Darkspur

Chapter 3 - Darkspur

The pink, swirling droplet run swiftly down the pale woman's brow, pausing briefly at the bridge before carrying on along the ridge of her thin, pointed nose. From the tip, the mixture of blood, sweat and rain formed a steady drip, drip, drip that splashed to the muddy puddle on the forest track below. She could taste the blood in her mouth, a blend of her own and that of her foes, she was coated in the sticky black substance, plastering her long auburn hair flat to her scalp.

She stood frozen, her wide unblinking eyes keenly searching the thick tree line for anything that would reveal the next attack. Around her lay the three misshapen forms of the ogres. The huge, lumbering beasts had crashed from the forest, faces full of rage in their blood frenzy, hoping for an easy meal. But Keria had been ready. She had heard the monsters pounding through the undergrowth long before they could even be seen, but with her years of training and experience, even outnumber three to one, she knew the odds were still stacked well in her favour.

Still she listened for the next attack.

But none came. All she heard was her thudding heart, quick breath and the constant patter of the rain on the forest canopy. She tensed as one of the Ogres shuddered, letting out a gurgling sigh, the creature's broad chest falling with it's last breath. Keria stepped away from the hulking bodies, all the while squinting into the muted evening light, searching for any movement, listening for any noise that might give away an enemies position. But the forest was quiet.

She allowed herself to relax, and pain hit her instantly. In shock and confusion she looked down at her arm. A blow from an ogre's club had buckled the light, studded shield, obviously breaking her forearm. But the combination of adrenaline and her Rune magic had numbed the pain, masking the injury to the warrior, dulling her senses just enough to allow her to stay the fight. Now it hurt, it hurt a lot.

She dropped to one knee, head spinning, a cold wave coursing through her body. Keria knew shock would soon set in and if attacked now, absolutely nothing would save her. Slowly the warrior tried to slide the destroyed shield from her twisted arm, gritting her teeth, trying not to scream. She felt her head go light and her vision turn black as the strength suddenly seeped from her body. Then nothing else.

-o-

When Keria woke, the rain had stopped and the sun glimmered through the whispering forest canopy. A songbird whistled its lonely call somewhere above as she propped herself up on her elbow, leather armour creaking, stiffened with the water of the previous night's rain. Her shield had been removed, cut away at the bindings, her sword and gauntlet laid neatly by her side. Keria looked down at her shattered arm but found, no broken bone or torn skin, there was nothing more than some dark, tender bruising; a couple of days and there would be no sign there had ever been an injury. To her side, wrapped in a cloak, lay Milly. The young girl was curled in a tight ball snoring. Keria leaned forward and kissed her daughter.

"Thank you little one," she said, stiffly getting to her feet.

She stretched, working out the knots from a night of lying on the cold, hard ground and the exertion of the fight. The ogres still lay where they had fallen, entrails sprayed across the forest floor. A swarm of flies busied themselves around the corpses, drawn by the acrid smell of the creatures that filled the air. Keria though, was unsure whether it came from their bodies or the copious smatterings on her armour, probably a bit of both.

Picking up the shield, she inspected the buckled armour, checking to see if it could be salvaged. But the blow had made it useless, it runes split, the infused magic gone. After a quick rummage in the undergrowth she found her pack where it had been thrown in the frenzy of the fight. Taking out the water pouch she pouring some of the cool liquid over her face, doing her best to clean the dry, crusty gore from her pale skin; it was hardly worth the effort. She swung the pack over her shoulder and bent down, scooping up Milly, for once happy her daughter was small for her age. Milly, she knew, would be asleep for hours yet and this would give her more than enough time to get her home into her own bed.