Chronicles of The Life-Taker, pt 6!
The Slaughter, pt 2
Hello out there, I hope everyone is doing well!
Next week I’ll have some comic-related updates, but this week is all about a certain angry Vultaikan.
Here goes Part 6 of Kurzhon's adventures (part 5 seen here).
CHAPTER 6
“Guardsmen Are No True Men At All”
~ Kurzhon the Life-Taker
* * *
Wakely had been impressed when the guards had surged forward, showing no signs of fear or intimidation, to engage his large traveling companion.
They don’t know who he is, Wakely thought as he smiled, then he mentally shook himself. He had work to do, he couldn’t simply stand around gawking!
As the fight raged on, neither side landing a strike, Wakely threw himself onto the body of the fallen Steward.
“Somebody help this man!” he cried, proud of how he could take his voice just to the edge of hysterical.
As he feigned checking a man who was clearly dead for life signs, his hands roamed over the Steward’s clothing, into every pocket and seam.
While there was little coin, there was actual paper tender. Wakely preferred such in a tense situation like this. He was able to deftly tuck the paper into his sleeve with no one noticing.
Of course, there were more interesting sights to see at the moment. The clang of steel on steel rang out again and again in the morning air.
The growing crowd stood mostly paralyzed, with the odd cry for someone to fetch a Drake repeated from time to time.
As the battle continued, Wakely threw himself onto the Squire’s body with a shout of anguish.
“Squire Bartholomew! Noooo!” he cried. He had not known the Squire’s actual name, but he looked like a ‘Bartholomew’.
Again, his expert fingers searched the body and came up with even less than the servant. Wakely was not surprised by this, though. Much of the time, the nobility had little reason to carry actual money on their personage.
He frowned, thinking he would have to make do with the jade ring he had taken from the Squire’s finger. It looked somewhat poorly cut to him.
Oh, well, what else can you expect from Tersi? he thought, un-generously.
Tucking the ring away, he focused his attention on the fight between his traveling companion and the Tersi guardsmen.
Wakely squinted. If he did not know better, he would say that the Life-Taker was not mentally engaged with the battle. He looked…
…bored.
***
Kurzhon had grown bored with the two Tersi guardsmen.
He had hoped to be pleasantly surprised by men with actual battle skill, but as usual, his hopes were dashed by reality.
These men were no fit opponents for him. Kurzhon had lost count of how many openings he had allowed to go unexploited.
As an exercise, Kurzhon had left himself open to strikes. True warriors would have seized on this, but these men were not true warriors.
They were house dogs, trained to growl, but never bite.
He blocked strike after inexpert strike, all the while wondering if the Drake he had heard called for would ever appear.
Then out of the corner of his eye, Kurzhon spotted motion.
More guards! Whudhold guards! He counted six of them running directly at him. They were still far back, but they would be there soon.
Good! He thought, finally they send true fighters!
With that, he decided to end his skirmish with the Tersi guards, and engage the Whudhold men.
He spun into the personal space of one of the guardsmen and brought his axe down, chopping off the man’s hand just above his wrist.
The hand flew a good distance away, the guardsman’s sword still clutched in it. A quick splatter of blood sprayed out along the arc of the hand’s journey, some of it landing on the watching crowd, many of whom shrieked as if they themselves had been cut.
The second Tersi guardsman saw the fate of his friend, then leapt forward to help him.
That was the wrong thing to do. Kurzhon had anticipated this, and so arranged for the blade of his axe to be at just the right position and angle in space as to take the guardsman’s head off as he ran forward.
Unfortunately, although the axe penetrated deep, the guardsman’s head did not come completely off. Instead, it dropped to the side, and fell under the body as the guardsman fell to the ground.
Now there were uncontrolled cries and wails from the crowd.
Kurzhon was disgusted with the womanish screaming, but even more disgusted with himself.
That head should have come clean off.
He felt no small amount of shame. He would have to do better next time.
Luckily, he realized that the guardsman who he had separated from his sword hand was still alive.
This man was now wailing even worse than the women in the crowd. Fresh disgust for the man welled up in Kurzhon. It seemed that whenever he chopped off a hand, instead of using their surviving hand to continue the fight, most men chose to stand there, weeping, as they stared at their new bloody stump.
