CHAPTER FIVE—CROSSED SCIMITARS

There was a commotion up ahead, but Shiro couldn’t make out what was happing because of the outcropping of mountain rocks and the bend up ahead, but he knew Debaku had revealed himself.

Suddenly a battle horn was blown three times in quick succession.

From where he was standing, Shiro could see every man in the group tense up and as they readied their weapons, glancing about for signs of attackers.

But none came, because Shiro didn’t move. The men around the wagons held their positions.

And then the horn blew three more times. The man on the horse in the back uttered some orders and six men trailed him to the front of the caravan.

That’s when Shiro revealed himself from his hiding place in the rocks.

“There’s one!” a guard said, pointing, and four men rushed forward to meet him.

Shiro lunged forward and at the last second he changed trajectory and killed the man on the right, weaved between the group and then slashed another from behind on shoulder.

Best to separate them and attack one at a time!

He ran up the road, taking one man at a time as he was pursued.

“Shiro?” a man called. “SHIRO!”

He cut another man down, glanced at Ali in the caged wagon and then ducked behind the first wagon as a guard shot an arrow his way. It missed and went into the cage, the prisoners there squawking like hens trying to get away from a fox that had entered the coup.

Shiro reached down and grabbed a rock. When he came back up, a guard lunged at him with his pike, but back-stepped and threw the rock in his face. It hit the pikeman in the eye and he dropped his pole arm and smothered himself in his own hands. Shiro then cut him down, crouching low and narrowly missing another arrow shaft.

He needed to take that man down.

“STOP HIM!” a guard shouted. “KILL HIM NOW!”

Running in a circle around the two men, he charged the man with the bow. His eyes widened and he dropped the weapon, but before he could bring up his scimitar to defend himself, Shiro had already cut him down in a spray of blood.

Their numbers were visibly thinning now. Shiro whirled around to take care of the two men he had circumnavigated and cut each one down in turn.

As he glanced ahead, half a dozen of the guards and soldiers were running from the front of the caravan where Debaku’s blade flashed and into the lower hills.

Another guard came forward--a huge man with a massive sword came at him, screamed as he sliced through the air with his scimitar.

Shiro dodged the attack.

He returned the favor and was surprised when the big man parried his attack. Shiro had to break off when another guard came running in, slashing at him with his sword, screaming with each swing.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Shiro jumped back, their swords flashing in the night amidst the firelight from the torches ensconced in the wagons. Another guard came up behind Shiro. He was getting overwhelmed as all three of them closed in, swords flashing with deadly blows.

He dodged them, parried and jumped to the side. They closed in and Shiro ran ten paces, whirled and met the blade of the large guard, his turban askew on his head. Shiro wasn’t accustomed to fighting with a scimitar. They were larger blades that were used in chopping strikes rather than quick slashes.

Knowing he should have devoted more time to these swords, he continually tried to get in close to his enemy’s for a quick deadly slash, but his sword, heavy as it was, slowed him down.

When he came in close to the big guard his slash against the man’s chest didn’t penetrate his rough leather vest.

Blinking, Shiro stumbled back as pain from the man’s head bash enveloped the front of his skull. Shiro was faster now. These guards should have been a simple thing, but the combination of fighting with a scimitar and the elite aspect of these soldiers negated those effects.

At least, that was what he thought.

Changing his approach, Shiro stopped attempting to get in close. He back-stepped several times, all three men closing.

Glancing behind, more were coming to assist them. Shiro would be surrounded in moments.

Needing to take the fight to the guards, he rushed forward suddenly, surprising the man on his right. Coming in with arcing slices, he parried the man’s blade and then cut his hand off. He cried out and clutched at his spurting stump.

Shiro didn’t even blink as the other two guards, distracted by their falling comrade stopped pursuing him. As the big guard glanced up at him, Shiro kicked the dirt, putting rocks and grit into his opponent’s face.

He growled, stepped back as Shiro exchanged sword flashes with the third guard. Coming in close, as was his style, he eschewed using his scimitar and elbowed the guard in the face. As he stumbled back from the blow, Shiro finished him with a powerful sword strike across the shoulder.

The big one bellowed as he swung his scimitar at Shiro. He stepped to the side, turned and slashed the big guard in the back. He cried out, reaching for the wound and ran forward to his other two comrades.

They all looked on at Shiro, holding his scimitar forward with the hilt held low in his hands, the blade dripping with viscous blood.

Shiro did not advance. Instead he looked on with solid intent to kill these three men. They backed away and ran, leaving the road altogether.

Glancing about, and finding now one else to fight, he lowered his guard.

“Shiro!”

Shiro glanced over at his friend in the wagon. “Ali,” he said. “Are you all right?” When he went to the door, he tried to open it, but of course there was a heavy lock.

Ali laughed. “I’m going to Kosskal to be tortured and probably executed by the sultan’s men. But other than that, I am wonderful.” He glanced down and pointed at a dead guard with an emphatic finger. “Get the keys, quick!”

Shiro unlocked the cage.

Ali climbed out, jumped into the road and immediately bent down to pick up a sword. “Now I feel much better with cold steel in my hands. Shiro, it is good to see you.” He came close and embraced Shiro with one arm.

“Hey!” one the prisoners from the other wagon called. “Hey! Get us out of here!”

“Yes! We can help you!”

Shiro and Ali both went to the other wagon. “What are your crimes?” Shiro asked.

“Well, I am a thief, and Yon here is said to be a spy. They’re going to torture us. Let us out!”

Shiro nodded and unlocked the cage. The two men quickly picked up weapons. “Thank you, stranger. We are going now.”

“Then go!” Ali said. “Don’t wait around to be captured again, you fools.”

One of the men laughed and they set out as a pair.

Ali then glanced to the side, his eyes widening and his mouth hung open. “Is that…?”

“Yes. The Black Cobra of Mar’a Thul,” Shiro said.

“And he’s…? He’s…?”

“I am with Shiro,” he said clearly. “We have come to rescue you.”

Ali looked at Shiro, shock on his face.

“It is a long story,” Shiro said.

“You must tell it,” Ali demanded.

“Actually,” Shiro said, “It is not long, but I will tell you later. For now, we must get to safety.”

Ali nodded vigorously as he glanced between Shiro and Debaku. “I wholeheartedly agree, my friend.”

They left the road, heading for the hills in the quiet night.