Chapter Twenty Eight
When they were halfway open Dahlia strode out onto the field, shoulders thrown back and her head held high. The mass of men opposite her parted and an older man walked out to face her, followed by Zarek. Borreal, at her side, faced the men with her. Zarek looked down at the slight captain.
“Has your commander sent you to arbitrate in his place?” he spat out at Borreal.
“Yes, I am Captain Borreal of the God-King’s force and I speak with his authority,” Borreal replied simply, placing one hand on his sword hilt.
Dahlia heard soft footsteps behind her and felt a familiar presence as Borreal continued. “Captain Ravin and I will ensure that this trial is carried out with the honor that is our fellow captain’s due.”
Zarek’s war-trained horse shied away at Kenny’s approach. His inner beast was close to dominance and she felt fury radiating from him. He stopped behind and to her left as Borreal stepped back to her right.
“No honor is her due,” Zarek snarled out. “But if you think the two of you are enough to stand between her and her fate then that is your own affair.”
The older man with Zarek approached her and bowed. “Puppet Master, I am Master Mayuera of the Emperor’s guard and I challenge you on behalf of those I protect, the people you have preyed upon.”
Dahlia saw his unfocused eyes and gently extended her senses. The man was blind and the energy around him was calm and confident. She felt no hint of his thoughts or emotions. Based on that she could assume three things. One, he was a strong psychic. Two, he was older than she was and presumably extremely skilled with the blade he carried. Three, he would use his psychic abilities as ably as she would. A man with his skill would have developed an increased reliance on his other abilities. In this case he’d be using his abilities to “see” better than most people with two good eyes. He would have used his abilities every waking moment every day his eyesight had failed. Possibly it had been for his entire life. He would have delicacy and finesse that she did not. She would have to rely on the brute force of her abilities that were second to none.
She bowed, “Master Mayuera, I can tell that you are a true warrior and your loss would be mourned. Your death will bring me no joy. If at any time you surrender I will honor that.”
He turned his sightless eyes to her, “I see you are divided, it makes you weak. If I could remove the part of you that thrives in darkness I would but I see no way to end this other than your death.”
Zarek raise his arm and intoned, “Before the gods these two combatants stand. Let their justice be done and no mere man question.” He dropped his arm and the trial began.
Dahlia threw her hand forward and released the energy she’d been building through one of her focus bands into a shot. She felt Mayuera move to dodge it, much as he would have an arrow. It clipped him and scratched the shield around his mind but he seemed unphased. She saw him streak towards her and offer a glancing strike with his drawn blade towards her side. To her mind’s eye his sword glowed, wrapped with a psychic explosion. She twisted and parried, thankful she had not underestimated his speed. The explosion rocketed towards her but she shifted her shield to redirect the energy back down through her ax and into his sword almost instantly. A similar redirection of energy as one she would have used to direct a heavier physical opponent’s own force against him. The instant their blades parted she saw his eyes open in surprise and he was forced to twist away and direct the energy off to the side to avoid being caught in his own psychic blast.
Bet you haven’t seen that from anyone else, she thought.
As she suspected, he could see the energies as she could and he’d never encountered an opponent that not only had the same ability but could add additional power behind it. When it came to psychic abilities she was the equivalent of a titan working among the blind. All the finesse in the world could only come close to her. It seemed she’d finally found someone that came close and her mind sharpened it’s edge, ready for a challenge. She grinned as she met his next attack.
She had also been right that he outclassed her in swordsmanship. His physical attacks had the same level of finesse as his mental ones. The two combatants fell into a pattern with her on physical defense and mental offense and him on physical offense and mental defense. He was able to combine mental and physical attacks but she was able to shift his attacks around and add her own in a completely different timing and pattern than the flow she attacked with physically. She imagine that to those without the ability to perceive the psychic layer it looked like Mayuera would come close to cutting her just to twist away. Only those who could catch both sides of their dance recognized that if he hadn’t twisted and dropped his focus from the attack then his psyche would have been shredded.
