At the apex of his prodigious leap, King Edd brought his sword back with both hands gripping tight on the hilt, his body arched in such a way that when he swung the weapon he would double forward, putting every ounce of force he could muster into the blow. A strike Redmane himself wouldn’t have wanted to be the target of.

  Fortunately he was a spectator.

  Livia, at the last instant, realized something was coming up behind her at speed. But she turned too late to do anything about it. Edd cleaved into her back from left shoulder to right hip. Blood flew from the wound, and her Gnosis-wings flickered and went out.

  King Edd clipped the Winged Archer’s wings.

  Livia fell to the earth, landing face-first, her bow a few feet away. Out of reach. Her arms shook as she struggled to pick herself up off the ground, even as King Edd landed nearby and broke into a charge the instant his feet touched the ground, blade held low, ready to finish her with one more heavy cut.

  Arnth Nere was at least peripherally aware of what was going on, though he had much to deal with. An entire clan of demi-humans, barely diminished in numbers even though his slender blade bisected or decapitated at least one every time it swung. And a smaller but no less dangerous family of giant boars, who charged him, circled round and charged again, the lot of them carving out a vaguely star-shaped pattern in the dirt, with the fencer as its center point.

  He was moving toward Livia with care, one step at a time. But when Edd knocked her out of the sky and then sprinted in for the kill, he realized he’d have to go faster.

  Flicker

  A little demi-human struck Arnth in the leg with his spear, and he shifted through space in an instant. Vanishing and reappearing next to Livia’s prone body in time to intercept King Edd with a perfectly timed parry that made their blades ring against each other like a great iron bell.

  Interesting. Redmane was unaware Flicker could be used in this way. Perhaps he’d leveled the Skill up beyond the basic way the Sicari utilized it. Or the Sicari themselves weren’t especially creative in the use of their Skills. Either possibility seemed likely.

  Arnth’s thrusting sword struck Edd’s broad blade back with surprising force. The demi-human King was wide open for a counterattack.

  But the fencer didn’t take it. Instead, he grabbed Livia Caelestis and ran.

  Arnth Nere must have known he wouldn’t make it far in a running race with giant boars.

  Perhaps he knew and attempted anyway, accepting even the smallest chance of saving a comrade’s life.

  Redmane found it commendable. Stupid, but commendable.

  Arnth Nere took off as if shot from a cannon, sprinting faster than any natural human. And the boars charged after him as one, indifferent to the opportunistic demi-humans grabbing onto their fur to hitch a ride. Some attempted to climb onto the boars’ backs, some simply held onto a fistful of wiry fur with their feet planted on the boars’ sides, weapons raised as they howled and screeched after the fleeing Imbued.

  King Edd leapt onto the back of a huge boar, mounting it like a warhorse, holding his blade out to the side as he crouched low to reduce the wind resistance, his dark hair streaming behind him. Somehow the crown of little skulls didn’t fly off his head.

  Redmane had to ‘fly’ along beside the group. It wasn’t truly flying, as Astral Stalker rendered him incorporeal, but he moved fast enough to keep up, nonetheless.

  Whatever Skill the Imbued used to run with such fleetness waned, and the boars gained on him. Arnth glanced back, gritted his teeth and leapt high over the back of a boar that tried to charge and cut him off, his legs wheeling in midair as if he were still trying to run. And run he did, the instant his feet touched the ground again, fueled by a fresh burst of Gnosis.

  A demi-human pulled what looked like a bolas off his belt, whipped it around in the air and sent it whizzing at Arnth’s ankles, but the Imbued had a Flicker ready to deploy. When the weapon touched his feet, he blinked out and re-appeared further ahead of his pursuers.

  The boars fanned out, spreading their formation, the ones on the far ends surging forward to enclose their prey, to limit his options. They were steering him, Redmane realized, shepherding him away from the mostly flat, lightly wooded area, and toward a patch of rocky hills thick with trees and overgrowth.

  His high vantage made it easy for Redmane to understand their plan. They would push him into the difficult terrain and then encircle it, surrounding him and cutting off the possibility of retreat from all directions.

  And it looked like it was going to work.

  Arnth ran straight into it, and while he made his way through the dense obstacles with remarkable speed, he wasn’t fast enough to beat the boars running all the way around him to the left and right on easier ground. The demi-humans dismounted from the beasts and brandished their weapons, hooting and hollering into the thicket from every direction.

  Only when the Imbued emerged from the treeline on the other side did he realize they had corralled him.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Sweat glazed his face, which shone at first with fear, and then with a sort of wry acceptance. He faced King Edd again, who was dismounting the boar he rode on to approach the Imbued with a gamely smile, his broadsword held casually in one hand.

  “Tell us,” said the demi-human King. “Why have you come here?”

  “By order of the Provisional Governor,” he said, in a breathless tone.

  “So someone told you to come to our forest and slay us, yes?”

  “That’s the long and short of it.”

  King Edd grinned. “Well, at least you make no excuses for yourself.”

  Arnth Nere’s chest rose and fell dramatically with his labored breathing. He still had Livia slung over his shoulder like a haversack. His grip on her tightened slightly as the demi-human King drew near. Redmane could tell he was thinking fast. Trying to come up with a way out of this situation.

  “What say you and I duel it out,” said Arnth.

  King Edd’s eyebrow rose.

  “You and me. No cheats, no help from others. If I win you let us go in peace and I vow we won’t return.”

  “And if you lose?” asked Edd.

