The scene sent a rage through the warrior that he had not felt in years. Of all the men he had killed in his lifetime, some deserved it, others did not, but it had never felt personal before. He wanted to scream about honor and the ways of the warrior, yet not a single word left his lips. The warrior instead did something that would change his life forever.
The two men were a good ten feet away, but with freakish speed for a man his size—or for any man, for that matter—he closed the distance in a fraction of a second. Gripping the wolf-head axe, he never remembered drawing it as he slashed across the throat of the man to his left. Spinning like a tornado, he continued the axe’s path in a complete circle and gashed open the belly of the other before the first even fell.
Warm blood sprayed across the alley walls. The first man’s eyes were bugged out of his head, as if someone were pushing them out of their sockets from inside his skull. His tongue hung grotesquely from a wide-open mouth that was trying to scream but only produced a sickening gurgle while his body hung backward. Then those bulging eyes looked straight up as his whole body finally tipped over. The second man simply lay draped over the poor boy like a dripping sack of gore with his intestines strung to the side.
The warrior spun toward the last would-be threat only to find his situation was not so much better than his friends’. The girl appeared to have pulled two daggers out of thin air and was slashing in a circular pattern around the third leather’s head, a tactic Morcel had seen many times to throw an opponent off balance.
The trained mercenary made a quick hand movement to the inside of his leather armor and produced a dagger of his own, then slashed twice at the girl in what appeared to be one clean, skilled movement. The first slash caught nothing but air as the girl easily ducked under the lightning-quick strike. The second slash clanged loudly as it was solidly intercepted by the girl’s own dagger.
The parry was followed by five snakelike strikes of her own, three of which found their home right across the man’s face. Knowing her strikes were true, she immediately jumped back, one knee on the ground while holding both daggers crossed in front of her face—a clear defensive stance, waiting to see if he’d counter.
Howling in agony, he stumbled backwards as he waved his dagger blindly in the general direction of the girl. She did not pursue her attacker, but watched him fumble around, covered in his own blood. Watching him, she waited...measured...measured. The very second he slowed down from flailing at nothing, she sent her dagger through the air like an arrow shot from a long bow. It buried deep into his eye socket. She then closed the distance with lightning speed and quickly retrieved her dagger from its temporary home, slashing across his throat twice with her remaining blade, all with lightning-quick precision. His body just jolted, remained upright for a second longer, then collapsed to the ground. She whirled around furiously to be sure there were no other immediate threats.
What did I just see? That was impossible! Shaking his head in disbelief, Morcel focused his attention on the girl, who was now floating toward him with all the grace of a panther sneaking through tall grass. All common logic told him he couldn’t be in any danger. She was just a young girl, but his internal warrior instincts—instincts built up through many battles—had him on edge, and he could not ignore the alarm going off in his head.
Before he’d even realized it, she was face-to-face with him. The girl, still gripping both bloody daggers, was rather unassuming: slight of build, with long, black hair flowing down past her shoulders, but her eyes were every bit as intense as Morcel’s. Even in this dark alley he could see her brilliant, crystal blue eyes burning with intensity.
The two met each other’s gaze unblinkingly. Deep blue crystals locked with shiny green emeralds. “Get out of here quickly,” the warrior rumbled, not taking his eyes off her for a second. She held his gaze a few more seconds, which felt like minutes, then bowed deeply. She clearly was not afraid of him, and he could not help but wonder if fate somehow had a sense of humor. It seemed, in hindsight, he had helped the one person in the village who needed it the least. She glided towards the boy, who had not moved a twitch through any of this, then suddenly twirled to face Morcel again. “No!” she screamed.
Crash! White-hot pain shot though the back of the large warrior’s head. It jolted down his spine and sent dizzying waves of nausea through his whole body. Wha-what just happened? Who…have to… His mind could not hold on to a coherent thought. The world seemed to spin all around as the ground came up to meet him with a thud.
Clinging to consciousness by a thread, he watched as the girl appeared to be sprinting along the wall sideways as she disappeared into the night. “Go after the girl!” came a muffled voice from behind him. It sounded far away to his barely conscious ears. Now even farther away he heard someone saying, “Kill the boy and take the traitor.”
“What are we going to do with him?” came a fuzzy reply.
“We will say he attacked one of us. No one will question everyone’s word against his. Soon he’ll be just another slave.”
*