Chapter9

"Corp Por!!" Kendra's hand pulsed with blue and purple energy and a bolt of pure mana shot from her palm like a bolt from her bow. It had a similar effect. The bolt blasted the guard directly in the chest, sending a shower of sparks in every direction, and knocked him gasping for breath from his mount. The armored assailant landed with a <<clank>>, war mace still in hand. As he struggled to sit up, Kendra shouted out another spell, "Vas Flam!" The war mace flew from his grasp as a fireball struck him square in the gauntlet. Kendra and her horse pranced around him, the female mage merely toying with him. "Por Ort Grav!" A bolt of lighting coursed through the armored man, causing him to cry out in pain. "Por Corp Wis!" The guard grasped his armored head, shouting and shuddering from the searing heat in his brain. "I've had enough fun... now you die... In Nox!" The man began to convulse as poison coursed through his veins. In due course, he vomited into his helm, spasming and clutching at his throat. Soon, his twitching ceased and he lay still, reeking of vomit and blood.

Meanwhile, Pobram had his hands full. As he and his sister spun around, he flung a purple potion at the man at the front of the charge, blasting him from his mount and into the guard behind him. They both toppled to the ground in a clattering and jangling of metal armors. Pobram barely raised his kryss in time to deflect the other guard's flashing scimitar. He spun about quickly, tossing a dagger produced from his sleeve at the guard who was retreating to make a second pass. The throw was slightly off, and instead sunk into the flesh of the guard's horse's rump. The horse whinnied piercingly, bucking wildly and sending it's owner head over heels to the muddy ground below. The horse raced away, still bucking angrily.

Pobram dismounted quickly and rushed to meet his attacker head-on, who had already bounced back up into a war stance. The guard was protected by a sturdy chainmail and ringmail combo, allowing him to withstand a hard fought battle, and still be nimble enough to come out on top of most of them. He had landed on his shield in the fall and broke it, bending it into an unusable state. He tossed it aside and rushed to meet Pobram in a flashing display of singing steel. Pobram struck the first blow, his kryss glancing off the guard's open faced helm. The guard shouldered Pobram, knocking him back a few feet, but the robed rogue maintained his balance and advanced again. The two circled each other, both men relatively well versed in the art of combat. The guard made several slices in the air at Pobram, who dodged them deftly or easily parried them with his own blade.

Pobram felt his training in the art of Fencing gave him an edge in combat such as this. He was taught from an early age to seek out the opponent's weaknesses and to exploit them... Already he had the guard frustrated with his inability to strike him as well as almost out of breath from the circling and wild thrusts. And in that, the guard erred. A wild swing which cut nothing but air left him off balance and Pobram nimbly spun himself around the guard, thrusting his kryss hard into the guard's back, splitting a few chain links from the sheer force. A gurgled cry of surprise lingered on the guard's lips and resurged as Pobram drew the kryss back. The guard sank to his knees, clutching the exit wound in his stomach.

Ken!! Heads up!" Pobram turned on his heel just in time to see what his sister was screaming about. One of the guards he had tangled up originally had regained his senses - and his war axe - and was swinging it at his head. Pobram ducked under the headsplitter, as it was lovingly called, but received a metal clad knee to the head in exchange. He fell back, reverse somersaulted, and leapt back to his feet to dodge yet another swing. He ducked low and to the side, thrusting his kryss at the guard's exposed side. The guard was ready, however, and had twisted to block it with his kite shield.

The two men backed off a ways, Pobram not wanting to get too close to that axe, and the guard not wanting his ribs tickled at such a close distance. This man was obviously better trained than his last opponent, so Pobram took extra precautions. This guard was clad in solid iron platemail, but bore no helm. His dark brown hair was cropped close to his head and his mouth was twisted in a sadistic grin.

"C'mon, thief... you think that's you're gonna be able to survive this one... what with no armor, a flimsy kryss, and no shield? Hah! I've seen better equipped beggars in the street!"

"Now, now... it's not nice to talk about your mother when she's not here to defend herself, now is it?" Pobram retorted. The guard was incensed by the comment and swung hard at Pobram's head. Pobram sidestepped and the axe whistled by.

"You petty thief... I'll crush yer skull. It'll look good in pieces on me mantle at home!"

"Not half as good as your wife's panties looked balled up in the corner of my room last night..." Pobram smirked. It was this sort of swordfight he craved the most.

The guard had heard enough. Enraged, he charged forward, war axe whipping about his head. Pobram plunged his kryss into the soft ground in preparation. As the guard closed in, Pobram concentrated on the axe and the man's armored grip. He knew from his extensive studies on armor and weapons lore just where to strike to get the guard to drop his weapon. As the war axe hurtled at his chest, Pobram threw his left hand up to block it, while striking forth with his right hand, catching the shaft of the axe full on with his palm. The force of his strike bent the war axe and the guards wrist back painfully, causing him to loosen his grip. Pobram snatched it with his left hand and tossed it to the side. The surprised guard looked down at his hand in disbelief, which gave Pobram the chance to reach down for his kryss. Almost as if in slow motion, the guard realized he was weaponless and looked up, just in time to see Pobram driving home his kryss, directly into his chest. The platemail tunic gave easily to the kryss's power, buckling in on itself, permitting the kryss to puncture his lung.

Gasping for air, the hazy eyed guard looked up from the wound in his chest, and into the eyes of his killer. The robed man smirked at him, then reached under his chin to pull away the disguise he had been wearing. Purple hair cascaded down from under the mask and fake bald head, and cold green eyes stared back at him.

"When you resurrect, tell thy king... and thy Captain... Kendrik Soulbane will soon be dealing them a similar hand..."
