Songs of Souls

007: The Hiss of the Broken Blade

A gnarled root snagged Hirua's boot, sending him sprawling into the moss. Grit dusted his vest, but he couldn't stop the warmth that crept up his neck.

Einntyr doubled over, wheezing with laughter, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Even Deynfif seemed amused. These two!

"Worth the fall, eh?" Einntyr managed to choke out, offering him a hand up. "Maybe that fancy sword of yours doubles as a tripping stick!"

He snatched Einntyr's hand, heat rising in his cheeks like a pot left too long over the fire. "Don't tempt me! I might leave you out for the next muckledeor, see how funny you are then." He glared at Einntyr, but his brother just grinned back, unfazed.

Einntyr clapped him on the shoulder with a force that sent him almost tumbling again. "Nah, you like me too much," his brother's voice loud and annoyingly cheerful. "Besides, who else would keep the world interesting?"

Zevas threw back his head, a high-pitched cackle, like a boiling kettle shrieking in delight, erupting from his throat.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The man had a chest like a barrel of ale, but his laugh...that was something else. Then, as quickly as it began, the laughter died.

The familiar sounds of the forest - the buzz of insects, the traakan's high-pitched questioning trill - vanished. An unsettling silence pressed in around them, thick and heavy like undercooked dough. His smile faded, replaced by a frown that felt as bitter as the dregs of old coffee.

Zevas snapped into a crouch, axe a blur of motion.

His own hand mirrored the move, fire blade whishing as he drew it. Energy radiated in his grip, eager for release. The sweet scent of leaves twisting into something sharp hit his nostrils, the air prickling his skin like a hundred unseen eyes boring into him. Words were choked off, useless. Only the tightening in his chest, the heat of the blade against his palm, felt real.

A guttural snarl tore through the undergrowth, a sound that scraped raw against his nerves, like metal scraping metal. It wasn't the familiar snarl of a predator, but something that clawed at his insides, left a taste like spoiled berries in his mouth. The forest floor rustled, mottled blue fur flashed. Curved fangs, each the size of his forearm, glinted. Liquid flowed around its form, shimmering in the light.

The large beast lunged! Glistening claws aimed for Deynfif's exposed back! With a roar of defiance, he twisted, meeting the beast's attack with a clash of his fire blade against the beast's water claws.

He faced the beast head-on. A rush of movement erupted from both sides. His brothers, closing in, a familiar maneuver.

Jagged earth erupted upwards, a geyser of stone and dirt beside him. The impact was solid, yet the earth softened and flowed against its water-slick hide like honey on warm bread. Deynfif exclaimed, "We'll take care of this, Captain!"

"Water Kleubiast! Be careful, lads." Zevas boomed.

He lunged, fire blade aimed low – hamstring the beast, that's the plan. A clang rang in his ears as claws met the worn elemenium of his blade.

Einntyr roared, right hand outstretched like a duelist's blade, "Air Style: Breeze Blade!" The air around Einntyr's fist twisted, a high whistle slicing through the kleubiast's roars. The beast leaped back, narrowly avoiding the attack.

"Right! Hirua, brace! Now!" Deynfif's voice sliced through the snarls and clashing energies. The earth shuddered beside him, stones flying up around the kleubiast's paws. Was Deynfif trying to trap it?

Sweat slicked his palm, but he pressed the attack. Like fire sprayed with water, he darted in and out. Flames danced along his blade, each strike met water-slick claws, a hiss of steam rising from the clash. He was pushing the beast back, but it was like trying to grip a raw egg yolk. "Can't hold on forever!" he growled, jaw aching. Each parry, each thrust, felt like he was hacking through thick mud. Fire against the advantage of water. Slimy feline!