Chapter Thirty-Six

‘From the inside, the Wardens shredded everything they had once been known for.’ 

Creaton followed Boog into the chaos. His focus was on the sword gripped tightly in his palm. He hoped his grip would hold despite the sweat against the hilt. 

He had never been in a war, never seen such brutality, and that put the fear of the Nine Wardens in him. His heart refused to slow, fearing he would be ambushed, fearing death itself. Creaton threw his sword out to defend himself, his boots digging into the ground for stability. He cleared his mind of all the extraneous thoughts. His instincts took over.  

The swords clanked together. The opposing warden was quick, but Creaton called on his warden and envoy training, ducking two blows, then straightening his back with confidence. He had trained with one of the greatest swordsmen in the history of Maralay. This would be no ordinary fight for his attacker.  

The warden seemed to adjust quickly, but already Creaton could see the weakness in his stance. He came at him showing that the only combat he had ever participated in had been training combat. With the warden’s passion up and the lack of prior resistance, he swung rapidly and went for the kill strike with every blow, but Creaton fended them off easily. He watched for the next blow and dodged, kneeing the warden in his ribs.  

With the man doubled over, he could end this fight rather quickly. Something hit him in the back of the head, sending him sprawling to the ground. This was what Creaton had never practiced, what he’d been afraid of¾being double teamed. Creaton blinked the shock away, rolling to his back and just barely escaping the path of a short sword. There were no longer two men, now there were a total of four surrounding him. Each one wore the symbol of the Wardens, the great daliwins hanging from their necks.  

Creaton cursed under his breath and scrambled to his feet. The four men circled him, closing in tighter and tighter. How could he beat four fully trained wardens? There was no way to know unless he tried. If nothing else, he would take as many with him as he could in this dance with death.   

Two men lunged at Creaton and he deflected the brunt of one blow with his sword. The second blow, he took across his back. The pain was intense, he tried to breathe deeply and blow out the pain as they closed in on him.  

Creaton saw movement and dropped to the ground at the last second, avoiding being skewered. He drove his elbow into the midsection of the man closest to him, then hit a second man in the jaw with an uppercut. He’d punched with his weaker arm, leaving the man still on his feet, but distracted. Creaton took advantage, lunging at him, effectively breaking the circle. Creaton took off at a sprint, hoping to thin out the herd of attackers. 

Moving around a small skirmish, Creaton saw one of Pryce’s men as he was stabbed by a sharp blade. The man coughed and sputtered, dying quickly. Creaton’s eyes darted around. Where had his comrades gone?   

He came to the wall of the lower level and turned around, not wanting to box himself in, but it was already too late. The four men he had run from had found a few friends, and they all were staring hungrily at Creaton. Creaton raised his sword.  

*** 

Caid had imagined his opportunity to avenge Geth every night in his dreams, in every spare moment of thought. And now he stared directly at the man who had rammed his sword through his best friend’s body. Caid held something like a snarl on his face, an angry, feral expression. 

Maddog’s face was slack and uncaring. That upset Caid even more. Maddog had cared nothing for Geth. He had done his filthy, traitorous duty and returned, crawling, to his master, Rawn.  

Staring Maddog down now, Caid had at least hoped for some emotion. He would have even settled for an offhand comment. Maddog just stood there, seemingly waiting for Caid to attack him playing coy and silent. He had to know how much his cavalier attitude was getting to Caid, and that was why he was doing it.   

Caid tried to corral his anger hearing Galmont’s voice in his mind: “If a man controls your emotions, he controls your mind, and therefore, you cannot win.” Galmont had taught all the Wardens this saying, but he had said it even more often during his training sessions with Caid. Caid drew in a deep breath, stealing some energy from his daliwin.  

He moved, reaching Maddog as fast as the blink of an eye. Maddog didn’t startle; he must have used his own daliwin to slow everything around him down. Caid drew up his sword, glancing it off Maddog’s. The two men stumbled back from the harsh impact. Caid kept Geth’s face in the forefront of his mind.  

He imagined what Geth’s death must have been like, alone and shocked by betrayal. Caid dodged Maddog’s attack and came up to his side, bringing the pommel of his sword up for a quick thrust. Maddog pivoted and punched Caid in the ribs.  

Caid drew in more from his daliwin, holding his hand on his ribs to block out the pain.  

Caid circled around and blocked out the fighting going on all around them. There was nothing else in this cavern but Maddog and his revenge. He would see Maddog dead at the end of his sword, and he would sacrifice everything for it.  

