was obvious to Fil that the town was not going to survive. New anger surged through him and at this point he didn’t care if he died; he just wanted to inflict as much damage as possible to the beasts that did this to his home.
He gripped the spear with new vigor and raced toward Gorum’s home, running through the damaged door and into the room, attacking the first thing he saw. A boarg, with its back to the door, was sitting on top of Gorum and ripping his face apart with its teeth and claws.
Without thinking Fil ran forward and rammed his spear with all his strength into the back of the feeding beast. The spear point sunk in deep and then lodged against its sternum. The beast howled in pain, standing up and trying to grab the shaft from its back. The boarg turned around stumbling, Gorum’s blood coating its face, neck, and claws.
Fil’s anger still had not been quenched and he looked for another weapon to finish off the animal. He saw Gorum’s sword lying next to him. He grabbed it quickly. Fil was young, but strong for his age. His adrenaline took over and he hefted the sword with both hands and turned toward the stumbling beast. The boarg saw the weapon in his hands and lurched toward Fil hoping to kill the little human.
But Fil lifted the heavy blade and brought it downward with as much strength as he could muster, the sharp iron cutting deep into the boarg’s neck, causing the beast to stumble backwards, and ripping the sword from Fil’s hands. The animal wobbled on unsteady legs before finally falling to the ground, blood pulsing from the terrible wound.
A horrible gagging noise alerted Fil that he was not alone. He glanced against the wall, noticing a woman on the ground, her throat covered in blood. Fil ran towards her and knelt by her side. Blood had pooled all around her body and it was still slowly pouring from the lacerations at her throat. He noticed that it was Lorna, the mother of the cripple.
Lorna grabbed Fil’s arm with surprising strength, looking at him with the last of her life’s energy. “Jonas…..in the fireplace…..help him….protect him,” Lorna murmured quietly, her voice a soft gurgle. “Promise me, Fil,” she whispered, her strength finally leaving her.
Fil held her hand gently. Not knowing what else to say to the dying woman, he said what she wanted to hear. “I promise; I will look after him.” Fil stared down at Lorna as she died, her eyes glazing over and her blood smeared hand falling away. Fil did not know Lorna well, but the dying woman seemed to symbolize the entire town, the town that he had loved for fifteen years. He thought about his family and friends dead and dying, and tears began to fall, tears he could not stop as they cascaded down over the Lorna’s body.
He went on like that for a few moments, struggling to regain control of his emotions. The torrent of tears slowly stopped as Fil created a mental dam, a dam built of anger and determination. As the tears subsided, Fil gently used his hand to close her eyes. He got up and ripped the spear from the dead boarg. I’m going to survive this he thought; they will all pay for what they have done.
***
Airos and the Banthra clashed together, their blades creating a blur of magical energy. Airos’s skill with a blade was unrivaled, but he had never met a Bantrha in combat before. What Airos possessed in skill, the Banthra made up in magical enhancements. Airos’s blades spun faster and faster, creating a deadly barrage of steel that could not be stopped; so he thought.
But the Banthra was there, blocking every slash and lunge. The blackness of the creature began to suffocate Airos as they struggled together. He could feel the vileness seep his energy from him, the Bantrha hissing as he felt Airos begin to slow. Airos jabbed his long sword forward but fell off balance as the Banthra sidestepped the attack, slamming a spiked gauntlet into Airos’s side as the cavalier stumbled by. Airos felt the corrupt metal sink several inches into his unprotected side. The sting was unbearable, for the Banthra’s weapons were no ordinary steel. They were cursed weapons that created wounds that killed much faster and would not heal without magic.
“What’s wrong, cavalier? Does it sting?” the Banthra’s gravelly voice whispered. Airos was visibly