The Unknown Realm #4 (Waverly Stump and The 7 Realms)

XXXIII

As the night forthwent, the bitter strife against the Outcasts became even more intense. The Gypsies proved to indeed be sloppy fighters, and an unfortunate amount of them were cut down.

Waverly feared that all hope was lost. No matter how hard she fought, she could not save those far from her sight. She feared that the men from the Old Kingdom would arrive and cut them all down like game.

A stormcloud rolled in as midnight drew near. The clouds darkened to absolute blackness such that it was impossible to see a long way off as one would normally do at night. The women looked to be holding their ground against the Outcasts better than the men. They were angered to vengeance since it was they who had suffered the most at the hands of their oppressors.

Lightning crackled overhead, and in the next moment, a slight drizzle began.

Waverly took a short route through a rusted gate in the courtyard to arrive a narrow road that led into town. Since the manor was on a much lower level from the palace itself, it was quite a distance she had to run. Ma Ymer had since left for the manor to supposedly free her brethren, but was yet to return after many hours. She suspected that things had not gone as planned and opted to check on Ymer.

On her way, she was intercepted by an Outcast with an axe.

He brandished the weapon, standing with his feet apart so that he obstructed the path a great deal. His one eye was hidden by an unnatural eye plate that resembled the hard skin of a strange animal. Numerous useless items dangled from his belt and made a rattling noise whenever he swayed. The glare on his face was visible despite the thick darkness.

"Why does it always have to be you, you hateworthy bug?" He growled hoarsely, swinging his axe.

"Because it has to be me, you undesirable scapple." She growled in response.

The road was narrow, bordered by a rock face on one side, and a nasty drop on the other. If Waverly would fall, it meant instant death; either from contact with the scraggly road far below, or the protruding rocks near the sea even lower.

"You do not have any folly Elves to aid you this time." The Outcast pointed out with an almost victorious snigger.

Waverly scoffed. "I do not need their aid, fool. Your lot is quite easy to manage. Songs and plays do not matter on a battlefield."

"Neither does undergrown Human children. I will drive a stick through your little body and pin it up on this rock to teach you a lesson."

With a meaningful pause, Waverly cocked her eyebrow. "You know, I am somewhat eager to find out if you can truly do that."

She lifted a chin, in a rather mocking manner, so as to prod her opponent. "Go on then. Give it a shot!"

Her tone angered the Outcast. He roared and barreled forward. Given her petite frame, it was easy for her to sidestep, leading to her opponent missing his swing. She stepped on his foot and kicked him hard in the shin. He cried out as his leg broke.

"Maybe I will pin your body up this rock to teach you a lesson instead." She humphed.

"This self inflated pride you have will bring you to a painful end." The Outcast swore.

He swung his axe and its blade nicked Waverly just above her left eyebrow. She staggered back and connected with the rock face. The Outcast hurriedly pinned her with the wooden handle of his axe to her neck. He pushed with all his might, and Waverly found her throat constricting with intense pain. The movement of air became restricted, and her chest began to fill with heat and panic.

"Where is your so-called prize?" The Outcast taunted quietly. "Where is my old master? The Shade that once hosted him? He was a much better person than you are."