But she could feel herself being outmatched. Eventually he would be able to slip past both the physical and mental attacks and slice into her. She could feel him searching for an opening, watching for an attack from her that was just the smallest amount off balance. He was betting on her inability to fire perfect psychic shots every time. To get through to him she had to be perfect every single time, he merely needed to be willing to take a wound. She felt herself waver before the more experienced opponent as her focus on her attacks slipped slightly. With that slip, Mayuera managed to get past her physical defenses as he took an imperfectly aimed shot to his psyche. His shield cracked but held and his blade laid her cheek open as she ducked and fell back in order to prevent him from opening her throat. She made a wide sweep at his legs, attempting to give herself space to recover but he dodged. Spinning to catch to her back he brought his sword down, opening up a long cut on her bicep as she blocked, barely in time. She knocked the sword away, parrying with her ax but it left her in a vulnerable position on the ground. She felt the fire in her arm as her movements to evade him opened the wound further and blood spilled down her arm. Blood from her cheek smeared across her face and lips as she panted with pain and exertion.
“You should have chosen darkness or light and been whole,” Mayuera chided her as he brought his sword down towards her heart.
He froze as a chain wrapped up to his arm and held the blade fast where it had lodged. Faster than she’d moved during their fight, Dahlia had twisted to catch his thrust with one chain-wrapped forearm. The tip barely sliced the meat where her neck met her shoulder and she’d grabbed the blade with her hand. The chain extended from her wrist, dripping with blood, up around the hilt so he couldn’t pull back. She’d sacrificed a nasty cut in her hand to trap his blade with the chain.
“Why would I ever do that?” Her blood streaked face twisted into a grin. Six puppets appeared around her as she released the energy she’d been sacrificing speed, strength, and power to build up and manipulate. Able to split her awareness between the attack, defense, and preparation she’d managed to barely hold him off long enough to prepare the energy to manifest her puppets.
The closest two darted in and forced him to release his sword and back away from Dahlia as he dodged and resorted to a psychic attack that took a chunk out of one of the puppets. She vanished and the other five closed in.
Dahlia threw her head back and laughed as her puppets hunted the old man like a pack of wolves, darting in at him then retreating. He could have dodged two but three against the unarmed man was too much. He began to slow as they opened cut after cut on him.
He caught one more in a blast as Dahlia lunged to her feet and threw out another psychic attack with her focusing band. It struck Mayuera dead on and he stumbled as her psychic flare blew a hole in his shield, blinding and disorienting him. Her pack set upon him, two puppets grabbing his arms and forcing him to his knees while the other two held their weapons to his throat.
“Surrender,” she growled out, facing him, bloody but steady on her feet.
“Never, monster,” the old master’s voice rang out as he bowed his head, ready to meet death.
Dahlia rolled her eyes. Gods he was being dramatic. One of the puppets smacked the blunt end of her ax to his temple. He slumped forward, unconscious. A roar shot up from the crowd behind him and she threw herself to one side as Zarek’s dagger sped through the space she’d occupied a moment before. She barely saw him as Kenny crossed the distance and tackled Zarek from his mount. Zarek’s sword shattered against the enraged captain’s chest and a look of fear flashed in his eyes. He struggled, trying to ward Kenny off and she saw fire lick over the captain but Kenny grabbed the man’s forearm and, with a sickening pop, ripped it out of socket. Zarek’s scream was cut short as Kenny crushed his neck.
The soldiers streamed towards the three members of Dahlia’s force. Only Zarek’s fellow commanders hung back, hoping to let the mob swamp the three captains. One of her puppets dragged the unconscious Mayuera out of the way and, with a moment of her focus, Dahlia summoned the other six so a pack of ten stood between her and the rushing tide of enemies. Borreal yelled, calling her and Kenny back as he darted forward to help them. She retreated with Borreal and Kenny as their fellow force members poured out of the gate to cover their retreat. The enemy front runners that caught up to the captains were brought down quickly. Dahlia felt her neck, hand, and wounded arm screaming as she threw her ax into a soldier who ventured too close then whipped it back. The pain became background noise as her attention narrowed to staying alive. She could deal with the damage later as long as they survived this.
Dahlia dropped back and released energy she’d forced into the scatter shot ring and the ten soldiers closest to her stumbled then fell as their comrades tripped over the suddenly disoriented men. Her puppets, minus the one dragging Mayuera, fell on the jumbled soldiers. Blood sprayed as they slashed before darting away as more men began to catch up to the first wave. Kenny held their left side, shaking off enemy blows and returning them with sword strikes fierce enough to separate limbs from their owners with a single swing. Borreal held the right, his blade flashing in intricate patterns. No enemy blade seemed able to touch him.