Kurzhon would never understand such people. He quickly rushed over to the man and swung his axe.
This time the guardsman’s head almost flew from his body, as Kurzhon had put extra effort into it.
“Hah! HA HAAAAAAHHHH!!” Kurzhon shouted in glee. He now felt he had redeemed himself.
With that taken care of, he spun and began running toward the oncoming Wudhold guardsmen. Before he closed with them he leapt into he air, axe held high.
To one trained in merciless Vultaika, by the deadly Frozen Masters, sometimes lesser warriors seemed to be moving in slow motion.
This was such a moment. As Kurzhon fell back to earth, time seemed to slow, and he examined each of the six guardsmen who would be his new adversaries. Not their weapons, or size, but their eyes.
Fear, fear, fear, and more fear. Only one of the men before him had a true warrior’s spirit.
Time snapped back to its regular forward movement then. After that, everything seemed to happen at once.
Kurzhon brought his axe down on the closest guard, who just barely managed to raise his sword across his body to block the strike.
Unfortunately, Kurzhon’s weight and downward momentum forced the guard’s own sword blade down into the flesh above his collarbone. The lightweight leather armor the guard wore was no help, and the man cried out sharply in pain.
As Kurzhon landed, he backhanded the man to shut him up. The brute force of his blow somersaulted the guard and deposited him face down on the ground, where he lay sobbing, clutching his wound, blood flowing between his fingers.
Four of the remaining guards halted in their tracks as they witnessed their comrade so easily dispatched. Only one guard, a bearded man who seemed no longer young, but not yet old, sprang forward to engage Kurzhon, who had expected just that.
“I fought the war out by the Chanti Empire!” the man screamed as he attacked over and over, trying to find a way past Kurzhon’s spinning axe blade.
“Get him, Werner!” shouted one of the other guards, whom Kurzhon had written off as cowards.
“Let’s see how you handle a real fighting man!” Werner shouted as he continued his attack.
Kurzhon mustered all of his willpower and concentration in an attempt to prevent himself from bursting into laughter. He failed.
When Werner saw the big man laughing at him, he became enraged, and redoubled his assault.
The crowd watched as lightning quick sword strikes were blocked and rebuffed by a whirling, seemingly omnipresent axe.
***
In the midst of the crowd, Wakely’s fingers were also moving at lightning quick speeds.
He knew he would have to stop soon… his bag was almost full at this point. He wanted to save some room for whatever jewelry the Lady Monidale would have on her person. He had seen the ruby brooch she had worn the previous evening. If he could only…
… suddenly, Wakely halted.
Where was the Lady Monidale?
He did some quick math. There had been six in her entourage total. He had seen his large companion kill four men just moments earlier. That left…
Wakely stood his tiptoes and looked over the crowd, toward the docks.
He spotted three figures scurrying away from the commotion down to the ferry.
Wakely easily spotted the ferryman, but the other two were in drab cloaks that covered them head to toe. But there was no one else it could be, it had to be…
***
“LADY MONIDALE!”
Kurzhon heard someone shout the name out, and he realized it was the thieving fool he had traveled with.
“What?” he shouted back. “Speak again!”
Wakely stepped forward from the gathered crowd and pointed, excitement obvious in his movements.
“The Lady Monidale! She’s getting away!”
While Kurzhon had little regard for the man he was engaged with, he had just enough respect for his skill that he would not turn his back on the guard.
Instead, he moved into a vicious assault that caught the guard by surprise. In the blink of an eye the guard went from offense to desperate defense.
With a flourish, Kurzhon’s axe came down on the Werner’s sword blade in such a way that it was knocked from the grip of the guard. Werner went to dive for the weapon, but the only thing he caught was Kurzhon’s foot to his face.
Werner collapsed, but immediately tried to regain his feet.
After putting Werner down, Kurzhon whirled, meaning to leave the guard chastened, but alive, then run after Lady Monidale.
Even as he turned, he changed his mind.
He continued his spin, completing a full turn back to the way he was facing. He then stepped up to Werner, who was trying to stand, grabbed ahold of his head, and twisted.
Yet another audible snap! filled the air. The crowd cried out yet again. Again, someone called for a Drake.
