The Slime Farmer
/ The Slime Farmer 56 The Missing Caravans 9
Defi rolled away and let the Current soothe the pain in his back, numbing the sensation. He would likely pay for it later, but at the moment he needed to be swift and flexible.
A sword dance was not a simple thing to do.
He deflected the sword strikes from the mercenary leader. The cold rage in the opponent's eyes was also evident in every strike of the relentless attack.
"You dare wear the sigil of the Gamber Blades and go against me? I am Laro. And you, I care not who you are. You will die here."
Here, in the shadows of the underground, there was no façade like those on the outside who wore the garb of bandits. The inner guards were dressed in good leathers and practical boots. On the chestpiece of most of the guards was a circle of swords with the tips overlapping each other white against black, mimicking the three golden crossed blades of the imperial infantry.
"You dare wear that sigil and commit crimes against innocent imperial citizens?" retorted one of the soldiers.
A guard moved to silence her.
The soldier punched him, then stole the guard's sword. "Come then! You cowards, so what if you starved us, so what if you beat us down? Honorless traitors! This is all the victory you can get!"
Defi could only trip one of the guards into another before Laro was on him again, sword skidding against his collarbone.
The man had aimed at his heart.
Defi could only leave the soldiers and the noble boy to save themselves until Emra and the others were done in the corridor. Laro was a better swordsman than he, and he needed to concentrate for his own survival. Besides, he was not the only one who put on enemy armor.
His advantage was the Current that made him faster, stronger, and more perceptive.
Laro was trained well and the man was using Shade to enhance his fighting prowess without using sigilcards, much like how Defi used the Current in fact.
It was not the first time he saw similarities in the sorceries of the two worlds. If he entered the Terium Gate, which connected Ontrea to a third world, he had an inkling their sorceries would have some similarities as well.
Ascharon had seven Shades of sorcery that every Ascharonian could do. Everyone could use the seven, but most were inclined to one or two that the sorcerer, or mage as they called them in Ascharon, learned more easily to control.
Most people stuck to the Shade of their inclination. One Shade was not too difficult to master, especially if a person had the knack for it. However, training was expensive in both time and resources if a person wished to completely realize that natural potential.
The seven Shades were red flame, blue water, orange earth, yellow sunlight, green healing indigo air, and purple moonlight. The person who could control all seven to a usable degree was rare.
Laro appeared to be using three.
His senses flowing with the Current, he could sense the vitality in the man split and entwine. Defi imagined that the splittings were the Shades the man was using and the entwining meant he was using them together. The ease in which the strands split and came together was smooth and natural.
How fascinating.
He had been practicing sensing people while immersed in a Circle, but this was the first time he'd seen anything like how Laro's vitality behaved.
He'd only sensed others use a sigilcard before, but the activation of a card used Shade only briefly. Not to mention, most cards he saw contained spells that were of singular Shades. There were no combinations of Shades like Laro was doing.
Did the entwining have something to do with the chill in the air around the man, or was that just his usual disposition?
"How long do you plan on running around, little rat?"
Defi nearly smiled at the audible strain in the man's tone. Even the coldest hardest facades could be cracked, no one had perfect composure. He'd deliberately used a sword dance that was geared toward dodging and speed. It was most used in retreat, which was why it was not popular in the learning halls.
After the Stormhawk Sword Art, he was most proficient in the Humming Snake Sword. He'd put emphasis on it because his mentor said there was value in its learning for both a warrior-priest and a leader.
And so he had learned, in the Humming Snake, how to take a step back.
The man he was facing was a cold man, one who disliked nonsense and was a proponent of efficiency. Laro's strikes and advances had no flourish, no wasted moves. His timing and footwork were impeccable.
At his level, Defi could only really hold the mercenary leader at bay. His third sword art would have been quickly overwhelmed.
He could only resort to taunting and running away, chipping away little by little at the opponent.
Every tiny crack in the icy wall the man put up around himself was a small chance of inducing a mistake. The mercenary leader was furious.
But that was just one advantage.
So Defi took a step back, and another, and another, until added advantage showed itself or he saw the opportunity to make one.
Defi lunged, his strike easily parried.
He lashed out with a powerful kick. The man stepped back in consternation, and Defi attacked again.
The man's eyes narrowed and a twist of his sword once more put Defi at a disadvantage.
Defi stepped back, to allow the noble boy to strike at Laro with a halberd. He'd seen the boy approaching just in time, the flash of wheat-colored hair gleaming in the torchlight.
Their eyes met for a moment, an understanding reached silently.
He surged forth, following that strike, retreated again.
The boy, a few years younger than he, was skilled. He and Defi danced around each other, attacking and retreating in turns.
The man's lip curled in frustration and he attacked furiously, his sword shining with that combination Shade, his movements faster than before.
Defi evaded in surprise. Ascharonians could infuse power into their weapons?
Excellent!
He took a breath while the younger boy redirected a strike with a sweep of the halberd. But unable to reorder his footwork in time to avoid the counterattack, he went down hard.
Defi blocked, Current surging through his sword. The sword material was resistant, but Defi persisted.
Laro recovered from the surprise, and pressed forward.
Defi's sword, infused with Current, cracked in half. His sword dance faltered, his breath caught in dismay.
He stumbled back to avoid the opponent's triumphant death blow.
But Laro kicked, in imitation of Defi's earlier move.
Defi fell.
Laro stood over him, sword rising. Then he stopped. Blood bloomed from his chest, a gory flower cradling the tip of a blade. His eyes widened, disbelief and rage now evident on formerly expressionless features.
"The captain…" he said, short of breath, sword falling from his hand, "will never bow to anyone."
He crumpled to the ground, eyes dulling.
Defi stood slowly, took up the opponent's blade to re-arm himself. "Thank you."
The boy, breath coming in pants, dropped the bloody and bent halberd. "No, it is you who came to our rescue. I am grateful."
"Then let there be no debt between us."
The boy blinked, then beamed at Defi. "Coren zi Grem. You may call me Cor!"
"Defi." He frowned, noting that nearly all the people from both sides were down.
His lips thinned.
"Oh? Good work," Emra passed by, calmly slicing a knife into the neck of a guard struggling to rise. "that's the leader, yes?"
"The Gamber Blades," Natan said from behind her, "are led by Zises Toren, former captain in the imperial army."
"One of your ilk then."
Natan ignored her. His eyes, dark in a face mottled by bruises, studied Defi and Cor. "You two are well?"
Defi had a few cuts, and his back was still bleeding from having been scraped on sharp stone. His knee felt sprained from Laro's kick. But the injuries were not too serious. The Current was already slowly healing them.
He nodded.
Coren zi Grem did the same. "I am well enough. The others?"
��Reisei is…still alive." There was something darkly pained in Natan's eyes. "We have said our farewells."
The boy opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded tightly instead. He walked to the group of people gathered nearby. Of the twelve that were prisoners, only seven were left standing.
He saw the two Genlet hunters stripping themselves out of armor, their faces disgusted.
Defi turned his gaze to Natan. "I must ask, who gave you those wounds?"
He sheathed the sword, and started taking off the armor as he waited for the response.
It was good armor and the camouflage would hold up a little longer, but he understood the sentiments of the others.
The circle of blades, white on black, once respected by everyone in the province of Havare, was now a symbol of betrayal.
It might not be logical, but in some things not even logic will trump heart.
There was silence.
He looked up at Natan.
The man had a faint smile on his face. "Sorry, Defi. But that person, she's mine."
Chapter end
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