Chapter 8. Through flesh and bone
>>ATTACK<<
Rajju yelled, trying to salvage the element of surprise they had just lost.
"I'm going to flay that bastard."
He muttered as he descended the ridge.
The guards had already taken stances, ready for them, still they had the upper hand when it came to numbers- twelve aganist nine- four guards and a party of five adventurers, it would be a tough battle, but they would manage, he had faith in his men.
On the other side of the caravan, Marra was sniping; dropping the bandits, one after the other.
By the time they got to melee distance, she had already dropped three of them.
Vanmo closed in on a towering figure, his sword emiting sparks as he parried a slash aimed at his chest.
They traded blow after blow, almost evenly matched. Almost, time would favour the bandit; pressure mounted each passing moment.
Vanmo's bones rattling with each exchange- their confrontation faded within the chaos.
Thom picked the other man, who had paused for a moment, sizing him up.
Old Gens gave Rain a subtle nod, they would pincer the lean and gaunt man, they didn't let his looks fool them- the man reeked of death.
****
The Raveger had already reached the caravan, his comrades swarming right behind him.
>>Clang!<<
Metal bit aganist metal-Sparks flying,
Rajju had delivered a devastating blow.
He would have to do a quick work out of the guards then go and offer reinforcement.
The grakkin bastard who messed their plan would pay in blood after.
He raised his double edged axes, slashing downwards on a guard in chainmail- aiming to split him in two.
Clang!!!
The axe connected, but not with the guard, a shield was between the axe and its target.
The guard holding the shield buckled, his internals rattled.
****
The situation was looking hopeless- the Captain had come at his rescue, else he would have been split in half.
The shield was already dented, a few more blows and it will be useless.
The bandit was clearly stronger- what the hell were the adventurers doing, they should have come to their rescue immediately.
Soon, more of the marauding bandits would be upon them- then they would be sitting ducks, awaiting their deaths
"FORM RANKS! DEFEND THE WAGONS!"
"SHIELDS! FRONT!"
A series of commands were yelled out by the Guard Captain.
A Shield on his left hand, a Gladius in his right hand.
They had formed a wall:
The Captain in the middle, Torlc (2nd Guard) next to him shied and mace in hand
Jake and Bonn (3rd and 4th guard) on either side each swinging a claymore, keeping the bandits at bay.
The line wouldn't hold for long- the giant of a man would soon hit again. They would buckle under his blows.
Seconds ticked by- nevertheless it felt like eternity.
Desperation was kicking in.
"SIGNAL VANMO! NOW!"
Sparks were flying from steel biting aganist steel.
The guards had been split, the Captain and Bonn holding the towering giant of a man.
Jake and Torlc holding aganist five men. Five men!
It was inevitable, they would collapse.
***
Rajju the raveger was now smiling- at first he had been suprised by the Guard taking his charged blow yet still standing: it always incapacitated his victims. Always; but not today.
He had recovered from his awe quickly- went in for a second blow.
Parry, feint, overhead slash...
He was relentless, dishing blows after blows, slashes , thrusts...the defense line fractured.
Two of the guards closed in on him; keeping him away from the wagons.
Hopefully men would take care of the rest.
***
Marra on the roof of the carriage, looked at the other side- the guards were barely holding on; frustration mounting.
She reloaded her crossbow, aimed and took a shot - her aim struck true- hitting a bandit on the helmet ; stunning him.
The Torlc swung his mace.
Craaaak
The bandit's skull was crushed, the helmet bending in, metal fragments jutting into the skull.
He didn't spare him a second glance, already on the move.
A second bolt whistled in- it was parried with a clang, impaling the earth.
The guards had gotten reinforcements.
Another bolt whooshed in, missing the guard by a hair's bredth, impaling itself onto a bandit's face- he slumped over; dead before he hit the ground.
****
The merchant unnoticed under ensuing chaos, frantically rummaging into his robes, his hands trembling under pressure.
He fished out three scrolls, one on each hand, the other held within his mouth.
He held the one on his right hand; the red coloured one, trying to open it but dropped the one in his left hand doing so.
He rushed towards the towering brute- he posed the greatest threat.
A ball of flames emerged from the scroll, striking the brute square on the chest- throwing him off to a distance.
The Guard Captain and his comrade rushed, closing in on the temporarily incapacitated foe.
