Tis Thursday and the hour of the wolf is upon us.
This is my weekly serial, if you are interested in reading the first series here it is.
Here is the first post of Red Fangs.
Catch up on last week’s post.
Seven young men, all eager for a taste of power, all desperate from a hard life in Cliffshadow, came at me when Curran spoke. I did not draw my weapons.
A swift youth with a scarred face came at me from the side, brandishing a deadly myrhnese stiletto and aiming for my leg. He was fast, but my boot was quicker and I sent him sprawling with a kick. I kicked his knife into an alley.
I heard a club whistling, and I shifted, turning and stepping back. The owner, a short, muscular youth with a ludicrous pair of red fangs tattooed on his chest swung again. I caught the club in my left gauntlet. My eyes met his just long enough for me to smile and then send my right crashing into his face.
The next two were on me even before his body hit the ground. One had a club, the other had an old sword. The first came in swinging, while the second lunged at me from an a different angle. I spun, caught the arm of the would-be swordsman and flung him into the one with the club. The collided with a satisfying thud, and fell to the ground in a heap.
I felt something tickle my ribs. I looked down to see a wide-eyed boy holding a broken blade, looking like he’d been robbed. I cleared my throat to gain his attention and when he looked at me I smiled. He did not like what he saw. As he turned to run, I hooked his leg with my foot and pulled, tripping him.
I knee’d the boy with the bad tattoo in the face as he tried to get back to his feet and then stepped forward to meet the other two. These two were bigger.
“You sure its worth it?” I asked. “Curran killed his sister. How long before he turns on you?”
“I’ll kill you both if you turn on me!” snarled Curran.
“See,” I said. “A leader like that will lead you to your death, if he doesn’t kill you himself.”
“Fuck you, Nordan,” said one of the Gangers, a big lad.
I let my axe drop into my hand. His eyes went wide at the sight of Runed steel, shining in the muted light of Cliffshadow.
“Take your friends and go home,” I said, stepping between the two of them, my eyes on Curran.
My eyes met the Vampires. I looked at him. He looked at my axe.
“You killed your own sister!” I said. “For that, I am going to end you.”
“Dog of a Northman,” he hissed, showing his fangs. “Die!”
With inhuman swiftness he stepped in, both clubs coming down in a crushing overhand swing. I stepped back, and they slammed into the wood of the boardwalk. Everything splintered, including his weapons. I stepped back in, swinging at him but he rolled out of the way, looked at me with wide eyes and turned, sprinting away with desperate speed. Armoured, I could not hope to match him.
My axe hit him squarely in the back, just above his waist.