He called on his daliwin again, twin lights shot from his hands. Spinning around like a propeller, Caid’s swords attacked Maddog. Maddog drew in his own energy reserve and two smaller lights shot from his hands. Caid was happy to see that Maddog hadn’t perfected the technique. It was now a matter of who the better fighter was, or who would tire first. 

Caid swung one arm down in an arch and the other arm up from his hip. Maddog dodged the first but suffered a slash to the chest from the second, releasing a shriek of pain. The slash seeped blood across the front of Maddog’s shirt. 

Maddog moved in fast, but Caid was much faster and moved from harm’s way. Maddog overstepped, and another slash landed on his shoulder. Another gasp of pain fell on Caid’s ears and a smile crept across his face. He had never enjoyed killing before, but in this case couldn’t help it. Maddog turned to him again, slower this time. His stoic face was replaced with one of determination. Caid was ready for Maddog to bring his best because, in the end, he was going to kill him either way.  

*** 

Creaton clutched his sword in white-knuckled hands. His heart thumped like a drum inside his chest. He was sweating more than a pouring thunderstorm, and to top it all off, he felt the drain of fear pulling at him.  

The four men continued to move in on him. Fear or not, he had to deal with the problem before him. Creaton tried to pick his first target. Who was the weakest of the bunch? 

Creaton swung in wide arches trying to create some space. They barely reacted, briefly gliding away from the sharp point of his sword with ease. They moved right back into their spots, coming even closer.  

They were almost toying with him now, like a cat who had caught its prey. He swung again, and this time kicked a small, pile of dirt into the nearest warden’s eyes. Creaton lunged forward recklessly, hoping to have caught at least the blinded one-off guard, but the warden nearest his hurt comrade blocked the blow and sent Creaton stumbling backward. He caught himself on the wall of the pit and avoided falling, only to feel the blunt blow of a shoulder ramming into him, his head hitting the wall from the impact.  

The air burst from his lungs, and when he looked to see which one of the wardens had attacked him, he was too dazed to focus. His head swam. He blinked several times, trying to clear his head. He realized then that he had dropped his sword from his sweaty palms.  

A booming laugh sounded off beside him, startling him.  

“Good at the dice, but not so good with a sword,” said Boog.  

Creaton heard Mug laugh along with Boog, and Creaton felt a wave of warm gratefulness for whatever heroic act they had just used to save him. If their laughs were all he ever heard for the rest of his days, he would never, not once, grow tired of them. 

*** 

Maddog jumped back to his feet. Caid let him. He would rather kill Maddog as he stood. He wanted Maddog to understand why he was dying. Caid flipped a sword up into his hand from the ground. He let the daliwin blades drop away. He already felt the pull of fatigue at his arms and legs. Maddog kept his daliwin swords out but Caid doubted he could hold them for too much longer.  

Maddog tried to press for advantage with the twin blades. Caid dodged the attacks with controlled pulls of his daliwin. He twirled away using his advantage of speed to feign an attack from the side, watching for Maddog to pull his blade high. When he did Caid lunged off his planted back foot, driving his sword under Maddog’s light blade. Maddog tried to turn away, but still took a slice to his side. Caid felt the muscle ripping at the blades sharp edge. Maddog let out a grunt of pain, but his hand was already to his wound. He had dropped the twin blades and used his energy to stop the pain.  

Maddog was now without a sword. Caid thought about killing him, but he wanted Maddog to know he had been bested. He wanted him to suffer for killing Geth. He was not a coward like Maddog, and he would show him that. Caid kicked a loose sword toward Maddog.  

“Pick it up.”  

Maddog didn’t question the good deed. He just lifted the blade and stood back to his feet. Maddog pointed the tip of the sword at Caid’s chest and charged forward. Caid kept his shoulders square, but let his forearms loosen, his body braced for the attack. Maddog pulled up at the last moment and swung an overhead attack at Caid. Caid adjusted just in time to get his sword up. Maddog pressed with all his weight trying to force Caid to drop his guard.  

Caid let out a yell and pressed back with all his strength. He wasn’t as big as Maddog and by default wasn’t as strong, but he created enough distance to kick out at Maddog’s leg. Maddog stepped back to avoid contact. Caid had the plan to circle around Maddog to his side. He hoped that the wound, while painless, would still provide a weak spot to attack. Maddog tried another lunge forward, Caid wouldn’t get into another battle of strength with Maddog. Caid jumped back, landing on the corpse of a fallen envoy. Caid tried to right his footing, but Maddog used his shoulder and forward momentum to send him sprawling on his back. Caid rolled over to see the eyes of Maddog glaring down at him. There was that passion Maddog had been missing.  