Just as the main force began to get within reach their three barracks met up with the retreating captains with additional reinforcements. Fidelity, a few steps ahead of her barrack leapt over Dahlia’s head, screaming out a challenge of rage. She slammed into a group of enemy soldiers Dahlia’s puppets were targeting. The woman’s demon-like strength sent men flying as her hammer collided with their bodies and her body shook off their attacks. Kenny’s men flanked their captain, slowing the tide that attempted to swamp him.
Traedon and his men joined Borreal, his demon tigers careening past Dahlia to push the enemy soldiers back and give the barrack members breathing room.
“Just get to the gate,” Traedon bellowed over the roar. “We’ll have cover there!”
He caught an enemy blade on his own sword and threw it to the side before landing a kick in the man’s gut. The soldier crumpled before him as Traedon turned to meet the next. The young lieutenant’s blade flashed as he fought alongside his barrack and his pack, taking out anyone who tried to circle around them.
The other soldiers filled in around the three captains. Dahlia saw one of Mazaran’s lieutenants trying to cut a path towards Fidelity. But as fierce as the soldiers Dahlia fought alongside were there was no chance of them holding back the overwhelming numbers coming at them for long. Dahlia saw her puppets fall and vanish as they pushed back against the troops beginning to surround Fidelity. Fidelity disappeared, swamped, and Dahlia caught her breath as Nel found his way through to dash into the fray, sparks of lightening dancing on his sword.
“Damn it, no!” She screamed and ran after them, forcing more energy into the band that could throw a scatter shot. It caught five men closest to Nel and he took out one with his sword and another with a blast of lightening before one of the other three slashed him across the chest. A man blocked Dahlia’s path and she snarled in frustration as she was forced to turn and deal with the distraction.
She heard a scream of rage as Fidelity went mad. The woman lost control and her berserker abilities took over, burning through her body’s reserves to dull pain and fuel her extreme strength and speed. She whirled her hammer through the men around her, disregarding the blades that cut at her arms to clear a bit of space. Then she flipped neatly over the rest standing between her and the fallen barrack member to land directly on the back of the man standing over Nel. She gripped the soldier’s head in one hand and twisted. She landed next to Nel as his attacker’s body hit the ground. Throwing the young soldier over her shoulder she took a vicious slash to the leg before pivoting and placing her boot directly in the opponent’s throat.
Sabir and Arreal caught up to her and pulled her back. Sabir, covering their retreat, took strikes even his rock hard skin couldn’t shake off. Blood poured down his body as more and more shallow wounds opened from enemy weapons that hit home. Fidelity, her body cannibalizing itself to allow her to keep moving and tearing wounds further open, carried Nel back as she dashed for the gate.
To either side, Dahlia saw barrack members falling. A man to Kenny’s left took a blow to the rib cage that dropped him. His captain scooped the man up with one hand and threw him over his shoulder, fighting single-handed. One of Borreal’s men wasn’t so fortunate. A thrown dagger caught him in the throat and he dropped, mortally wounded. No one was able to help him.
Just as Dahlia’s group came within reach of the gates and the enemy’s men closed in around them a volley of fire shot up between them and the main body of troops. Stopping just short of burning them it dissipated against an invisible wall that circled just around them. Mazaran held up his hands inside the edge of the gate as his men reigned down fire and shots at the enemy soldiers on the other side of Mazaran’s barrier. Their enemies burned as they slammed into his barrier, as unable to pass through as the fire. Mazaran fell to one knee, shaking with the effort of holding so many back as Dahlia and the soldiers of their force turned and ran through into the safety of the gate. The few enemy soldiers on the same side of the barrier were quickly shot down behind them.
The gate swung shut as Mazaran dropped his hands and leaned against it, gasping for breath. Dahlia had never even heard of a man who could stop an enemy charge and friendly fire single-handedly, even for a brief period of time. Her respect for his abilities rose greatly.
Arreal stepped to her side, “Captain DeMorra, allow me to escort you to the infirmary, please.”
Safe inside the gate, the pain from her numerous wounds beat against the mental block she’d instinctively placed on it. As she looked down and saw herself covered in blood, a good portion of it her own, her awareness shifted and the block crumbled. She bit her lip, sheathed her axes, and nodded. Arreal gently threw his captain’s arm around his neck and supported the wounded woman as they walked away from the wall. Beside her Sabir carried Fidelity’s limp, torn body, his face stoic.
“Nel…” Dahlia looked around and saw two members of infirmary working on him. So he was still alive. But he’d lost so much blood…
Arreal resolutely led her away as she blinked away a tear.
Please let him be alright, she thought.