  Arnth Nere shrugged. “You got us already. It’s up to you.”

  King Edd’s smile grew. His yellow eyes glittered with malice as he considered the possibilities. He seemed uncommonly intelligent for a demi-human. Surely he was smart enough to understand that even if Arnth Nere swore to leave and never return, Taracon would send another Coterie to Erdu Forest without delay.

  “If you lose…” said the King. “Then we peel off that fine hide of yours for boots and belts, and perhaps a scabbard for this sword of mine. The woman can return to your big city and tell them all what became of you.”

  The Imbued swallowed hard, nodded. “You’ll spare Livia either way. You savages are full of surprises.”

  “You humans think you invented honor,” said the King.

  Arnth gently laid Livia down, ensuring she was out of immediate harm's way. He straightened, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension that had built up during the chase and drawing his slender sword, its tip pointed toward the ground. His stance was relaxed yet poised, like a coiled spring.

  King Edd, in contrast, stood with his feet planted firmly apart, his broadsword resting on his shoulder. The weapon was massive, its blade wide and heavy, designed to cleave through armor and muscle and bone alike. Edd's wiry muscles rippled beneath his skin, packed with power well-concealed by a deceptively lanky frame.

  The Imbued fought for his own skin. Literally. But he remained composed nonetheless.

  The demi-human King looked like he was about to enjoy an unexpected but pleasant game.

  Around them, the demi-human clan drew in closer to watch, forming a loose ring around Arnth and Edd. The boars appeared to understand what was going on, either that or the demi-humans had some way of calming them down, because they did not disrupt what was taking place in the circle.

  Arnth and Edd circled each other. Watching and waiting.

  The fencer spotted a chance to attack, streaked in behind the flashing point of his sword, and the demi-human king met him in the middle of the circle.

  Redmane observed with a keen interest. Sword fights were like conversations, he thought. The attacks were the questions, and the dodges and parries were the answers. Sometimes one combatant would carry the conversation with an unbroken string of inquiries, only for his opponent to switch the line of questioning back upon the attacker. And then his turn came to defend his positions, literally.

  Arnth’s arguments were direct, precise, much like the implement he used to make them. His thrusting sword moved in straight lines, sometimes diagonal, weaving through space to find openings and then dart in like a serpent.

  King Edd was a wheel of death. His broadsword fell upon Arnth in arcs, from above or below, or from side to side. He had an uppercut swing which looked like it could take the Imbued right off his feet if it ever connected. If it didn’t cleave him in half first.

  Arnth Nere did his utmost to make sure that didn’t happen.

  He didn’t use Flicker again. Perhaps he was low on Gnosis. But even without it he put on an impressive show of skill, always an inch away from the blade of King Edd as it whooshed by, always poised to counterattack. The crowd of demi-humans watched in intense silence as the Imbued fought for his life, ducking and weaving away from the weighty swings of Edd’s broadsword, all his concentration directed at it.

  King Edd noticed the depth of his focus.

  So he hit him with something he wasn’t looking at.

  Arnth slipped to the side of another uppercut slash, and King Edd’ fist slammed into his temple.

  His sword flew from his hand.

  Sweat flew from his face.

  A few teeth flew from his mouth.

  Arnth Nere spun all the way around and landed face first in the dirt.

  For a moment, it was quiet. And then a cheer erupted from all around.

  One of King Edd’s followers approached him, keeping a cautious eye on the unconscious Imbued. “What do you wanna do with em?”

  King Edd grinned down at Arnth and rested the blade of his sword on his shoulder again, the other hand on his hip. “We do what we said we’d do. Send the woman back when she’s recovered. Take the man and make some boots out of him or something. We’re honorable demi-humans, are we not?”

  “Aye,” said the other, though he didn’t seem sure about what the word ‘honorable’ meant.

  Edd turned to leave, but before he did so he paused to look around for someone. Redmane, probably. He had been conspicuously absent since setting them into motion, after all.

  The King’s gaze swept right past Redmane, but he saw no one. Which made him smirk, shrug his shoulders and turn toward home. Behind him, a group of demi-humans gathered around Livia Caelestis and Arnth Nere to tie them up and toss them on the back of a boar for transportation.

  As he watched the crowd disperse, Redmane’s mind caught on the image of the little demi-human contemplating the word ‘honorable.’

  Honor. Fidelity to one’s companions, valuing their lives above your own. A trait worthy of respect. But it felt paradoxical to respect the coming of those whose intent was naught but murder and plunder.

  Murderers and plunderers who talked themselves into thinking they were heroes.

  Like the farmer who spares one livestock animal from the slaughter, keeps it as a pet and calls it a friend. Even as he butchers the rest of its family for sale at the market.

  For some reason he is troubled by the blood staining his hands, as if he alone among all living things should not survive by killing and eating. He tells himself that he kills only out of necessity, comes up with some sort of convoluted lie to justify his perfectly natural behavior. Then, once the lie has settled into place, the anxiety which caused its creation relaxes and the man becomes something worse than an animal, something with an ever-growing appetite, backed by a story crafted to numb the moral pain.

  It isn’t murder if it’s the cost of doing business. It isn’t plunder if it’s the price of progress.

  Redmane would rather the Numantians openly call themselves pirates. That would be more worthy of respect.

  Perhaps one day he would lead by example in that regard.

  It would begin here, in Volos.

  And the next step forward resided in this very forest.

  The Seal of the Gryphon.

  PATREON