Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,124

dark. The brief flash lit the hatred on Ghaul’s face like a torch to Shyn’s keen eyes, and the instant of pause as steel struck stone gave him time to parry the blow from his face. He countered, their swords sparking. Shyn wondered if the meager light allowed Ghaul to see him, too.

Ghaul took the offensive, raining blows at Shyn, kicking him, driving him back against the end wall. Another thrust. Shyn parried, elbow slamming the wall. Ghaul’s blade glanced off his forearm and blood filled the border guard’s gauntlet. Survival instinct took over and he began to change as he dodged another blow.

Is there enough room?

He couldn’t control the transformation in such situations so set his jaw and concentrated on defense until the change finished. Ghaul’s next strike hit full force against his sword’s guard, tearing it from his hand. There wouldn’t be time to change.

Or anything else.

He crossed his arms in front of himself, leather and mail deflecting Ghaul’s blows for a moment, but only for a moment. The steel finally slid through leather and mail, flesh and organs, not stopping until the tip touched stone behind him. Shyn sucked air in through his teeth, burning in his pierced lung. Ghaul loomed close, the hate in his eyes glowing in the darkness.

“Why?” Shyn whispered.

“I need the farmer to carry it,” he said drawing his blade upward, slicing through more organs. “The others are nothing. You’re the only one who can stop me.”

Shyn’s mouth moved as he formed another question, but only blood bubbled from his lips. The dim light of the tiny shaft overhead began to fade, but Shyn saw the blue sky and bright sun far above, felt the wind whisk through his feathers, and smiled.

Darkness pressed around Khirro like a cloak of fear and dread spread across his shoulders, wrapped about his body. At his elbow, Elyea’s breath came short and sharp. To his left, Athryn waited at the mouth of the other tunnel, guarding against whatever might emerge. The clatter of metal striking metal died away, followed by silence. Khirro dared not call out again as he struggled to keep his hand holding the Mourning Sword from shaking.

An ache knotted Khirro’s shoulder, tension burning his muscle with the weight of the sword. He wanted to stretch his pained muscles, but was afraid any movement would give him away. If he let his guard down, that would be the moment something leaped from the darkness. The discomfort had become almost unbearable when they heard noises.

At first Khirro couldn’t distinguish the nature of the sound or where it came from, but it soon resolved into footsteps. Hard leather slapped against stone floor, moving quickly, sending echoes bouncing down the long passageways making it impossible to tell how many feet made the sound.

The noise grew louder.

Khirro’s muscles tensed further. He scanned the darkness trying to see Athryn.

Where is it coming from? In front? Behind?

The runes running up the blade of the Mourning Sword cast a mute light like the dim red embers of a dying fire. Khirro saw Elyea’s strained features painted with blood by the faint glow, her jeweled dagger in hand. She didn’t look away from the tunnel.

The echoes intensified, tangling upon one another until it seemed an army approached. At the last second, Khirro realized the sound emanated from the tunnel before him, the one down which Shyn and Ghaul had gone. He drew back his blade, the runes brightening at the prospect of blood like an animal salivating before it eats.

Ghaul must have seen the runes as he skidded to a halt out of sword’s reach. The soldier held his own blade in his hand, the steel marked by dark patches along its edge which could only be blood.

“What happened?” Khirro asked dropping his blade to his side.

Ghaul bent at the waist and gulped air in ragged breaths. Visions of monsters or undead Kanosee soldiers dogged Khirro’s thoughts as he waited for him to recover.

“We must go,” Ghaul panted, gasping more of the stale tunnel air. “Death lies down that tunnel. Shyn is lost.”

Elyea gasped. “What?”

Athryn joined them, the Mourning Sword casting swirling fire in his silvered mask.

“They surprised us,” Ghaul said finding his breath. “Came from nowhere in the dark. We fought, but they killed Shyn. I slew them, but there may be more. We can’t stay here. The other tunnel is the only way.”

The runes’ glow faded and blackness crept back in around them. Khirro reached forward tentatively, resting his hand on