There were four remaining guards. Kurzhon glared at them, then stepped toward them.
Immediately, two threw down their weapons and turned to run away. The other two just turned and ran. One of the first guards to run spun around again, came back, picked up his weapon, then turned and ran.
The crowd condemned these men even more than Kurzhon. Shouts of “COWARDS!” grew in intensity, and howls of disgust filled the sunlit morning.
Now Kurzhon felt good about going after Lady Monidale.
He, too spun and ran, but his speed was like something the gathered people of Whudhold had never seen.
So too, was the look on Kurzhon’s face.
Had they been able to see it, most everyone there would have packed their belongings and left.
***
“Hurry yourself, woman! We must make haste!”
Three cloaked figures moved quickly down the wooden planks of the long dock down to the ferry.
Not quick enough for Gunther, though.
The noble Ladies were taking little bird steps and hobbling along as if their lives did not depend on speed.
They did. They very much did.
Gunther had been the ferryman of Whudhold for more than twenty-five seasons. He had seen all manner of brigand, criminal and malcontent.
But this…
What he had just witnessed in the streets was something beyond his experience.
He had grown up on the docks around the southern ports of Banrata, and that had been a pit of filth he wouldn’t wish on anyone. When he had finally left, it had been because there was a price on his head and there was no choice remaining.
After wandering for years through the bigger cities and towns, he had ended up in this little no-place called Whudhold.
It had been perfect.
After growing up in Banrata, he had easily been one of the toughest men around. Gruff Old Gunther. Nobody messed with him here, and they gave him respect. Or else.
Running the ferry every day gave him the only reminder of his childhood home that he cared to remember.
Grabbing ahold of the nearest Lady’s upper arm, he began hauling her toward the end of the dock and the waiting ferry.
The arm was snatched away.
“I’ll thank you not to lay your common hands on me!!” shouted Lady Monidale, disgust evident in her tone, and on her face, even under her hood.
Gunther felt like backhanding the fool woman. Her and her entourage were responsible for this madness. Yes, he had jabbed the madman with his pole, but that was after these fools had insulted him. They had gotten him involved in this.
He was only helping now because he would need somewhere to go after today. He hoped gratitude at saving her life might make the Lady Monidale amenable to putting him up comfortably in Tersi, far from here.
They were still going too slow. Gunther glanced backwards, and his guts turned to ice.
The man was coming.
FAST.
Gunther had never seen a man with that much bulk move that quickly. It was not possible,
But on he came.
Panic welled up in Gunther, and he grabbed Lady Monidale, this time with two hands, and dragged her to the edge of the dock.
“What are you—?!” she cried, but never finished her sentence as she was then hurled through the air by Gunther. She landed hard and collapsed on the floor of the vessel.
Gunther jumped quickly onto the ferry, then spun and held out his hand to Lady Monidale’s subordinate. He had never learned her name.
“Come now, or be left behind, woman!!” Gunther screamed at the noble Lady.
Luckily, this woman seemed to grasp the situation better than Lady Monidale, she sprung forward and took Gunther’s hand. He yanked her roughly onto the ferry and then snatched up his pole.
It would be rough crossing with just himself to steer and row, but it could be done. Especially when his life was on the line.
He pushed off hard, exerting himself as never before. If he could get out into the lake, even the best swimmer could not follow them forever without giving in to fatigue.
Rapid, heavy footsteps on wooden planks caused Gunther to look toward the sound.
No! He screamed internally, he cannot be that fast!
But he was. Even as Gunther pushed and pushed, creating more and more distance between the ferry and the dock, the dark man ran on, gaining speed with every step he took.
By now he was close enough that Gunther could see the dark fury on the man’s face. He pushed even harder.
The dark man reached the end of the dock and launched himself into the air.
Gunther would have screamed, but he was using all of his energy attempting to push the ferry out of range of the big man’s leap.
In his lifetime, Gunther had failed at a lot of things, but this time he knew when he felt the man land on the ferry, when he felt the vessel wildly shudder and tip in response to the man’s sudden weight, he knew…
…this time his failure had cost him his life.
***
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK
Thanks for reading and make sure to let me know what you thought of Chapter 6 of Kurzhon’s adventures!
