[43] Swords Master

[43] Swords Master

Bjorn set Tanisha down on the tailgate of the chaotic mess that was the goblin’s wagon. Neither of them had seen the inside of the vehicle, unlike the other wagons. The frame was a wooden box and was by far the largest wagon in the convoy. The inside looked to be divided into two floors, each packed to bursting with random products Owen and Helina sold.

Helina saw how large Bjorn had gotten and that Tanisha was covered in blood, and nearly fainted. “Wh-what, Bjorn?” Helina stuttered, mouth agape.

“Hunny, we’re dropping off Tanisha,” Owen said as he jumped up on the tailgate. “One of the gnolls is dead. Our boy here made sure of that, but we don’t know how many there are.”

Bjorn turned and lifted the limp Tanisha by her belt with his right mouth. The girl had no energy left to object or even sit up on her own.

Helina grabbed her, helping to rest her down comfortably. “Oh Trues above is she okay? Is that blood?”

“Don’t worry about it too much dear, she just used too much of her maya or something,” Owen said. “And the blood isn’t hers.”

“I am okay,” Tanisha said airily. “Just a little tired is all.”

Helina looked at Bjorn. He was covered in blood and fur.

“Are you two going, then?” Helina asked as she grabbed her husband's hand. “We could just... I mean gnoll are...” She looked conflicted. “We aren’t warriors...”

Owen and Helina got closer, their tails intertwining. Bjorn tapped out of the conversation and looked at Tanisha. She was barely conscious by that point, but she looked at him with a warm smile.

“Bjorn, I forgot to tell you. I am a mage now,” Tanisha said. “Well, something like a mage. After this I will tell you about everything... you... missed.” She passed out.

“Failsafe, can you still see her core?” Bjorn asked but he already knew the answer.

“Go Dad, I got you!” Tyr screamed as he expertly knocked two more arrows out of the sky.

Hrolf didn’t have to be told; he was already swinging his weapon. The temperature dropped rapidly as his blade flashed through the air. A trail of sizzling frozen oxygen followed behind the blade. Ice mixed with blood rapidly formed from the massive cut across the gnoll’s torso from hip to shoulder. The gnoll howled in pain as she attempted to use Flash Step to disengage, only to trip and fall backwards.

Another five arrows were deflected by Tyr in rapid succession. The archer was focused on them, but Hrolf was not going to let this chance go. He charged to the downed gnoll, then heard Tyr yell in pain, his sword snapped and an arrow stuck in his chest. Hrolf used every ounce of speed he had, every skill that he could use to make himself faster, every trick and then some to save his son from an onslaught of glowing arrows empowered by chakra.

The temperature continued to fall as he sliced every arrow out of the sky. Hrolf stood between his son, who had fallen backward onto the ground, and the gnoll archer. She was visible now; the glow of her chakra gave away her position. Between each arrow there was no time to check on Tyr; she wanted him dead.

The gnoll swordswoman ripped the ice from her body and took a health potion, closing up the wound. It wasn’t completely healed but she could move. She smiled as she looked at the now distracted Hrolf. She could reengage, but instead she turned to the makeshift defensive wall between her and the civilians. She could kill a few, get him to drop his weapon, and have more slaves to sell.

The gnoll grabbed her sword, licking her lips as she thought of the slaughter soon to take place. She reached the first cart and started hacking away at it with her sword, each strike causing more and more villagers to scream in fear. Suddenly a sickly sweet smell arrested her movements. Something in her told her she needed to run, but she didn’t know why. She noticed a mist at her feet.

At first the mist was thin and green, but it popped with magical discharges that quickly changed it black. In a second the cloud was thick and rolled over the camp like a typhoon. The swordswoman noticed something was wrong as soon as the healing potion ran its course and stopped undoing the damage the cloud was doing to her. Her skin blistered and eyes bled as she held her breath, beginning to run away. She couldn’t tell where she was going. The black cloud made everything look the same.

After a few Flash Steps she was finally out. Coughing up blood and shaking uncontrollably she took out her last healing potion; her muscles barely wanted to listen to her.

Something stepped out of the cloud. The creature had three heads and gray scales, its eyes shone in the moonlight as its mouths opened.

Bjorn bit the gnoll warrior with each of his heads, then used his tail to drag the warrior back into the Poison Cloud. He left to find the next one, confident his venom would finish the job. The mace wielder was still in the toxic cloud; she was unable to escape while the wendigo kept her pinned down. Bjorn turned his attention to the archer. She noticed him and fired several arrows his way. Hrolf emerged from the black cloud and deflected the arrows.

“Would those have gotten through our scales?” Bjorn asked Failsafe.

“I would prefer we didn’t find out, yeah?” Failsafe responded aptly.

Bjorn ran behind Hrolf, who was singularly focused on the archer. The air grew so cold around him that plants started to freeze as he passed by. Bjorn had to stop moving closer as the temperature was hurting him. The father screamed as he swung his weapon, deflecting one last arrow, and stabbed the archer in the chest. Ice erupted from the stab wound, and in seconds she was frozen solid.