*** 

Happiness could be strangely fleeting. One second, Creaton was laughing from the relief of being saved. The next, Tyke’s neck was skewered, blood spilling from the wound, and Brains died at the tip of a sword with that look of drunkenness across his face. 

Boog turned, blocking his attacker’s sword, but another cut into his head from the side, and he fell like a boulder. Mug was distracted, unable to defend his partner in crime; two wardens drove their blades into his midsection and he fell over, clutching his wounds only for a moment before he lie still.  

Creaton breathed hard, unsure what to expect; nothing had prepared him for a fight like this. His mind was a whirlwind, he had to get himself under control if he wanted to survive.  

Rough hands grasped Creaton from behind and pulled him up by the collar. The Cros Envoy who hoisted him made even Boog look like a shrimp.  

“Don’t see why we can’t just kill them,” the envoy said without any sign of remorse.  

“Not our call,” another answered.  

The second man was surveying Mug and Boog. “Pretty sure these four are already dead,” he said with a knowing laugh.  

 “Well we can still take this one,” the bigger man said.  

Creaton felt a sharp prod in his back. He was pulled along, moving around the remaining fights and toward the pillars where the group was separated earlier. Creaton stopped for a moment to stare around for the others but was pushed forward quite forcefully with the sharp point of the man’s sword. Creaton started up again, not willing to provoke the man further.  

The man turned the corner and the light purple fog enveloped everything there. Before him, Creaton saw the man he wanted to see most in the world. Tied with his hands behind his back, Creft’s face oozed blood and showed bruising. Creaton thought about running to him, but the envoy with his one-shot aimed and ready persuaded him to walk instead. Creft looked up at him, but he, too, was quiet as Creaton approached.  

“Is this the man?” A guard poked Creft with the pommel of his sword.  

Creft said nothing. The man looked at him and then at Creaton.  

“I guess you can kill him, that isn’t the man we need,” he said.  

Creft perked his head up, trying to say something, but searing hot pain filled Creaton’s belly, and he lost focus, his vision blurring. He looked down to see the sharp end of a sword sticking out of his stomach. He crumpled to the ground, Creft’s cries ringing in his ears as his eyes closed.  

*** 

Caid had nowhere to scramble to. There was no way he could get back to his feet. Maddog was standing over him with a clear path. Caid felt the anger still coursing through his veins, but the anger had shifted to himself. He had failed to exact the revenge he had promised. Maddog would kill him. Caid yelled in frustration. Pushing himself up to a seated position. Maddog took another step forward and readied for the killing blow. Caid’s hands were clenched tightly, his body ready for the final strike, even as his mind seethed.  

Maddog grunted. His sword hand went limp. He sputtered as if he were choking unexpectedly. His hand reached up to the base of his neck. Caid couldn’t see what had caused the change, but the blood that came back on Maddog’s fingers told him all he needed to know. Maddog stumbled forward and to his knees. He was looking directly at Caid who kept eye contact as he watched Maddog slowly dying. The daliwin couldn’t fix a mortal wound and the dagger sticking out from the back of his neck had gone in deep enough to kill.  

Caid thought he would have felt joy. Maddog was dying, but all Caid felt was anger. He had not delivered the killing blow. But then again there was a beauty to it. Maddog died the same way that Geth had died, a wound he had never expected from a person that would have never been viewed as a threat.  

Alis stepped forward, blood on her hands. Maddog fell forward without another sound. Caid looked to Alis who wiped her hand on the front of her shirt.  

Caid looked back at Maddog’s corpse. He let out a chuckle. Geth was probably with the Nine Wardens laughing at him. Caid was sprawled on the ground and Alis was standing above him with her hand extended to help him to his feet. Caid felt the pang of regret again, but it faded when he looked back to Alis. This girl was special. Caid would have never even gotten this far without her.  

Caid took her hand but pushed himself up with his other arm. The surrounding fighting had moved away. A few men were still clutching wounds, but they were not his concern.   

“Where are the others?”  

“I don’t know,” Alis answered.  

Caid took a long look at her this time. Her entire wardrobe was covered in thick, red blood. She had been busy during his attack on Maddog and the other wardens. He silently wondered how many men Alis had killed. He laughed as he thought that their final thoughts were how they had been bested by a young girl.  

Caid reached over and grabbed Alis, pulling her in for an embrace. She hesitated a moment, but then threw her arms around him.  

“Thank you,” he said.  

She didn’t reply, but he heard a small sob escape her. Caid held her close for a moment longer and then let go, standing back to his feet.  

“We still have more to do,” he said.  

Alis nodded, trying to hide the tears. Caid looked away, letting her pretend she hadn’t been crying.