The wind is howling and the snow is whirling, what better time for some Shadow Wolf?
This is my weekly serial arc. Follow this link for the first post.
Want to re-read last week’s? Here you go.
And finally, a helpful guide.
“Torvul!” I shouted, my words filling the chamber and echoing down the myriad tunnels leading from it.
The Devout leader turned, slowly, as if he almost could not be bothered with us. Cadaverously thin, his armour seemed to big for him, almost comical if not for his mystic puissance. His deep set eyes shone as he regarded us.
“Ragnar, is it?” Torvul began, lips twisting arrogantly. “First, you will address me as Lord Torvul. Second, you–“
My eyes just registered a metallic glint flit through the torchlight, like a water falling in the dark. Torvul staggered and fire blossomed around his head.
For a moment, no one moved. Then, as Torvul began to topple, Thyra’s spear took a big Devout warrior in the chest, pushing him back into his fellows. Harald Magnison roared and strode forward. The room erupted as bodies crashed into each other, followed by shouts and screams, and the sound of metal on metal.
One of the would-be Devout charged me, swinging a vicious looking sword. I caught the blade with my axe-blade, using the momentum of his own swing to pull him off balance and turn him. Then I drove the backspike into his skull and snarled as another threw himself at me. All along the line we clashed. With Thyra and Renoit in the front we were winning, but the Devout had numbers.
Worse yet, I had a feeling that Torvul was still alive. Murith had used a munition that would reduce a mere mortal to burning chunks, but Torvul was ascended and one of the Devout to boot. I was still smarting from our last encounter and wanted to make sure to kill him before he could recover. Honourable? likely not, but very sensible.
One of the true Devout, a big woman clad heat to toe in shining steel fell back, blood leaking, as Renoit’s thin blade slid through a tiny gap between her heaume and gorget. Harald, bleeding from several wounds, bellowed and shouldered into her. This created a gap in the scrum, and I leapt.
One of the Devout managed to catch me with a blade as a rammed my way through them. I let the blow turn me, feeling the blade bite into my flesh, but little pain. That is part of being Twiceborn, pain, physical pain at least, is as nothing. I spun and slammed my hammer into the man, sending him reeling back into the melee.
As I turned and continued to run, I saw Torvul rising. Desperation lent me swiftness as I charged, leaping over a broken pillar, all the while expecting Torvul to invoke some fell magic and send me flying. Instead, he brought me to a halt by grabbing Madame Glorianna battered form and pulling her to him like a shield.
“One more step fool, and she dies!” Torvul snarled.
Before I could respond I heard the distinctive sound of an arbalest string as Murith fired again.