Bonn performed a downward slash, a devastating blow.
Clang!
A flash of light followed by a loud clang- claymore met vambrace- the brute was still in the fight, it wouldn't be so easy to take him out.
The brute swung his double axe, it bit at the claymore wielding guard; Bonn- tearing his chainmail and biting flesh.
Firstblood had been drawn.
Bonn released a grunt of pain- still unrelenting; he wouldn't give the brute space to recover and re-orient his attacks.
****
Back to the other two guards, they now had some breathing room now that the bandits were wary of lethal bolts.
Marra released bolt after bolt never giving the bandits space to recover- most missed, impaling rocks on the side, the remainder parried off.
Soon she would run out of bolts to use- hopefully the guards would have recovered by then ...or reinforcements would have arrived.
****
Old Gens and Rain weren't fairing any better, they had suffered a few cuts from the deranged lunatic.
It didn't help their morale, now that the bandit released a crazed laughter with every miss; every cut he delivered- seemingly enjoying the pincer.
The gaunt man was surprisingly skilled.
Rain went in for a swing, seeing an opening
The man, Larp dove under his swing drove a knee onto Rain's chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs.
He rolled, dodging a black gleaming dagger ready to tear through his neck.
It missed, Larp- unrelenting, closed in...turning his back on Gens, a sacrifice to deal with a nuisance.
The dagger tore through Rain's thigh, had he not dodged- his guts would be spilling to the ground.
He'd sprung away, giving his thighs instead.
The blow connecting had been inevitable.
Old man Gens, seeing and opening, drove a dart onto Larp's thigh but received a gnarly gash across his chest.
He coughed out blood, his stance shaking.
Larp went in for the finishing blow.
>>Ahhh<<
Larp cried out.
Rain had cashed in on his distraction- tunnel vision when going in for the killing blow and slashed at Larp's archilles tendon.
The reaction was immediate, Larp slumped forward falling as he clutched his feet...releasing a guttural roar.
He gripped his dagger, crawling towards Rain.
Gens lay at a distance clutching his chest- cupping his lifeblood from leaking out.
Rain wrestled Larp to the ground- who seemed disoriented...foaming in his mouth.
A stinging pain shot through Rain's chest- the obsidian dagger in Larp's hand embedded between his ribs.
His teeth bared in a primal snarl, breath rasping- mustered all strength he could gather and drove the knives he had into Larp's exposed neck twisting them.
Larp spasmed and twitched- reaching for the blade between Rain's ribs- noticing his intentions, Rain disengaged- he wouldn't allow the crazed maniac to drag him to an early grave.
Larp let out a laughter, choking in blood...still struggling- determined to drag him to the depths of hell.
A desparate bout of crawl-chase ensued...a smear of blood dragging across the the earth.
The last throes of Larp's death passed. His body went limp, save for the occasional twitch- then finally he lay still. Hopefully for eternity.
Rain tore off his shirt, firmly binding his thigh to still his bleeding
He then dragged himself- dagger still in his ribs- towards old Gens figure.
He held down Gens' chest to stem the bleeding.
Gens mouth was moving, he leaned forward:
"M...My... belt pouch.... Green ...vial... health..."
Rain reached down, uncovering old Gens cloak.
There were an assortment of vials in the belt.
He took out three green golden vials, uncorked- poured one into Gens' mouth, then uncorked the remaining two. Peeling back the torn fabric, he revealed the gash carved deep across Gens' chest. Without hesitation, he poured both vials over the wound.
It was like a miracle unfolding before his eyes.
The raw, mangled flesh shuddered, then began to knit itself together.
Torn muscle pulled inward, inching toward its other half like iron drawn to a magnet. The edges of the wound puckered and stretched, fusing with a wet, sinewy sound. Blood flow slowed, then stopped entirely as the wound began to close covered in blood and alchemical residue
A breath hitched in Gens' throat — shallow, but there.
Seeing the results, he rummaged through the belt, finding other two- bit onto one uncorking it tilted his head and swallowed.
He braced himself- wrapped his fingers around the protuding hilt of the dagger and pulled, a shriek emerging from his lips.
The dagger came out with a squelch.
He poured the full vial, tearing off pieces of rags that was once his shirt padding the wound.
His vision blurred, head swinging, he collapsed unconscious.
Sounds of clanging steel at a distance.