226 Servant of the Axe – Inquisitor

Chapter Type: Conflict (versus other), Character Development

I’d been expecting an attack from Tarantula sooner or later, so I was prepared to grab Flavian and shield from my System inventory.

He had, of all things, a boar hunting spear, with which he sent my shield flying before I could secure it. Dodging the bar, I swung my Flavian into his mail-armored side before he could compensate.

“A curse upon you, demon-spawn!”

I tried to grasp the hilt of his spear, to prevent him from pulling it back and smacking me on the back of my head. He sidestepped, wrenching it from my grasp.

“Titan-spawn.” I said, dodging to my right, “different lineage.”

He pursued me around the once-sacred space, lance tip darting toward me but never quite landing the solid blow he wanted. As I could, I struck at the weapon with my Flavian; I wasn’t going to get past its reach unless...

Something untoward happened. He stumbled as a bush somehow got tangled up in his belt.

He caught himself on his spear, and then could not dislodge it from the ground. I struck at his exposed hand...

.....

[You have scored an ORANGE critical for four times normal damage.]

Two of his fingers flew from his hand, neatly severed. It couldn’t have done much damage; his sword was out and flashing at me, a light cutlass that seemed to turn with supernatural quickness.

At least I’d had time to draw my knife, affording me just a bit of extra protection. It was a skinning knife, not meant for combat, and it nicked and sparked with every parry.

Damn it! Who had trained this guy? He might not have anything on Victor Findseth, but he seemed just a hair better than myself. He didn’t try anything fancy, but his blade was either parrying mine, on approach toward my neck, or thrusting toward my heart.

I saw my shield off to one side, but he noticed, and moved to interpose. I took the opportunity to swing at the back of his calf, only to discover metal bars woven into his boots.

That HAD to be uncomfortable, but his footwork showed no sign of it.

Far to the south, out at sea, lightning flashed, and thunder boomed. We fought in the sun, both of us expecting the fight to be over before those dark clouds reached us.

He maneuvered to force me toward the river, and I let him.

My tool knife reached the limits of its Condition, and the steel broke.

[You have suffered a YELLOW critical for x2 damage; sixteen points of damage received; after armor, ten points of damage have been taken, 18/40 health remain.]

Well, that was unfortunate, and by the way my opponent was breathing, more of an equalizer than an advantage.

Emboldened by his sudden luck, he pressed his advantage, driving me knee-deep into the river.

“Why won’t you just die?” he asked, “Die in the name of Muhammed!”

“Muhammed?” I asked. I’d taken him for a Neonen, he was certainly clad as one. “What are you doing this far south of your Khan?”

“You racist, ignorant asshole!” he drove me deeper into the river. “Do you even know of the Moorish enlightenment?”

“Diyargh!” I screamed, pushed over the steep edge into the deeper part of the river.

Even as the sheltering waters closed over my head, I knew he would follow.

I didn’t know WHY, I certainly hadn’t knocked over any mosques that I knew about. But sure enough, he sheathed his sword, and swam after me.

Well, I had a healing potion, and time to drink it. So, I did. Turns out drinking a potion to deny it to your enemy is worth Envy, of all sins.

historical

He sank deep in his mail, half swimming half charging at me.

I swam against the current to meet him. This was my turf and...

He clasped his belt, uttered a word of power, and was suddenly breathing as deeply as I was.

What the? Nobody SANE risked magic items with that kind of power.

I did a quick Mystic Vision, and re-appraised my options. Escape still wasn’t among them, and he had enough blessings to make winning dubious as well.

He didn’t quite have a panoply effect going, but...

And then it was my claws against his steel knives, our blood clouding the river around us. Losing, I was definitely losing... and then, he just stopped.

He planted his feet in the riverbed, and howled his frustration at me.

I leaned into the current, and casually back-stroked my way to freedom. His belt must have a limited duration, then. I guess I would live long enough for the healing potion to kick in.

[You have 6/40 health remaining.]

He tried hurling a curse after me, once he was on the bank. Do you have any idea how easy it is to drown a curse from inside a river?

You bet my Flavian it was easy! Oh... my Flavian was somewhere upstream. Near enough to the shrine. I could get it tomorrow when I returned.

Oh, I wasn’t heading back, not on just six health points. I made haste, sprinting back to the inn.

At least I could still run.

Whomever that guy represented, he was decked out like a divine champion, but lacked the warrior skill such a status would imply.

“Rhishi! What happened?” Kismet asked, when I finally made it upstairs.

“Tarantula has competition.” I said.

“What? I most definitely do NOT. Although from the looks of it, she did a number on you.”

“He.” I said. “Definitely a male.”

“Is he also soaking wet?” Madonna asked.

“He was the last time I...”

“F*cking coward!” He screamed, cutlass in hand, “You’ve nowhere else to run, now.”

Exasperated, I drew my wood axe from inventory, moved to cover the top of the stairs.

“As if you have the reach to stop me from coming up.”

“You idiot, just go away.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

“Because we aren’t fighting a duel, you dolt.”

Madonna had sheathed her sword. “May I really?”

I waved a hand. “My gift to you.”

She raised a pair of hands wreathed in flame.

“Mother of whores!” he screamed, hurrying up the steps. Just a shade too slow.

“Column of Hellfire!” she cast.

He didn’t even scream, flesh charring away as though it were turning to vapor. The tip of his blade struck the stair just below where I was standing.

Madonna shrieked and spat.

“Water, friend to river and ocean, hear my plea, grant my request. Move Water!”

It would take half an hour to get soup ready, but I kept the inn from burning down. I groaned, looking at the state of the stairs. “That’s going to take FOREVER to fix.”

“Curse the priest who first thought of soul marks!” Madonna said, clearly irate. “He’s gone, he’s safe from my retaliation.”

“My condolences,” I said, making my way to my room. I had neither lunch nor dinner that day, but awoke with 18 health points and a vicious hunger.

My Flavian, as I had suspected, wasn’t far downstream. It’s condition wasn’t the best; it probably needed to be re-forged.

And my poor, poor shrine. Blood sacrifice and wrath coated the holy space, making mockery of my hard work. One of us had even splashed a prayer tablet,

“The two of you really let each other have it.” Red Tarantula said, wiggling the boar spear back and forth.

In the end, it took both of us, and a shovel. The spear was named Boarsbane, in the language of the Russ.

“A weapon of the Russ? What is that doing here?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I only know what I know. Ask the spear, maybe it remembers.”

“Nope, not risking sanity if it talks back.” She said. “But it IS a thing of beauty. How many men, I wonder, can I kill with this spear?”

“I guess that depends on which men, and how quickly you go after them.”

She took up a stance that would have done Gamilla proud. Actually, when WAS the last time I saw Gamilla practicing? “Fight you for the spear?”

“Take it,” I said, tsking over the state of my shield.

Tarantula shrieked, and leapt atop one of the shield-houses for the prayer stones. “This area is over-run by rats. Horrid creatures.”

“How did you cross the ocean, if mere rats scare you?”

“Mere rats, nor the diseases they bear, scare me.” She replied, “But I do find myself without a living cat to properly resist their foul ways.”

“Which week is it? Is Thawing week the next or two weeks off?”

“The next, I think.”

.....

“After that comes spring.”

“Indeed.” She said, rubbing the haft of her new spear. “I think it is time, then, that we end this once and for all. After you’re healed, of course.”

“Of course.” I said. “I shall remember who it was who gave me warning rather than a spear in the back.”

“Only if you survive me in a few days.” She said.