Nirewin and Geoffrey cast about for an exit to the clearing they have become trapped in, but to no avail. The fire is spreading faster and faster, surrounding them in a blazing inferno. As dark shapes form on the periphery of their vision, Nirewin pushes Geoffrey to the ground, his sword drawn and gleaming, seeking a target in vain.
Geoffrey: Nirewin-
Nirewin: Hush, boy! Stay down. Keep low.
Suddenly, Nirewin sees them.
The Chk'tu are surrounding them, snarling in their fierce little tongues. Were they not so many, their weapons not glistening in the firelight, they would appear almost comical.
Nirewin: Get ready to run, boy. I'll hold them off long enough for you to escape through the brush.
Geoffrey: But-
Nirewin: Shh..it's all right.
The Chk'tu start drawing slowly in, a ring of imp-like ferocity. Nirewin draws his sword back-
Suddenly, the Chk'tu draw back. Intense chatter replaces their aggressive tone as they draw back to the edge of the clearing.
Geoffrey: They're going to let us go!
Nirewin: No...they're making sure we don't leave. But why-
Suddenly, the edge of the forest is uprooted, trees flying violently in all directions. Four figures march in, standing in a triangular formation.
Nirewin: Oh, no.
Geoffrey: Ni'Kash must have sent them after us!
The three identical constructs draw their swords in perfect synchronicity. The more decorated one, Drogal, points at Nirewin, and soundlessly they attack.
Drogal: I am Drogal. We have been sent to destroy you.
Nirewin: Come then, to your doom!
He strides into the middle of their line, broad strokes of his sword ringing against their counter and forcing them back. Nirewin is an excellent swordsman, one of the best in the land; but against the three constructs, Ni'Kash's finest guard, he is well-matched. In rhythm they surround him, assailing him with sharp jabs, forcing his blade around him like a hurricane to parry. Forcing them away with a circular stroke, he wipes his brow, glaring at Drogal who stands, as unmoving as the Chk'tu, watching the battle without any trace of emotion.
Drogal: The master will be pleased.
The three constructs behind slash at him. Nirewin rolls backward, a desperate move that lands him at Drogal's feet.
Geoffrey: NO!
Nirewin gazes up helplessly, as a flash of crimson arcs toward him-
Voice: Back!
Drogal is launched off his feet, landing in the thick underbrush of the clearing. Nirewin leaps to his feet, and stops, startled.
The three constructs are fighting with another swordsman, who is clad in blood red plate-mail. His hair, long and black, sweeps from side to side as he fights. His sword is breathtaking - crimson at the hilt, the blade appears made entirely of emeralds, which dazzle the very air it cuts through. The swordsman knocks his opponents to the ground with an elegant sweep, then turns to Nirewin.
Swordsman: Behind you, my friend!
Startled, Nirewin turns - just in time to lock swords with Drogal, who assaults him with a flurry of blows. Nirewin, still shocked, deflects the onslaught, backpedalling as he does so, until standing back-to-back with the mysterious stranger.
Nirewin: Who are you?
Swordsman: All of that in a moment. Let's swap, shall we?
In a flawless maneuver, the two spin on each other's backs, facing their opposite foes. They talk as they battle, the new element of surprise working to their advantage.
Nirewin: I don't recognise your fighting style, yet you are obviously a knight!
Swordsman: Indeed...worked that out all yourself, did you?
Angrily, Nirewin dodges a construct's broad swing and impales it on his blade. The other constructs charge at him, while he is indisposed, but as if anticipating the move, the emerald sword flashes backwards, knocking one of the constructs over and beheading the other.
Swordsman: Now if you'll excuse me, I have important work over here to do.
He and Drogal resume their battle, duelling fiercely. Nirewin, not missing a beat, leaps onto the fallen construct, wrestling with it on the ground. The construct has superhuman strength, though, and Nirewin finds its hands around his throat, squeezing-
Geoffrey: Ha!
One of the vanquished constructs' swords embeds itself in the final constuct's throat, silencing it forever. Nirewin, grasping at his throat, wheezes a thank-you.
At the same moment, Drogal breaks free of his battle, surveying the situation.
Drogal: My allies have been destroyed...
Swordsman: It would appear so!
He leaps forward, forces Drogal's blade above his head, and runs him through with his sparkling blade. Drogal, however, doesn't flinch.
Swordsman: Ah...you must be the favoured construct of your master, to be built that well.
Drogal: Indeed.
He pulls the blade out of his stomach, throwing it at the swordsman. He ducks, and the blade arcs past him, toward Nirewin.
Swordsman: GET DOWN!
Nirewin grabs Geoffrey and dives, and the blade sails over their heads, into the stump of a great tree.
Drogal: The master will not be pleased.
He turns and runs away into the dense forest, carving a path through the trees as he goes.
Swordsman: We'll meet again.
He brushes past Nirewin and Geoffrey, withdrawing it from the tree and replacing it in his scabbard.
Nirewin: Stranger, who ARE you?
Geoffrey: Are you a knight?
Swordsman: Well, I see we're all a team of academics, aren't we...my apologies. My name is Sir Arcturo of Silverpoint. I know who you are, Nirewin and little Geoffrey, but now is not the time for further explanations.
Geoffrey: Why is that?
Arcturo: Well, we're currently in a grove of flaming death, surrounded by murderous natives, and with Ni'Kash's army of constructs close by.
Nirewin: Point taken.
They get ready to escape...
(NSP: Ha, I CAN write for a Knight's Tail!)
[This message has been edited by The Last True Evil (edited March 25, 2004).]
[This message has been edited by The Last True Evil (edited March 27, 2004).]
The Last True Evil - consistent nobody in the Discussion Forum since 1998