Thornblade Chronicles - Volume 1

Chapter 4

A blurry mess of color filled Eli's vision, many of which were purple and red. The colors moved so quickly that he couldn't quite grasp what was happening around him. While he couldn't figure out who was present, the item in his hand had an identical texture to the sword he carried at the inn. Looking down revealed his sword as the only clear detail in view—it was dripping in blood. The screams and chants of people surrounding him showed Eli that this was the fight of his life. Looking around, however, the swordsman failed to identify what side he was on. The guild's explanation echoed through his mind as he tried to understand his current situation.

Someone in purple knocked Eli to the ground, clearly posing a threat to his survival. Eli sprung up and frantically slashed his sword in a desperate attempt to survive. Eli did not have the luxury of mourning those he struck down—he knew he would have to kill to survive. No longer burdened by the thought of killing, the swordsman charged at those in the same color as his attacker: purple.

Eli noticed the soldiers in purple were significantly weaker than him. The fact they also did not any enchantments worried Eli, as he began to wonder what side he was on. Was this a battle with the Mienards? Or against them? Or was this an unrelated battle? He worried he was killing civilians who had never held a sword before in their lives. Some of the swordsmen were capable of keeping up with his speed, though perhaps it was the fact he fought multiple people at once; a five-on-one would favor the five, he believed.

In a moment of relaxation, the swordsman looked to those whose colors were not purple. Unfortunately, Eli had just as much luck identifying them; they were unskilled, and none of their weapons glowed. Eli tried to open his mouth to say something but could not. The only consistent color he could see was red: both sides dealt with heavy losses. He sighed, unable to determine his teammates, and turned back to fighting the purple menaces.

A group of four soldiers charged at Eli together, hacking their swords chaotically. Eli's glance frantically shifted between them, trying to plot a course of action to take them down. As they approached him and time ran out, he looked at his sword and drew a glyph on it. The shape was of the number three with sharp turns instead of curves. The blade lit up a vibrant green as Eli swung his sword with a wide arc. A projectile formed in the air where the edge had been. After jabbing at it, it fired in the attackers' direction, growing as it traveled. On impact, the burst threw the men into a nearby wall, and the recoil forced Eli to the ground. He passed out as his head hit the ground.

*                              *                              *

Eli sat up as he jolted awake. His breath was rapid, and his heart raced. He patted every part of his body, checking for any bruises or cuts frim from the fight in which he had just taken part. When he confirmed it was not real, he focused on slowing his breathing. He laid back down and closed his eyes, processing what he had just seen. He rolled around in bed, disoriented by the dream that felt so real. The purple he saw reminded him of the guards he'd condemned the previous day. Eli's eyes shot open as he stood up and quickly paced the room.

"I fought them," he whispered. "I fought alongside The Dark Lord. That is the only explanation," he worried, his strides increasing in speed. "I helped kill civilians here. The survivors have every right to fear me... I should escape before they recognize me," Eli quickly put on his armor and latched his sheathed sword to his armor. Before he could exit the room, somebody knocked on the door. Eli placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Surely, somebody recognized him and came to kill him for all the damage he caused. The swordsman opened his mouth to ask who it was but stopped himself. If someone would be a threat, he did not want to take the chance of being backed into the corner.