The Ivory Star

Chapter 8

The ebon swathed figures glided forward, eerie bluish lights shining on the tips of their brandished staves. Robinius's men threw their chairs aside, and whipped out their blades. But the Red Priests stopped, and the two groups faced each other silently, each waiting for the other to make a move, with the common folk caught cowering the middle.

One of the Red Priests wore a long scarlet strip of cloth draped around his neck, and his staff was laced with patterns of intricate carvings. "Hold!" he cried. "Men of Valerion, we quarrel not with thee. We have come only for those taken from us. Return them to us, and we shall allow thee to live."

Forstaff hissed to Robinius, "Let 'em have 'em, then."

"Silence, Forstaff," Robinius muttered.

Eric and Angus, rusty Ophidian swords in hand, glanced uneasily about them, as they knew that these Armondians were seriously considering the Red Priests' request.

Robinius growled in defiance. "We have nothing of yours."

The figure in black spoke. "Thou art sorely mistaken, vassal of Valerion." His split tongue distorted the words hideously as he spoke, raising the staff to point at Eric and Angus. "These slaves were stolen from us, and we mean to have them. Return them to us, and we shall forgive thee the slaughter of our brothers."

"We did mankind a service in their killing!" Robinius spat in return. "And what is your business with them? They are now under Lord Valerion's protection."

"They are our prisoners."

"No longer."

"Then we have no choice but to kill you all."

Robinius howled, and leaped toward the figure in black. "Have at them, lads!" His bastard sword whistled up and down in a glittering arc that at once clove deep into the Red Priest's hood and crushed the gurgling corpse down into a heap on the floor.

As one, the Armondian warriors charged, thirsty for blood and vengeance, leaping over tables with blades glinting in the smoky orange firelight. Wine flew through the air from a thrown tankard. A Red Priest ducked reflexively, distracted enough to allow Robinius's blade to punch through his bowels and bare two feet of gore-smeared steel behind his back. Robinius dragged his weapon from the crumpling body as he darted lithely inside the reach of one of the ghastly staves. He caught the carved wood just above the wielder's grip, ripped the staff out of the pale hand, smashed his steel-plated elbow across the black-hooded face. As the Red Priest staggered back, Robinius's heavy boot snapped his knee backward with a sickening crunch, and the battered Red Priest collapsed into a whimpering heap. Robinius cast the staff away from him in disgust.

The Red Priests moved forward with the clash and clatter of melee. The townsfolk ducked under the tables or edged towards the door. Eric and Angus were left standing alone in the corner.

"These men are fighting for our lives!" Angus exclaimed.

"I know!" Eric cried, his sword quivering in his fist. He had never had to think about entering a deadly fray before. Until now they had been thrust into them.

"Stay close to me," Angus growled as he leaped over a table toward the nearest black figure.

Two Armondians screamed terribly, their heads falling unnaturally aside as they collapsed. Hot gore sprayed Eric's face, and he cringed reflexively, as the force of a nearby Armondian's blade slung an arc of sticky scarlet from its length before it crunched into the skull of another Red Priest.

A Red Priest stepped forward, his staff spinning in a sizzling whirlwind of death. Angus waited with hard-clenched weapon for the figure to attack. The staff licked forward, and Angus clumsily batted the stroke away, but would have been caught by the other end of the staff, if not for Eric. Eric had skirted the Red Priest, and, as the other deadly end of the staff flew for Angus's throat, he hacked through the Priest's hamstring. The collapsing leg threw the blow off enough for Angus to dodge. Angus wasted no time in taking advantage, and chopped down into the figure's shoulder in the crease between neck and torso. The corpse fell, dragging Angus's sword with it. He cursed as he struggled to jerk the blade out of the dead man's breastbone. Eric saved his life once again, stepping before him to block the attack of another enemy. An Armondian sword hacked into the Red Priest's skull blow from behind.