Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Lucan followed his father down a gentle incline, treading on patches of dry grass and gravel. Their men-at-arms had returned to his father’s command, since their number could bear to be a lone patrol, Lord Arden had let them form one, with Lucan, his father, and eight men-at-arms.

They would take part in protecting the approach to the largest village in the borderlands. Their troop would patrol a considerable stretch between the village and the forest, though they wouldn’t protect that whole stretch of land alone. It was split between them and Sir Vicks. If any troop found that it would be overwhelmed, it would signal for aid from the reserve accompanying Lord Arden.

His father was tying the pouch given to him by Sir Sarin to his belt when Lucan heard Ryder whispering, “Do you think it’s magic?”

“Not everything from the Isles is magic, Ryder,” Clifton’s bored voice responded.The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Ñøv€lß1n.

Ryder hushed in response to his companion’s louder voice and continued, “But I heard that even its smoke glows.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear then.”

“Why would it be so costly if it isn’t magic?”

“Why don’t you go to the Isles and ask them?”

“If we live through this, perhaps I will.”

“Stop chattering like idle wives, both of you,” Cordell commanded.

Lucan stifled a chuckle at that. Ryder’s question was a reasonable one. But the answer to it was known to no one but the violetash makers in the Heaven Isles. He was curious about it himself, but as Clifton had said, the only way to know was to go to the Isles and ask them and be laughed at.

They were already passing the village by. It was a distance away on their right, empty enough to make the more superstitious souls suspect it being haunted if they didn’t know why it was so empty. If one looked closely, they’d see the signs of habitation though, tended fields and the barricaded windows.

Lucan heard a yell from the side and barely had a chance to shift his body out of a spear’s path as another Wilderman charged him. He avoided the spear but not the man, who hit him with his whole weight, throwing him to the ground. Lucan rolled twice, coming up in a crouch to find Heath thankfully barring the spearman’s way to him. But not a moment too soon, his own opponent was on him, smelling weakness and raising his club for a heavy overhead strike.

Lucan only had time to let go of his shield and use his Star, moving forward while in a crouch. He felt a brief streak of pain in the back of his right leg, likely from the strain of the uncomfortable starting position, but the Star fulfilled its purpose, slipping him under his opponent’s arm. The Wilderman’s club hit the ground instead of Lucan, and he realized what happened, spinning hastily with his shield at the same time Lucan rose with a slash.

The Wilderman succeeded in bringing the edge of his shield to bear only to be met with Lucan’s second Wraith Strike, finishing its work by shearing off part of the shield. Lucan followed up with another Wraith Strike which his opponent parried with his club, the bone too thick to receive more than a notch from the Skill. Then the Wilderman surprised him by throwing his broken shield at him. Lucan only got a chance to raise his sword arm, deflecting it with his forearm. It was a painless block but it succeeded in blinding him long enough for his adversary to regain his balance and charge in for an angled strike. Lucan used the Star once more, moving backwards and tripping on his own feet but miraculously shrugging it off and regaining his balance.

Not willing to let go of the edge he’d gained, the Wilderman let his weight carry him forward and wound up for another strike. A vicious swing came from Lucan’s right. He swung his sword hard with both hands, meeting the blow and parrying it, then taking a step to the left to absorb the force that caused his forearm to shiver. He tried to lunge in for a quick thrust, but the Wilderman patted it aside. They exchanged one, two, three more strikes, and Lucan realized they were evenly matched. He caught a glance of his father disemboweling another Wilderman as though it was a farmer’s fieldwork before his eyes returned to his own fight.

He got an idea, moving backwards to create distance, and as expected, the bloodthirsty Wilderman threw his weight forward to charge after him. Lucan didn’t wait for the Wilderman to take his first step, immediately using the Star and moving towards him. One moment he was too far to be struck by his opponent’s club and the next he was close enough to smell his breath, with his arms wound back for a proper twisting side thrust.

His weight already thrown forward, the Wilderman had no chance to avoid meeting the swiftly approaching blade. Lucan added a Wraith Strike to his attack for good measure, and the tip of his sword slid into his opponent’s chest unimpeded. The pace at which they slammed into each other was so great that the sword ended up going through the Wilderman all the way up to the hilt, impaling him.

As though the world had slowed down, Lucan saw the young man’s eyes widen in pain, and perhaps disbelief, then a stuttering gasp came out of him. He heard the club hitting the ground as his opponent’s disbelieving eyes stared at–no–through him, as though gazing at something leagues away. Another, shorter stuttering attempt at a breath, then the Wilderman’s body jerked and he lost his ability to stand, sliding off Lucan’s sword on his way to the ground.

Lucan watched the horror on the wide-eyed man’s face, only now coming to realize that his own eyes were just as wide and his breath was held as though in anticipation of a curse. He took a shuddering breath that caught in his throat and turned towards the sound of yells, feeling relief at being pulled away from the sight in front of him.

He saw what remained of the raiding party fleeing, Ryder streaking to follow them and Cordell wounding back to throw his spear into the back of one of the raiders.

“Stop!” His father’s voice froze the two men-at-arms. He was looking behind them with a severe countenance. They all turned to look in the same direction, seeing the smoke trailing up, most certainly from the village.

“How did they get past Sir Vicks?” Lucan asked, aghast.

Everyone turned to look in the direction where the other knight’s patrol was supposed to be, and they glimpsed the remnants of violet smoke rising towards the sky.

“Damnation,” his father growled. “Move!”