Resist

43

Tucker’s POV

I had placed Jack a good ten meters from the door and just returned, moving hurriedly and pulling my ax from my belt, when the keys jingled on the other side and the door began to open. Thankfully, it opened out and did not cut off Leighton and Stanley from the action, who were stationed on the opposite side of the door from Bower and I. 

The first solider walked in, looking left, the direction we had found Jack in, and saw me out of the corner of his eye. Before he could do more than widen his eyes, I swung my ax out, making contact with his chest before he’d even lifted his weapon. His breath whooshed from his lungs, his armor protecting him from the sting of the blade but not the impact; he would have the nastiest of bruises later, should he survive this encounter. Before he recovered, Stanley moved behind him, wrapping one arm around his neck and leaving just enough room under the soldier’s chin to fit his blade and slit his throat. Stanley let go and the body fell. I glanced a look at my comrade’s face and saw the revulsion there at what he had just done but I did not have to time to console him or even give him another thought for more Xave were coming in the door. 

Bower had killed one more already, shooting a bolt from his crossbow at such a short distance that it had torn straight through the man’s neck. Now he was being pushed backward by a soldier with a small mace, the simple knife he kept with him for hand-to-hand combat not holding up against the heavy blows. Before I could jump to his aid however, another soldier appeared in front of me, a short, thick broadsword in his hands. Just from the way he held it, I knew he was lethal and this was not going to be easy.

His first move was to thrust the sword directly at my stomach. I dodged, bringing my ax around to attack his right side. He parried the blow but seemed to have misjudged my speed, not having enough time to flip his blade and block with the flat of it. Instead, he took the hit on the edge of the blade, a large dent appearing in the metal from the weight of my weapon and the strength of my attack. 

The soldier seemed to reassess me quickly, whipping his talent out of his pocket and besieging me with a series of attacks in succession. I blocked the blows left and right, the humidity of the waterlogged dungeon and the strain breaking a sweat across my body. My concentration was mandatory to avoid harm, his sword moving so quickly through the air it was causing a slight singing noise. I was incredibly glad to have a double-headed ax as I made the same mistake he had earlier, blocking with the sharpened edge and ruining it, but I still had another undamaged blade to use. 

A gasp of pain sounded beside me suddenly, distracting me as my brain switched tracks from fighting to worry for my friends. The slight lapse in attention was all the Xave soldier needed, just a moment, and he broke through my defense, delivering a cut from the left side of my chest to mid-abdomen. The pain laced through me, not the worst I’d ever experienced but still extremely undesirable. I took a step back, losing my balance as my foot slipped on the moist floor and gave him another opening, with which he slashed at my leg, cutting a similar but deeper line across my thigh. 

My teeth gritted as the muscle of my leg shook, the injury not allowing it to bear my full weight anymore. Shifting to the other leg, and off setting my fighting stance slightly, I rallied and swung my ax at him, sending a jolt up his arm as he blocked the blow. I could see him twitching his shoulder, trying to return it’s former splendor after the rigor my blow had given it, and used this to my advantage. Stepping with the better leg, I attacked that side, forcing him to rely almost solely on the strength from the jolted shoulder to block the blow.

He couldn’t. I swatted down his sword like a pesky cobweb in my path and my ax crashed into his body, a crunch following telling me I had broken at least one rib, perhaps more. He gasped from the pain but the sharp intake of breath hurt him even more and he doubled over, grasping his side. With all his defenses down and his head bent forwards, he was baring me the back of his neck, the easiest kill I had perhaps ever made. With another step, this one a limp due to using my hurt leg, I dispatched him with a clinical cut of my ax.