Suxty-one

Returning to my previous position, I slip my other blade from the sole of my shoe and turn around to face my opponent.

He is big, but size isn't everything. Mason and T'aethi have taught me enough, and think I can survive him but not the entire hoard.

" Asadri," He says again, and all I can do is sigh.

" I have no idea what you want from me but...," I take my stance, and firmly plant my feet on the ground," I'm ready for whatever this is," I'd like to think that he understands me, but I don't think he does.

With a resounding roar from the horde, he lifts his blade and charges towards me. Brute force seems to be the theme, but I don't have that advantage, so I resolve to evade his blows, pushing through the protests of my body, each time I bend and twist to avoid his blows.

The sword falls to the ground with a metallic clang, as metal clashes against stone, and I roll on the ground out of the way. Amongst all that roaring, I hear a cackle and I know my windy friend is putting all his coins on the bigger and, to be honest, faster horse.

Dragging his sword on the ground, he turns towards me, while I push myself off the ground covered in soot, ash and god knows what else. I'd rather not think about it.

Lifting the lofty blade as if it were a feather, he swings it sideways, on a downward trajectory aiming for my legs, and I do the only thing I can and sprint trying to avoid yet another deadly blow; leaping up in the air carries far too many risks, because of the height difference.

From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of the sword closing in on my legs before I throw myself on the ground. It swishes, centimetres above me, catching a stray lock of hair, and all I can do is watch as it floats on the breeze until it collides with a rouge ember and bursts into flames. Bollocks.

At the sound of footfall, I roll over on my back, to catch my breath for a second before I jump to my feet. I need to up my game and also figure out why I'm only fighting just one of them.

With one deep grunt, he lifts the hefty sword and leaps towards me, while I jump to the side trying to get behind him. The over two feet height difference between us puts me at a disadvantage. I need to get close.

I skid to a stop right behind him and quickly asses my chances of mounting him like a horse. It's a risk I'll have to take, otherwise we will be playing catch for a while.

The horde cheers, while I sprint and calculate the angle of incline up his body. Using his heel I propel myself upwards and land on his lower back, more precisely, on his buttocks. A dangerous place to be if you ask me considering that we are surrounded by smouldering embers. Quite flammable.

I impale the first dagger just between his shoulder blades, he lets a pain-stricken roar and begins to turn left and right trying to shake me off. The horde cheers begin to slowly wane, and begin pounding the ground to show their support or indignation. It's unclear

Whose side are they on?

The next dagger goes in with a sickening squelch right at the base of his neck. The roar he lets out is heart-wrenching and gratifying at the same time. It's a wail of pain, and a wail of victory at the same time.

He sways on his feet, his free hand reaching to grab me but his lack of flexibility and bulking frame is not working in his favour.

When he lets out a defeated roar, I feel the tilt of his body as he throws himself on his back. In one swift move, I slide off of him and land on the the ground face first, just as a loud thud followed by an ear-piercing screech fills the air. I wasn't strong enough to drive the daggers deep into his flesh but he'd done just that when he threw himself on the ground.

Huffing, I push myself off the ground, spit the blood and ash coating my mouth, and find my opponent heavily breathing on the ground. The blade at the back of his neck must've severed his spinal cord because he can't move.

His blazing red eyes move but the rest of his body doesn't. He is paralysed. After all, it does pay off to stay in school.

Groaning in pain, I bend over to pick up the blade but to my surprise, I don't need both hands to wield it even though it is as long as I'm tall.

It's lightweight, in my hand it feels like I'm holding air, and I look around at the horde who is still cheering for some godawful reason. As if I didn't just fell one of their own.

At the sound of sputtering and coughing, my gaze drifts to the dying creature on the ground," Keleth," He sputters, blood pooling at the corners of his mouth, leeching away through his sharp jagged teeth, that are the same colour of his skin. Iridescent black.

" I don't know what it means," I look down at him while using the sword to hold myself up.

" Kill," My windy friend supplies from his jar. Oh!

It would be a mercy at this point. He will never walk again unless they have a special cure to heal spinal cord injuries.

Grabbing the blade midway, I place the tip against his throat, I feel its weight change the moment it touches him, and all of a sudden I have difficulty holding onto it. Steadying it with both my hands, I let its enormous weight do the job for me.

The moment I loosen my grip on it, the blade slides through his neck like butter, and blood oozes out of the wound, trickling down his neck and pooling around his horned head.

And suddenly the horde quiets, kneels, and a collective keening wail fills the air. I see their mouths open, but it comes out as just one sound.

With a garbled breath, his head lols to the side and finally joins the others in the afterlife.