Elan jolted back into action then, hands grasping along the ground as she scrambled for a weapon. Her small, lithe hands closed on a thick piece of wood in short order, and she rose up with it in her hand, yanking hard on it until the thick root came clear of the ground. The earth didn't want to relinquish its hold on the sturdy wood, though, so she jammed her foot down into the crook of it and pulled hard.
Forgive me, God of the Wood. I need this now, she thought as she groaned with the stress until the wood snapped under the strain and she staggered back, barely keeping her balance.
She turned to see Kaern sweep his blade around in a circle, dipping the point low behind his shoulder as he brought his hands over and around his head to deflect an attack against his back. He let the blade keep its momentum and swept it back around until it flicked out in the motion of a whip that brought its point on a wicked arc that opened up the throat of another bandit in passing.
He was hard pressed now, though, his sword sweeping in that never-ending circle as he deflected one blow, blocked another, and struck out only to be blocked by a third. Two men had fallen to his blade in only a few seconds of the fight, but the others were now pressing closer together, attacking in unison, and making life very hard on Kaern.
Elanthielle gripped her weapon, poor though it was, and padded lightly forward.
She wasn't Kaern; she didn't yell as she struck. She hit them like she'd hit the demon sentries in that eternity past, striking fast and silent. There were no shadows here to hide in, such as she'd used then, but their distraction with Kaern were good enough for her purposes.
Her father had talked to her endlessly about honor and how one met a warrior face to face. He said that you only hunted animals because people deserved better.
The demons she'd killed, they were animals to her view. They had killed her family from ambush, giving no quarter and offering no mercy. They didn't deserve to be given the niceties of honor her father had taught her, so Elan had hunted them like the animals she took for food when she was hungry.
These were no different.
The heavy crack of bone and wood meeting seemed to overshadow the clang of steel on steel for a moment, sounding completely out of place in the frenzied fracas that had developed around the man who was supposed to be easy pickings. The man who had the misfortune of providing the bone that made the sound went down without further distraction, his body falling into the ground with a solid thud.
Elan didn't even yell then as she drew back the wooden club she wielded, dropping back on her heel as she spun around to give a more dangerous speed to the weapon, and snapped it back at the next closest man.
He met her with steel, his sword biting into her club and digging deep, but her club had the momentum and the weight behind it, and lodging his weapon into the wood cost him his blade as it was jarred from his hand.
He swore a vile oath, charging at his attacker with his bare hands, and surprised Elan as he struck her high and sent them both tumbling over. She lost her club then, the extra weight of the sword yanking it from her hand as much as the tumble did, and instead struck out at her attacker with her fists and elbows in a snarling desperation.
Her blows were too light, though, and had little enough effect as he held her down. He snarled, yanking a double-edged dagger from his hip sheath.
Elan gasped in surprise and pain as the sudden pain bloomed through her chest and threatened to take the light of consciousness from her, perhaps permanently.
*****
Steel clashed on steel as Kaern let another sword slide away from his hands, run along the length of his blade, and fall away to the wayside as he spun through the battle. He was bleeding from a half dozen minor wounds, but even a major one wouldn’t kill him easily so he wasn't worried about the small stuff. His curved blade caught the heavy hacking blows of its adversaries on its side, preserving the edge for the coup as Kaern let it flicker out, seeking the blood of the enemy.
Three men lay dead or dying on the ground now, their blood soaking into the packed clay of the path as Kaern focused on number four.
The scream of pain behind him was a distraction he could ill afford then, his head twisting around just enough to see Elan on the ground with the hulking figure over her, flashing dagger against her chest.
He tried to move to her but was soon blocked and prevented by the remaining brigands. Even while he was the better swordsman of the group, he wasn't good enough to both fight them and help her. Elan would have to make do on her own for a while longer, he determined. Otherwise there was the chance that he wouldn't be around to help her ever again.
If he cut loose, he knew he could take them all quickly, but her life would as likely fall with them, so Kaern steeled himself for a dangerous and dirty close-in fight that really didn’t play to his advantages at all. He was by no means weak with a blade, or most any other weapon wielded by man or demon-kind, but it certainly wasn’t his strongest point either.
Kaern growled, snapping his blade up in an angled defense that caught a hacking down-sweep of his foe's heavier blade. Steel screamed against steel as the heavier blade forced itself on Kaern's elegant one, forcing the point down. As the point dropped, the angle of Kaern's blade became greater, and the heavy blade slid away from him.
As it fell off the tip of his sword, Kaern used the sudden release of pressure to snap his weapon forward and cleaved it through his opponent’s throat, biting into cartilage and bone until it slid clear through into open air again.
The spray of blood spattered back on Kaern as he lunged past, putting all his weight into the blow, then the strike was ended and the stunned man stood there for a second.
Only a second though, as Kaern snapped a reverse kick into the dead man that knocked him into two of his fellows, toppling his unattached head in the process. The two distracted men screamed in shock and fear as the headless corpse of their former companion landed in their laps, impaling itself on one of their swords, and brought them to the ground.
Kaern ignored them and turned to look at a grim-faced man who stood between him and where Elan was still buried under the hulking figure that had tackled her. He flicked his sword down, spattering the ground with blood as the centrifugal force carried the fluid off the shiny blade, leaving only a hint of red sheen to color its steel gleam.
*****
The pain screamed through Elan's chest, or maybe she was screaming. She couldn’t be sure. Whichever it was, the pain was like a dagger stabbed into her chest, which was appropriate, she thought in a wildly bizarre moment of clarity.
She screamed again, though not in pain. Her anger focused her yell and the force of it startled the man on top of her as she jerked her knee up hard between his legs.
His eyes widened in shock, staring down into hers, and Elan stared back in equal shock for a second as she wondered at the effect of what she'd done. Her blow hadn't been that powerful, had it?
She didn't guess at it for long, however, as she screamed again and slammed her small fist into the side of the man's face. There was a crack of bone then and a flash of pain spiked through her wrist and arm, but she ignored it as the man toppled over.
Her free hand went to her chest, grabbing at the dagger that was tearing through her. As she rolled over onto her side, the dagger came away and she looked at it, and herself, in shock.
There was no blood on her clothes, and the dagger was clean and unbloodied as well.
What? Elan shook her head, fighting the shrieking pain in his chest as she forced herself up.
It didn't matter how, it didn't matter what. She was alive and mobile, and Kaern was still outnumbered. She got to her feet quickly, staggering as another blossom of pain erupted in her chest, and quickly headed to where the sword and stick were lying on the ground.