewhat shaky hand touches my back and from somewhere far away I sort of hear a body splashing down at my side, someone dropping to their knees beside me, I think. A voice, too, although I’m having trouble recognising it. Words … it takes me a few moments to realise what they even mean …
“Kesla? Kesla, are you all right? It’s Gael, are you … oh gods … please say something …”